My assignment

My brother had to go to school today, so as usual, I woke up at 5.30am to pack him his lunch to bring to school. Poor guy. He's to churn out all these result slips in school today. Hope he doesn't work too late. He hasn't been feeling too well lately. Overworked I guess.

So here I am typing out my thoughts again after a hearty breakfast and reading the newspapers. I hugged my Education Psychology book to sleep last night after my blog entry. Somehow, it felt more comfortable in my arms than in front of my half-opened eyes. Think I'd better start reading the appropriate chapters or I'd never get down to writing my assignment - it's supposed to be an analysis of a teenager I interviewed during my school experience.

Musfirah is a Secondary 2 girl. She's at the lower end of the express class. Her parents divorced when she was in K2. It saddens me to hear that the divorce had traumatised her so much, that all she can remember is the day her dad walked out of the house. I asked her if she had any happy memories. She couldn't recall any. She just remembers all the sad things in her life. She said it's all she remembers. After much probing did she then realise that she was happy when she topped her primary school in Mother Tongue for the PSLE exams. I was wondering how she could ever forget such a significant achievement. Was it perhaps because no one significant in her life celebrated that achievement with her?

When she was young, she played truant, ran away from home, shoplifted and just wasn't interested in studies. I guess she felt lost. She didn't know what to do, who to turn to. It was perhaps her cry for help, her cry for attention. Musfirah has stopped all these activities, thankfully. Now, she hopes that she can pass her exams, and that one day, she'll have a complete family - warm food when she gets back to school, someone to love her and start a family with her. She smiles when she tells me she wants 4 kids - two boys, two girls. She said she'll love them all equally. Things she yearns for; things she doesn't have now. Her mum dotes on her younger sister. She feels neglected sometimes. She wonders if it's because she resembles her dad.

My heart felt so much for her when I talked to her. I was thankful I got her a little teddy bear and a card of encouragement as a gesture of appreciation for staying back after school to talk to me (for this assignment). Her eyes welled up with tears when she asked, "For me?" I nodded. I held back my tears. I held her hand, squeezed it slightly and told her to take care, and if she ever needed someone to talk to, she can send me an email. She smiled and asked if I would be coming back to the school to teach. I said I didn't know. It was up to MOE.

I walked away with mixed feelings. Could I have reached out more? I wished I could help her, talk to her more. I wonder how she's doing now. But there was also a warm feeling in my heart. It felt good that I had made a difference in someone's life, that I had touched her, and made her feel loved in some way. I wished I could do more, but I had to leave. I guess I am looking forward to more of such experiences when I eventually teach in schools. It's indeed fulfilling to be able to touch someone in some simple way - by just listening, by just giving words of advice. Sometimes, I guess we have to reflect and ask how much of ourselves do we actually extend to others, just to touch them in the most simple way?

This also made me think how fortunate I am, to have a family that supports me, and love me for who I am. It may not be complete, but I know I am loved by each and every one of them, wherever they are. I hope Dad is doing fine...

I'd better get on with my assignment, but I'll leave you with a thought - "The best minute you spend is the one you invest in someone else." How many "best minutes" do we have?