Perceptions
GOING THE MILE
A Teacher's Homage
*Inspired by and dedicated to my students
“It's been three years, you know?”
“Seriously? No it can't be.”
“Look around you. Do the math. One year, three weeks and counting...”
The dialogue in my mind faded as I stopped paying attention to it. I knew too well how the conversation would end. I have already heard it a countless number of times, counting down days and months and then dissipating into a vague silence which left me feeling restless. But this time I would not let that happen. A sudden surge of determination built up inside me and I knew that this time it was different. Without even weighing the pros and cons, I knew for a fact that I was done with teaching, at least for a while. I didn't even realize how heavy this had been lying on my heart and soul. How long had I been feeling like this? Is it possible that I was feeling suffocated for months or even years, but I never realized it? It didn't matter. I had reached a junction and it was time to pause and reassess the alternatives. I knew that it was the right choice. There was no room for “maybe” or “what if”. But three years...wow...what did I love so much about this job that the years passed by so quickly? If I look back at this journey right now, what would it reveal?
When I started teaching three years back, I didn't really sign up for the job. It kind of just landed on me, so to speak. At that time I thought it would be temporary, for a few semesters at most. Real life was out there, waiting to happen. This was simply a small break, a pleasant detour perhaps. A transition in any case, which was what I needed for some breathing space. At that point I had no idea that I would love teaching so much. I'm not sure if job skills can be hereditary, but mine sat so well with me that you could almost say it's genetic (my father also being a teacher all his life). For me to become a teacher was always my father's dream, not mine. I didn't see any harm in trying it out for a bit. But now I understand why he wanted this for me, I understand all that this profession has to offer, that far outweighs the modest monthly checks.
For me, one of the rewarding things about teaching is simply walking into a classroom and greeting all the happy faces. Sometimes I could match all 35 names to their faces, and sometimes I remembered none. But it didn't matter, because to me they were all like little chipmunks, fidgeting with restrained energy and waiting for the day's lessons. Usually during the first few weeks of the semester, every time I paused talking to write something on the board, the class would erupt into frantic murmurs and excited whispers, while they did all their socializing and catching up. But over the course of the semester, this would grow fainter and fainter. Even when I paused, the thoughts stayed with them. They would eventually stop resisting and accept that they were being taught something as acrid and acerbic as applied linear algebra. The more I interacted with them, the calmer they became, as if they were absorbing my energy and making it their own. Then there would be absolute silence and stillness, and those moments felt like collective accomplishments towards learning.
Over the course of three years, teaching has transformed me from a subdued person to the likes of a highly animated cartoon character. Every lecture felt like a grand performance, a theatrical experience, if you will. In those moments, nothing else mattered. All the varied problems of daily life would suddenly lift off me as I started speaking. I felt like I was on stage, telling a story so intently that subconsciously I would be acting it out with my hands. I didn't just tell the story, I lived it. My students were my audience and I wanted to take them on the journey with me. I wasn't really trying to teach them anything. I wanted them to experience what the concepts meant. I wanted them to indulge in that understanding. And when the time was up, the curtains didn't close and my audience didn't applaud, but they always stayed motionless for a few moments and their eyes sparkled as if seeing the world in a different light. I would walk out with a confident stride, feeling pleased from head to foot.
There were of course many challenges and hurdles to overcome in the line of duty. There were the rebels without cause, venting off truncated frustrations of their adolescence. There were the brilliant students who cringed with boredom as I relentlessly explained the obvious to their not-so-math-savvy classmates. There were the students in their mid and late twenties who had often been incarcerated for their political associations. There were students who felt they knew exactly how I should be doing my job to serve them better, and vehemently made it a point to tell me so. But in spite of mutual differences and disagreements, we would find ways to coexist and respect each other. Every time I saw this transition in attitude, from hostility to acceptance, it also shifted my perception of others.
Since I'm taking inventory of all the triumphs over the years, I should also acknowledge the situations where I didn't quite measure up. The case of one particular student with cognitive impairment is worth mentioning. I didn't realize at first that this student had a learning disability, and thinking that he was being disruptive on purpose, I had often been harsh on him. I thought it was impossible for him to pass the course and I had given up on him from the start. But he taught me what I failed to teach him: that anything is possible through sheer motivation. He told me once that he actually understood my lectures and that I had motivated him, but I did not deserve the accolade. He passed the course on his own merit and I still deeply feel that I owe him an apology.
One could argue that we teach out of the conceited desire to be the smartest person in the room for solid 90 minutes. After all, how often in life do you get to be the one to pose the questions and also be the one with all the answers? But these petit ego boosts are nothing compared to the real joys of teaching. Being acknowledged, heard, understood and accepted - these are the things that we often crave in our daily lives from the people we are closest to. Teaching gives us all these gifts and more as it brings perfect strangers together and within the span of a few months, it fosters a beautifully intricate connection based simply on prolonged exposure. It is a pleasure and a privilege to be able to share our knowledge and zeal for learning with so many young minds. So it is that we commit to it, over and over again.
The writer is a lecturer of Economics at North South University.
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