Dropped

You’d never know how tensed you are until you know how relaxed you can be.

For too many weeks now, I was a string puppet in suspended performance. I hung in mid-air, carrying a smile that wasn’t mine, staring ahead with lifeless eyes, while flailing around in routines that I may or may not recognize. It’s okay, just, haha, hang on – I told myself. I did not object when my puppet masters hoisted me up and made me dance, even when my seams were tearing, and the strings were hurting. After all, my puppet masters treat me well – better than what I could ask for. And they needed me. I think.

But this week, I finally refused to budge. It was that, or risks my threads coming apart and spill yellowing cotton on stage like a low-budget production that could not even afford proper guts. So this weekend, I am finally able to lie in my own corner, lifting my arm for no one, and smiling for no one but myself.

God knows I need this.

I have, save for tendering a formal resignation letter, been relieved of my teaching duties. I don’t feel particularly relieved. I also don’t know what I really feel and think right now, except for “Will they remember me at all?” while watching the kids playing catch. Things have been so hectic this few weeks I really haven’t had time to properly let my leaving sink in yet. But in my heart I know I have to leave, because US is still calling out to me, and I’m not sure if teaching is anymore.

This is not to say that I hate teaching. In fact, refusing to listen to my senses and leaping into a teaching job may be the smartest decision I’ve made. I just don’t know if this is what I want to do, and I think in order to find out, I have to leave the job. I know, this sounds as ludicrous as the notion of having to move to an exotic country in the name of “finding yourself” (I mean, how do you find yourself in a place that previously contained none of said self?). But nevertheless, ludicrous actions are what separates humans from, say, sunflowers.

This teaching experience is… well, I have no words for it. I have learnt infinitely more than I taught, I’m sure. I now believe that you’d never really see something unless you’ve seen it through children’s eyes.

I will miss them. I will miss their chubby cheeks, their laughter, their complaints, their fighting, their smiles, their helplessness, their strength, their honesty, their dishonesty, their individuality. I will miss the darndest things they said. I will definitely miss the darndest things they said about their parents.

Other than an urge to laugh and cry at the same time, I really don’t know what I’m feeling now. I have always referred to them as “my kids”. Perhaps that is my biggest mistake.