In a sunny morning I was asked by my mother to buy her a box of chalk. I gladly oblige and brought it to the school. It was hot and I could feel that my skin is burning however, it doesn’t stop me. I merrily continued my journey to the school.
The school was my alma mater and it has been a long time since I last visited it. To me, it seems that there are a lot of changes. I could say that it is a bit different from before. The green grasses that covered the ground is now gone. The teacher I knew is no longer there. Despite of the changes happen to my alma mater, however, does not changed my feeling of being at home.
I may feel a bit sad because of the changes. However, I entered the school with a smile on my face. I took my time as I approach my mother. She was a teacher, a guidance counselor. However, because of lack of teacher, my mother took the responsibility in teaching grade 1 students temporarily.
She was teaching her students how to write when I arrived in her room. I unintentionally drove their concentration away as the students saw me. They become curious of whom I was and I didn’t like it. I hate creating a scene as if I am an important person stealing everyone’s attention. I sighed with relief when they continued to what they were doing after my mother introduced me.
I wasn’t planning on staying but my mother asked me if I could stay a bit and look after them because there are things she ought to do. I agreed when she said that she can’t bear leave the children without someone to look after them for the reason that something might happen, like accident. I thought just look after them is fine with me however I am nervous because I am not used to it. It’s scary you know. All of them are kids and I am not fond of them. They are too naughty. Well, naughty kids scare me. I don’t think I can handle them. I am nervous that if I encounter one that I may not be able to hold my patience.
Naughty kids drive me crazy. I keep on praying that there aren’t any of them. But in contrast, almost half of the students are starting to create noise as soon as my mother was gone. Oh my God! This is it. It is starting. Is this a trial for me? I told my self to calm down. I closed my eyes and breathe. Whoo! I can do it! At first, I told them to keep quiet and continue their work but God knows it didn’t work. It seems that they’re listening to me. So I stand up started to walk around and checked on how they are doing. Gosh! The noisy ones are those who haven’t written a single word to their paper, even a name. I’m starting to lose patience but I tried to calm down. I just told them, “Sit down and start writing.”
The time is stretching too long. My mother surely took her time. I can’t take it any longer. There are kids that keep on asking questions. What is this and what is that. There are even kids that don’t know how to write their own name. Of course, as the person in charge I taught them how to write, patiently. This is ridiculous. Some of them write letters mirrored, inverted. So, I have to show them how to write them correctly. Sigh. I now wonder if I am like them when I was there age. I think a bit different. I already knew how to write my name when I entered grade 1. Since my mother is a teacher she taught me how to write and read. I guess I am bit lucky compared to them.
Sigh. I only stayed their after a few hours. To me, it seems like forever. Thank God I decided to never become a teacher. With a temper of mine I guess I’d argue with kids. A person with short patience like mine can’t take teaching naughty kids.
The whole time I was with the kids I realized some things. I asked my self if deciding not to become a teacher a good choice? For me, yes. It’s a tough job. Even though I already knew that before, seeing my mother stay late at night making teaching devices and lesson plan is already tiring. Now, I already know that it is only fifty percent of the job. The battle is tougher in the classroom.
Being a teaching maybe a tough and tiring job however, the satisfaction a teacher gets when he/she sees that the students are learning is very rewarding just knowing that a child who can’t write its name is now confident enough to write it. The happiness I could see in my mother’s eyes and the happiness I could hear as she talks about her students as they improve day by day. Knowing that, I could that youth are the hope of our nation but the hope starts in the classroom.
Seeing her students succeed in their career, the teacher could only utter a prayer of thanks to God. The happiness a teacher could get is indescribable. They are like parents, happy for their children, their students.
