The classroom is a stage...

Today, my co-teacher called me in the morning to tell me that I had to handle my Sec 3 class alone - again. It didn't help that we hadn't quite discussed what we'd be teaching the class. And so, with a 2 minute brief of what I could do, I gathered some resource materials and came up with a lesson to teach them summary skills. I figured that could keep them occupied for the two periods.

I entered the class feeling feverish. I feel sick on and off these days (I think I'm down with a slight viral fever), and I wondered if it was class related. The more I dreaded teaching the class, the more feverish I'd feel... no? Hmm... Anyway, almost half the class was under suspension or absent, so I was left with 17 students out of 40. Even then, I only managed to get a handful to do the summary the way I wanted them to.

But one thing happened in class that got me thinking about my teaching. One of the boys in class said to me, "Miss Chew, your mood change very fast. Just now you smile at us, now you so fierce." It's true. They were talking when they were supposed to do their work. I showed them my "Lucy Liu" face - minus the whip in hand. :)

Then it reminded me of one of my philosophies about teaching which I've been sharing since my NIE days. I remember telling some of my NIE mates - the classroom is a stage, and we are mere actors. I've extended that analogy to the staffroom being the backstage, and perhaps the staff lounge the green room?

What do I mean by that? I'm not advocating heartless teaching, but a method in which to take care of the emotional state of us teachers - that at the end of the day, we don't get too drained because of the emotions we engage in whilst teaching. Yes, we do get angry, we do get frustrated, we do get affected by what our students say and do. But like any actor, we get out of the role once we leave our "stage". We retreat to the backstage and resume our persona - the real us.

Yes, Uncle Joel. I still remember all about cutting the threads, and am actually teaching my friends to learn to do it too. I think it's a cool way to take care of our emotional well-being. If we don't, we'd get burnt out one day.

At the end of each day, I'm thankful that I can still smile. And as long as the fire of enthusiasm keeps burning, that I feel the need and urge and conviction to guide and motivate the kids I teach, I feel happy - happy that I've chosen to walk this route; happy that it is perhaps an indication from the one above that I'm walking the right way.

Looking back at the Sec 3 class, I feel that I've not put in enough effort to get through to them. I know it'll take lots of patience, lots of time. Perhaps, even tears. I don't know. All around, I hear negativity, and as much as I prefer not to listen to it, I cannot help but succumb to what I hear sometimes, and use it as a reason for the lack of effort put in in guiding these kids. In short, I could be taking the easy way out.

And many a times, I guess most of us are like that. We'd rather take the easy way out because - well, it's easier. It requires less effort. It doesn't require us to leave our comfort zone. After all, why rock the boat when we're comfortable sitting on it, right? But I've learnt that the easy way out isn't always the best way out. If we decide to keep ourselves in our own world, then we'd never see the potential of what the world can offer.

The next time we're challenged to do something out of our comfort zone, why don't we give it a shot?