The school year is about to end, graduation is just a week away. I have tons of papers to take out as I’m about to check them — one by one by one by one. This is my sophomore year of teaching and like the second album syndrome I don’t think this is my best season.
Though I’ve tried to improve my methods I still feel that I have had a lot of loopholes in my instruction. To be honest I’m usually at my best during the first two months of the semester, but the energy somehow dissipates at the end. That’s the time when I would rush lesson plans, miss printing a couple of handouts, and improvise my way out of a session.
I admit I’m not a good teacher. In fact, I feel that I’m starting to get jaded as I go along. Well, damn it. To say that I’ll be better next school year would be unfair to my current students, but hey, we all improve by admitting that we’ve made mistakes. But still, but still.
I try to veer away from being personal. I know we all have to be strict and professional, but with this cura personalis thing I made it a protocol to talk to my problem students first before I decide to give a failing grade. Of course, they would usually use family matters as an excuse. The question is: how authentic are their problems? How would I know if they’re telling the truth?
I do [try to] understand their ordeals, the world has never been fair to begin with, but somehow it has taken a toll on me. All the negativity that I’ve been absorbing from my pupils. As much as I want to help them, remind them that things will eventually get better, they somehow decide to get stuck to their personal nightmares.
I don’t know. I really don’t know anymore. I’m really tired. Geez.
And there are those who have come to realize the mess they’re in. Even without my help they’ve come to a point where they’ve decided to heal their self-inflicted wounds. They know that life is as good as lasting the day to enjoy the sunset, or the cool night breeze, and hoping to wake up to catch the sunrise as it sweeps the bad dreams away.
They know that they could be better. One struggle at time.
These are the students who know what is at stake, and what the future holds. Sometimes I wish I have more like them, but hey, as I’ve said earlier: life has never been fair to begin with. It makes teaching more meaningful. Every student is a blessing… I think.
For now, I have papers to check and grades to submit.