June is almost over, and six months have passed since the
day I stepped into school as a teacher. It’s interesting how one’s perspective
can change in a relatively short time, yet this year has not been ordinary
either, to say the least. Six months ago, I became a teacher because I thought
my personal inclinations, skills set, experiences, passions and concern for my
country were adequate reasons to step into what I knew would be extremely
challenging. Six months on, I am reminded daily that the teacher, in fact, learns
the most in the classroom. I'm still trying to find the best ways to engage with my
students, figure out the best methods to spur their learning and test out new classroom
management techniques. I am consistently humbled by the kids that I teach, and by the other Fellows who work so hard for their students.
In an ever-demanding, exhausting and emotionally draining
profession, it’s easy to resign to the fact that it is all too difficult, and
succumb to the belief that some
students are beyond redemption. Every day, teaching may mean facing angry,
indignant, cynical, apathetic, interruptive and ‘bored-out-of-my-mind’ kids who
want nothing more than to leave school the same way they came in. Every day, we
teach so that they wouldn’t, so that someday, excellence in both their careers
and character would be within reach. And because of this, every day in the last
6 months has presented itself in a myriad of ways: a battle over the hearts and
minds of the students, a battle between my personal comforts and the sheer
inconvenience of teaching difficult students, a battle with the rejection that
comes with standing before a class that would rather sleep than learn a
language that’s foreign to them, a battle of loneliness. Yet, it is only in the
great battles that great victories are won.
Over the last 6 months, I have seen the commotion of a circus
calmed into the quiet of a library, the disruptive shush the others who are interrupting
the lesson, the apathetic raise their hands for the first time to answer a question, my boys cycle through the rain to get to an extra class to learn more English, my girls
read their storybooks aloud while waiting to be taught. It’s during these
unpredictable days and months that I have eavesdropped on students playing self-made English games with each other, witnessed Form 1 boys correcting each other in
English, caught unsuspecting girls reading model English essays on their own
initiative, walked into class to find the students ready and standing with
their books arranged on the table, and laughed at the hilarity of my kids acting
out the random words of an English poem.
Teaching in a high-need environment has been both heartbreaking
and exhilarating at the same time.
This week, having returned all my students’ mid-year exam papers,
we celebrated our success by recognizing the students who improved
significantly. I handed out certificates, made a grand speech about working
hard, and read the names of the students who failed in their previous English exam,
but passed this last exam. The students cheered for their classmates joyfully,
and then one student suggested that we shout our class motto (“Work hard, get
smart!”) together, in true Malaysian-political-rally style. Hope had found its
way back into their hearts! I used the opportunity to address the ones who didn’t
do as well, and encouraged them to work harder. I told them we are going to be
relentless about catching up, and in the process, learn about the stuff beyond
books too. Only God knows what they can achieve with the right backing.
At this half-time point, it isn’t very clear whether my kids
will eventually rise above the education inequity they were born into. But hope
is growing and there’s a greater sense of possibility with these kids. For that
reason, I am glad to be where I am at this moment in time, however long or
short it may be - in the heat of the battle.
