I'm proud to be what I am

Talking about work is excruciatingly difficult because it has the potential to make me either love it or hate it. But most of the time the first (expectedly) outdo the latter. No matter how many times I tried seeking solid reasons as to why I shouldn’t be in this supposedly professional profession, I mellowed down whenever those rascals come to mind. Yes, my students. Just as much as they get on my nerves almost all the time and no matter how they always make me tear up when I’m all alone, they somehow have this power to make me think of them fondly.

Quite unfathomable. But maybe I have a kind heart.

I remember feeling so sad and indisposed during the second week of teaching. I cried waking up to the sound of the morning birds. I cried because they woke me up ; which meant I had to get ready for school – something I didn’t want to do. The journey to school was so melancholic that I tear-up all the way. I remember not wanting to go into my classes because I didn’t think I could do it. I couldn’t face my students and act like nothing was wrong, that I have the bravest heart. I was so emotionally-driven that when reflected upon, I was being ridiculously childish. I remember crying over the phone, spilling everything to Rizal, telling him that I wasn’t fit for this job (which I used to love), that I hate my students for making me feel this way. I was a total wreck. In fact, I had even mentally planned on paving my way out from the system with the help from the ever supportive boyfriend. It was so absurd, I can laugh my heart out just thinking about it right now. My parents? Well, I didn’t think they should know.

Honestly, I kinda knew what was wrong. It was nothing. My emotions were toying with my brain. I got caught and I let my feelings take control, thus the irrational behavior. Somehow, I managed to regain my senses. It took me awhile to get back to reality and that involved a lot of courage and many self-motivations. I wonder whether it was just me or the rest are feeling the same. Turned out, I wasn’t the only one. A few dear friends were in the same boat.

I wonder, can interest and passion grew and then fade? Teaching is something I am quite passionate about and it grew during my practicum. But when the real deal is right in front of my eyes, it’s ironic how things have turned. And I feel guilty for not being defensive about my choice of vocation. Is it the surrounding? Or do my clients play the most part?

But I am still here. And I can confidently say that I am here to stay. I try to open my heart and look at things positively. I say my prayers everytime I enter the school compound and each time I set foot in my classes. I want to be the teacher for these children. I want to teach them no matter how difficult they’re behaving and how affected my life can be with their behaviour. I love my students although they might not care the slightest of all the little things I do.

No matter how exhausted a day at work can be, and how it can drain my spirit, I am here to stay because no other jobs can offer me an absolutely eye-opening life experience where naïve and innocent souls are met every single day.

I love my job and my students because they teach me more than what learning English can give.

I’m proud to be a teacher cum educator.And I'm going to say that to myself every single day.