Alive and Teaching

I used to tell people that if I ever became a teacher, the national mortality rate will go up.

Ye gawds, I was right.

Don’t worry, the kids are fine and alive. I made sure of that before joining the statistics.

Yes, I started my teaching job three days ago at a kids centre – basic job include homework guidance, and teaching some subjects, plus Creative Writing (whee~). The children are in primary school, and everyday they drove me right up the wall and right down again to make sure they stop fighting/arguing/trying to kill each other.

To their credit, they are too adorable.

Honestly, despite my knackered state of being (this explains the lame jokes and silence-inducing stuff I said during yum-cha session just now. Sorry peeps!), teaching at the centre has been quite fun. My bosses are cool, understanding and VERY BIG on creativity, which is great. The kids, well, most of them are friendly, talkative and generally being kiddy. I’m also happy to say I’ve passed the “Teacher Teacher Remember What’s My Name?” test today.

I still have heck lots to learn. My basic strategy now is just turning my voice a few octaves lower and bellow at the naughty ones. I’m sure there are much more new-age, cool techniques out there and I plan to learn some tricks. I really don’t want to be the hated teacher whose car lays in the peril of begrudging kids. Besides, my voice is cracking.

It is heartening to know that people who say “kids nowadays are so different” are wrong. Kids have always been kids; it is just that a different lifestyle is forced upon them now.

Because a kid just whipped out his Motorola Razr, put on the earphones and ran round and round the playground while giggling and going “waaarrraaaaaaaaagghh”.

Because a 6-year-old boy did not know how to use a swing. Yet, he created his own technique – lying stomach first on the swing and twirl round and round with it while going “wheeeee” – a method which later gained quite a large following from the Older Boys.

Because a bunch of boys chased a remote-controlled helicopter around the field and after a few rounds, they huddled together over the battery-dead toy, waiting for it to recharge.

Because the childish taunting, teasing and insulting never stopped.

Because a 12-year-old boy with emotional problems was teaching a younger boy with ADHD how to play badminton.

Because the ADHD boy had no friends; and his father watched him being taunted, laughed at and complained on by the Other Boys.

Because a mother cried hearing about her son misbehaving.

Because a young girl handed me her cell phone number, carefully written on a flowery and cutesy piece of paper.

Because they have endless tuition, extra classes and not enough time to live.

Because a boy showed me a page in his textbook with wide, pleading eyes – it’s about the steps to make a kite. He wanted to make one, but There Is No Time.

Because he eagerly showed me the next page – children flying kites at a vast, open meadow.

Because my heart melted into a puddle of goo at the sight of them. Quite often.


To all parents and educators, thank you for your battles. Thank you for sticking by us even when we were monsters. Teaching children is really a feat for the fittest.

Time will tell if I am counted within the honourable rank of a teacher, or just someone who passed through these children’s lives. Either way, let’s hope this is one great ride.