It happened on my third year of teaching. Morning classes had just started and I still felt groggy after spending half the night checking papers.
Students seemed to have suffered a similar fate as the class was unusually quiet when I entered. A couple of girls went back to their seats when they saw me come in. Others woke up those whose heads lay peacefully on their desks, stealing a few minutes of shut-eye before classes began. One student carelessly closed the book she was reading and looked at me with a blank stare. There were hushed voices at the back of the room, laughing momentarily at some shared joke.
With resignation, I greeted the class and began my lesson.Despite my lackluster discussion, a few students raised their hands and answered my questions.Thank God for them, I remember thinking. I would’ve slept on me, if tables were turned. The lesson was boring, the activity didn’t interest my students as I thought it would, and I couldn’t help the fact that my head was swimming in a sea of thoughts totally unrelated to what I was teaching.
Many times I looked at the clock at the back of the room but that too seemed to be having a slow day. So I plodded on. I continued the lesson as I walked up and down the room, between the chairs where my students sat. Despite my lack of energy and the emptiness I felt, I remember asking myself if there was something I could do to avoid making this class a complete waste of my students’ time.
Let it go, just wait for the bell... a voice in my head said nonchalantly.
You’re tired, give yourself a break. It will be better tomorrow... another voice whispered.
Don’t try to be a hero, there’s no way you can save the day... a third added.
But I didn’t have time to choose.
Up to this day, I don’t know what I would have done. All I know is that life sometimes has a way of dealing with the situation in front of us. We are not given the freedom to choose. All we have is an invitation to learn.
But I digress.What happened as I walked that classroom? Two arms hugged me from behind and a tear-stained face hid itself in the folds of my skirt.
I don’t remember much else after that except for the silence in the room and the pair of eyes that looked at me with so much sadness, I felt I almost died.
Call it a cry for help or a sign of concern. Some teachers told me it was just a child looking for attention.While others said it was best to let the school counselor handle it.
They were right. It could have been anything.
But that singular incident taught me something.It showed me what teaching was all about.
And I’d been invited to make it my life.
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Students seemed to have suffered a similar fate as the class was unusually quiet when I entered. A couple of girls went back to their seats when they saw me come in. Others woke up those whose heads lay peacefully on their desks, stealing a few minutes of shut-eye before classes began. One student carelessly closed the book she was reading and looked at me with a blank stare. There were hushed voices at the back of the room, laughing momentarily at some shared joke.
With resignation, I greeted the class and began my lesson.Despite my lackluster discussion, a few students raised their hands and answered my questions.Thank God for them, I remember thinking. I would’ve slept on me, if tables were turned. The lesson was boring, the activity didn’t interest my students as I thought it would, and I couldn’t help the fact that my head was swimming in a sea of thoughts totally unrelated to what I was teaching.
Many times I looked at the clock at the back of the room but that too seemed to be having a slow day. So I plodded on. I continued the lesson as I walked up and down the room, between the chairs where my students sat. Despite my lack of energy and the emptiness I felt, I remember asking myself if there was something I could do to avoid making this class a complete waste of my students’ time.
Let it go, just wait for the bell... a voice in my head said nonchalantly.
You’re tired, give yourself a break. It will be better tomorrow... another voice whispered.
Don’t try to be a hero, there’s no way you can save the day... a third added.
But I didn’t have time to choose.
Up to this day, I don’t know what I would have done. All I know is that life sometimes has a way of dealing with the situation in front of us. We are not given the freedom to choose. All we have is an invitation to learn.
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But I digress.What happened as I walked that classroom? Two arms hugged me from behind and a tear-stained face hid itself in the folds of my skirt.
I don’t remember much else after that except for the silence in the room and the pair of eyes that looked at me with so much sadness, I felt I almost died.
Call it a cry for help or a sign of concern. Some teachers told me it was just a child looking for attention.While others said it was best to let the school counselor handle it.
They were right. It could have been anything.
But that singular incident taught me something.It showed me what teaching was all about.
And I’d been invited to make it my life.
Linked up with Yeah write