Half-time reflection

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.