Saturday, September 09, 2006
Friday, September 01, 2006
Indulge Me
Yesterday, for the very first time in my life, I celebrated Teachers' Day as a teacher. To be honest, I wasn't quite prepared for all that attention I was to receive, and nearing the end of the school celebrations when the girls all shouted "Happy Teachers' Day!", tears actually welled up in my eyes.
Call me a sentimental fool, but I am truly touched.
It all started early in the day, when assembly had bared started. I saw several students sneak up one by one to their respective teachers to give them their T-Day gifts, and felt mildly envious. As a new teacher, I was rather anxious about the whole gift-receiving affair. Like any other teacher in the world, we do really mean it when we say, "the best present you can give me is to be a good student." However, blame it on our less-then-perfect human nature to worry when we do not receive as much attention as the teacher-next-door on this special day. Do my students hate me? Do they respect me? Am I even considered a teacher in their eyes?
So imagine the insecurity in me when I see the teacher seated next to me receiving present after present. I had none yet.
It was only after receiving the first gift (regrettably, I have failed to remember which student it was from) that I felt marginally relieved. Soon, the gifts started to trickle, and then pour in. Before I knew it, the two empty seats beside mine were bursting with flowers, cards and colorful packages. It was almost as if Christmas had arrived early. Suddenly, I felt quite overwhelmed, and slightly embarrassed to be showered with that much attention.
With the morning assembly and the ACES Day (it was also the national-wide All Children Exercising Simultaneously Day) event well over, I staggered into the staff room, half-exhausted, half-invigorated by my students' display of affection. As I stumped into my seat, looking at the messy heaps of gifts on my desk, it struck me. I AM a TEACHER.
As the day progressed, more gifts poured in, and at last count, a fellow teacher in the afternoon session informed me that there are more on my desk, apparently from students after I had left for the day.
That night, while I sat in my living room reading each card, tearing up gift wrappers and unveiling the content of the packages, the "I AM a TEACHER" thought became stronger and stronger, and never before had I felt more pride, responsibility and love for my students.
Try as I might to remember the faces of students who came up to me with their gifts and well-wishes, everything was a blur and I could hardly match a single gift with a face. Never mind, I appreciate every single thought. Gifts are immaterial.
To the students who saved each penny to buy a gift, thoughtfully wrote each word in your card and painsakingly wrapped each present, teacher wants to say a big "Thank you!" to you. I love you all.
To the students who didn't get me any, I still say, the best present you can give is to be a good student. Honestly. And I love you too.
Call me a sentimental fool, but I am truly touched.
It all started early in the day, when assembly had bared started. I saw several students sneak up one by one to their respective teachers to give them their T-Day gifts, and felt mildly envious. As a new teacher, I was rather anxious about the whole gift-receiving affair. Like any other teacher in the world, we do really mean it when we say, "the best present you can give me is to be a good student." However, blame it on our less-then-perfect human nature to worry when we do not receive as much attention as the teacher-next-door on this special day. Do my students hate me? Do they respect me? Am I even considered a teacher in their eyes?
So imagine the insecurity in me when I see the teacher seated next to me receiving present after present. I had none yet.
It was only after receiving the first gift (regrettably, I have failed to remember which student it was from) that I felt marginally relieved. Soon, the gifts started to trickle, and then pour in. Before I knew it, the two empty seats beside mine were bursting with flowers, cards and colorful packages. It was almost as if Christmas had arrived early. Suddenly, I felt quite overwhelmed, and slightly embarrassed to be showered with that much attention.
With the morning assembly and the ACES Day (it was also the national-wide All Children Exercising Simultaneously Day) event well over, I staggered into the staff room, half-exhausted, half-invigorated by my students' display of affection. As I stumped into my seat, looking at the messy heaps of gifts on my desk, it struck me. I AM a TEACHER.
As the day progressed, more gifts poured in, and at last count, a fellow teacher in the afternoon session informed me that there are more on my desk, apparently from students after I had left for the day.
That night, while I sat in my living room reading each card, tearing up gift wrappers and unveiling the content of the packages, the "I AM a TEACHER" thought became stronger and stronger, and never before had I felt more pride, responsibility and love for my students.
Try as I might to remember the faces of students who came up to me with their gifts and well-wishes, everything was a blur and I could hardly match a single gift with a face. Never mind, I appreciate every single thought. Gifts are immaterial.
To the students who saved each penny to buy a gift, thoughtfully wrote each word in your card and painsakingly wrapped each present, teacher wants to say a big "Thank you!" to you. I love you all.
To the students who didn't get me any, I still say, the best present you can give is to be a good student. Honestly. And I love you too.
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