It's been 23 years since I first stepped into a school as a teacher and I haven't lost the fascinated feeling I get when I'm at work. The feeling of sometimes being awestruck in silence when I watch my students...
To me, each of them are raw works of art... potential masterpieces. They themselves are the artists and they hold their own palettes and brushes. Yes, there are times I feel like screaming in frustration ... or like grabbing one by the shoulders and shaking him or her awake from a dreamfog. A lot of such times... but isn't a masterpiece usually born of frenzied energy and angst?
And now I teach pre university students... it seems like ALL of them are brimming with angst. I used to feel like I was the one holding the brush and that I HAD to do this or do that... but I have come to realise that these masterpieces-in-the-making need to make their own decisions of where the brushstrokes need to go and how much paint to use and when to apply the colours...
It is so hard to watch my students learn about themselves sometimes ... but there is no other way for them to journey towards the critical point of self knowledge... and then off they go to a wonderful new place.
And I can't go with them. I can only watch... and wait for the next batch. But then I know, every new group will have something else for me to observe and learn.
This is why I haven't tired of my work yet.
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