Ultimate

I am at a dilemma now. I don't pose pictures of people on my blog, because of the obvious cyber risks. And though technically the copyright for the pictures I take belong to me, when you take a picture with other people then that snapshot is not valuable only to the photographer, isn't it? So, before I reveal the faces of 55 people on my blog, I feel obliged to seek their permission first.

Yep, 55 people...due to unforeseen circumstances and an emergency that cropped up at the last minute, I was unable to do my goodbye routine with L3, which means up till now I still don't have a photograph of them. All I have is that kooky photolist that they give to all the teacher to help them recognise their students. And that also means that, one day after my official last day, I still find myself elbow-deep in marking (this time round, marking expository essays. 16 more to go!). And also, I haven't really moved out of the cubicle yet. All my junk and scraps are still there, and if the real teacher were to come back on Monday, I think she will be rather displeased. And I'm still holding on to my security pass, and HCI is still holding on to my last paycheck. So as you can see, I'm really not ready to go yet.

Have written to URA to beg them to delay the internship for one more day, so that I can go back to school on Monday to properly hand over all the stuff. I would rather not leave things in a mess. Loose ends bug me. And while this 16-week story has its cliffhangers, it shouldn't have loose ends; whatever disjoints that exist should be meaningful rather than arbitrary. So, so much for my "last day". So much for making a clean getaway. I try to wrap things up, and I find all these fragments and unfinished business dogging my every footstep.

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How did it come to this? How did I find myself teaching four great classes (2F, L, N and L3) in my old school? Just like many of the twists in my recent past, it has a lot to do with luck. An unlikely phone call from my old Chinese teacher (who has since moved on to much bigger things) in between Boxing Day and New Year's last year led to a proposal from my old Math teacher (who has also moved on to bigger things). However, at that point in time I was poised to spend the first two weeks of term time in Borneo, so I turned it down. Then, while I was in Kota Kinabalu wandering up the hill behind the town centre, I got a message from Herbert, who had filled the slot that had been offered to me, asking me to replace him once I came back so that he could teach Chemistry instead. So, in the third week of the first term, I found myself introducing myself to my first three classes.

It could easily have turned out otherwise. If URA had not agreed to delay the internship even further till the middle of May, I would already be there helping out with some plan or another. If I had actually followed through with my original intention of becoming a Duck Tours guide, then going back to school to teach would also have been unattractive. But, as it turned out, I spent the first part of 2008 in Borneo, and came back with a lot of time in my hands. Something in the pattern of the world shifted, and things fell in place; I had the time, and they had the need. And so, I found myself on the cusp of something great.

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Being in a family of educationalists and hanging out with a circle of friends who have also progressively entered the relief teacher line have given rise to situations where we discuss work life ad nauseum, everything from national policy down to the average marks of individual students (yes, teaching is all-absorbing, totalising and obsessive - students should be warned about this). And lately, the topic has revolved around our respective last lessons and last days, and how we made our respective departures.

I will not list down what I received from my students, from my classes. That would be inexcusably arrogant, I think, and anyway, it is appropriate that this should remain between me and my kids. But I have never seen a farewell of that magnitude before! Even as it was happening, in both the outside world and in school, I had the unshakeable feeling of it being ridiculously conspicuous. There was also what my old teacher used to call a sense of being fraudulent, as if you were receiving some honour that was not meant for you. Teachers are prone to moments of egotism in comparing what they can get their kids to do for them; and what my kids did for me does, I think, take the cake.

I cannot deny that it was deeply satisfying, to receive clear and unequivocal confirmation that my time has made a difference to these people. It was a vindication, a reaffirmation that I had not wasted all their time after all, that they had gained at least something from my time, just as I had gained immeasurably from their time. But it was also deeply humbling; the kind of enthusiasm that they demonstrated in class and on my last day alike bears testament to so much potential waiting to be tapped and catalysed by guidance into real works of art; and, after all, how many people can unleash that? Isn't it saddening that this kind of energy doesn't get tapped all the time, in every class, in every interaction? What they gave me was heartening in itself, but it was also bittersweet in that it reveals what they had not given others. Part of the brilliance of tapped potential is because so much other potential is wasted.

But I will not psychoanalyse their response to death. It is already enough of a privilege and an honour to receive such a sendoff; there is no need to tear it apart in search for a deeper meaning to it. As YS said before, it doesn't do to be so concerned with appreciating every detail of it that you miss the beauty of the pattern and the wider perspective.

*

Today, went back to school to finish inputting the marks for this term. And I am gripped once again by the great insecurity of teachers, I think; the notion that one person has the authority to judge and grade so many other people. I don't know what kind of experience and wisdom you need to be able to legitimately rank people based on their skills, effectiveness and character, but I can safely say that I don't yet possess them. All I am trying to do is to treat everyone as fairly as possible, from my own limited vantage point, and to do what (I think) is right for them. The only thing that guides my grading is, as my old History teacher said, to do right by my kids. There is nothing else fancy to it. So every mark and remark entered is laced with equal parts doubt, that I may be misjudging them and misrepresenting their abilities, and regret, that I have to subject them to such a process at all.

But I can at least say that I have tried my best. Every mark and remark is as carefully considered as I can make it. Anything else that is found wanting is due to my lack of experience and my inappropriate perspective, and I have to apologise for that, because there is nothing I can do about it.

But, after spending most of the afternoon in school, went to St. Joseph's for mass and then joined my family for Mothers' Day dinner at a brilliant Japanese restaurant. Worked very hard to lose myself in, variously, the serene and splendid raiment of the church on this Pentecost Sunday, the surging crowds along Orchard Road, the more chic and laid-back atmosphere at Robertson Quay, and the incredible food and matching conversation at the dinner table. And for a while, the anxiety and the pressing need to finish my work melted away like the smooth monkfish liver in my mouth. No matter what, after all, it is important to keep things in their proper perspective. Even teaching cannot be allowed to consume every one of my faculties and my every last resource.

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Anyway, as you can see, I have released my journal address to my classes, to better keep in touch with them. They have liberally helped themselves to the shoutbox. And, I guess, there goes my old readership! But don't be too afraid of their antics; they wouldn't do it in real life. And anyway, even if some of them did try to do the standing-on-the-table gag in class, I wouldn't allow it. It's an unhealthy perspective to entertain, both in them and in myself!

So, to my kids: I am glad to have been of service. But always be careful to maintain things in their proper perspective. And to my old readers (whoever and wherever you are!), be nice to my kids! It means a lot to me to have them here.