“So please, guys, do come for class next semester.”
“Aiyah, it's no big deal. Like as if we don’t know how to live, right? No need to go to Lifeskills class la. Anyway, bye ‘cher. See you in January.”
My students left in high spirits, celebrating the end of the semester
and anticipating the coming holidays, thus leaving me all alone in the
cold empty classroom. Their words kept haunting me. No big deal? No big
deal! What did they mean by 'no big deal'? We are supposed to be
inspiring, right? Or at least that is what the advertisements for
teaching positions always depict.
I sat down at the cafe with my brew of the day…the umpteenth brew actually. Where had I gone wrong? Am I not good enough, not influential enough, not charismatic enough? What?
While pondering on this universe-altering question, my mind somehow drifted to a story I had came across a while back through a plethora of chain emails that flooded my inbox.
Mrs Thompson stood in front of her fifth-grade class on the very first day of school in the fall and told the children a lie. Like most teachers, she looked at her pupils and said that she loved them all the same, that she would treat them all alike. That was impossible because there in front of her, slumped in his seat on the third row, was a little boy named Teddy Stoddard.
Mrs Thompson had watched Teddy the year before and noticed he didn't play well with the other children, that his clothes were unkempt and that he constantly needed a bath. Teddy was unpleasant and a sullen little boy and no one else seemed to enjoy him either.
At the school where Mrs Thompson taught, she was required to review each child's records and put Teddy's off until last. When she opened his file, she was in for a surprise. His first-grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is a bright, inquisitive child with a ready laugh." "He does his work neatly and has good manners...he is a joy to be around."
His second-grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is an excellent student well-liked by his classmates, but he is troubled because his mother has a terminal illness and life at home must be a struggle."
His third-grade teacher wrote, "Teddy continues to work hard but his mother's death has been hard on him. He tries to do his best but his father doesn't show much interest and his home life will soon affect him if some steps aren't taken."
Teddy's fourth-grade teacher wrote, "Teddy is withdrawn and doesn't show much interest in school. He doesn't have many friends and sometimes sleeps in class. He is tardy and could become a problem."
By now Mrs Thompson realized the problem and she decided to focus on Teddy Stoddard.
Her children brought her presents, all in beautiful ribbon and bright paper, except for Teddy's, which was clumsily wrapped in the heavy, brown paper of a grocery bag. Mrs Thompson took pains to open it in the middle of the other presents. Some of the children started to laugh when she found a rhinestone bracelet with some of the stones missing, and a bottle that was one-quarter full of cologne. She stifled the children's laughter when she exclaimed how pretty the bracelet was, putting it on, and dabbing some of the perfume behind the other wrist. Teddy Stoddard stayed behind just long enough to say, "Mrs. Thompson, today you smelled just like my mom used to."
After the children left, Mrs Thomson cried for at least an hour. On that very day, she quit teaching reading, writing, and speaking. Instead, she began to teach children.
Jean Thompson paid particular attention to Teddy. As she worked with him, his mind seemed to come alive. The more she encouraged him, the faster he responded. On days where there would be an important test, she would remember that cologne. By the end of the year he had become one of the smartest children in the class.
A year later, Mrs Thomson found a note under her door from Teddy, telling her that of all the teachers he had in elementary school, she was his favourite. Six years went by before she got another note from Teddy. He then wrote that he had finished high school, third in his class, and she was still his favourite teacher of all time.
Four years after that, she got another letter, saying that while things had been tough at times, he'd stayed in school, had stuck with it, and would graduate from college with the highest of honours. He assured Mrs. Thompson she was still his favorite teacher.
Then, four more years passed and yet another letter came. This time, he explained that after he got his bachelor's degree, he decided to go a little further. The letter explained that she was still his favourite teacher but that now his name was a little longer. The letter was signed, Theodore F. Stoddard, M.D.
Stories like these always have a way of putting the right perspectives onto life. I sipped my coffee as I recalled the students who came to me for advice and, for some, validation that everything is going to be alright.
Hafiz, who behind his flamboyant style, had asked if he should strive for what he really wanted out of life and that was not the conventional 5 Cs (condominium, car, cash, credit cards and country clubs).
Then, there was Stanley, who despite having difficulties handling his parents’ expectations, needed a listening ear while he reinforced his belief in gathering knowledge and experiences in business, sales and customer service through direct selling.
What about Ming Sheng, who had a knack for dry humor, had apologised to me for making people laughed during his presentation? Apologised to me? For what? The whole class was entertained beyond words and that made his content interesting and simple enough to comprehend. Apparently, he had been told time and again that his presentation was poor because people "laughed and therefore did not take his presentation seriously". I'm sure Chris Rock, David Letterman and Tina Fey beg to differ.
Not forgetting Naresh, who clearly wanted to work for others rather than starting his own business so that he could have time to pursue his love for classical Indian dance.
That’s just it! The reactions of most students to soft skills/life skills modules or even to me may not have been what I initially hoped for and expected. Maybe I was looking for that jumping-for-joy anticipation every time I walked into class. Maybe I was expecting full attention and diligence during lessons.
The truth is human’s reactions to situations are as varied as the ridges
on our thumbs. Maybe the students are inspired after all but I just
need to get used to reactions that are different from my expectations.
In fact, reactions should not be a big deal. It is what happens after
that and the impact I have made that matter...and even that may not be immediate too.You can never tell what type of impact you may have on others by your actions, and sometimes, the extend of the impact cannot be seen merely by their outward reactions to you. It is most often an inward thing.
