On teaching and being taught.

Just another typical day at work. 

I'm watching a year seven relief class do maths, while I persevere with my Year 9 reports. I also need to study for Macbeth: I am teaching Shakespeare with my Lit class.

And yet, my mind is wandering. 

The kids are fidgeting; their active bodies can only take the silence and the mundane routine for so long. I want them to stay quiet, and give me my momentary peace, but I sympathise with them. Life is meant to be active, lived: not tied down to a classroom for hours on end.

I never thought I could be a teacher. But here I am. The job of being a teacher is certainly different to being a student. I have never been less bored in my life. 

Sometimes I actually find it incredible how much can be going on in my mind, how much I am able to tolerate on a day to day level, and still experience the rise and fall of normal emotions. All this is going on throughout the drone of the odd 150 students I personally teach, and the close to 1000 people I hurtle my way through in the hallways, every day.

It is almost a miracle that I still feel something. 

I've changed so much over the last decade. It feels like only a moment ago I was an insecure, naive teenager who didn't know a thing about life, how to take care of myself, or how to make accurate decisions.

These days, I am so quick at taking matters into my own hands. Should I attribute my career to the changes within me? Or have I just grown stronger as a person, naturally?

I think my students have taught me a lot.

Over the years, I have had lessons taught that no other situation in life could have taught me.

Situation 1: The bitchy teenage girl.

Girl sits at the back of the class, chewing gum, smoothing back her hair. She is giggling with her girlfriend. They show each other a magazine. Class begins. Girl looks teacher up and down. She then interrupts teacher to announce, "I like your shoes Miss. I think I saw them in Myer."

Don't be fooled. This girl is not trying to be friends. This girl is trying to announce the fact that she is the Queen of this classroom. No teacher is going to take that title away from her. 

Now, in order for me to handle this situation, I learnt quickly not to be too nice to the girl. Be short, sharp, clear with my response. Do not pander to their prettiness. Do not give any allowances. And for god's sake, do not think that she is going to like you, no matter how nice you are. In fact, she will only like you, once you are out of her life. 

So my lesson in this scenario is: Acceptance. Not everyone is going to like you. So deal with it and move on, realising that the motive for their actions is based on simple primal insecurities. 

Situation 2: The class clown, the joker. 

Boy bustles into class with a crowd of boys, grunting obscenities and jostling desks. Boy screams out, "Hey Missss! What up!" Neutral reply from teacher. Boy sits down and asks, "What's going down today?" Teacher replies, "Nothing is going down, Tom. You, however, need to do some work."

This situation is a tedious one, because it is never-ending. The boy will not settle down. He will not be subdued by threats of phone calls home. He will not do his work just because you have yelled at him and told him he is a no-hoper. He will simmer in anger, planning his next move to ruin you.

My lesson in this scenario: Compassion. Always, there is a kind boy inside waiting to be heard and loved. I sit down with the boy. I ask him how his weekend was. I have a joke with him. I talk about the fact that I want him to do well. I remind him that if he does his work now, he is going to have a totally awesome weekend. I praise him for his efforts.

Situation 3: The kids are leaving you.

Teacher is at graduation, waving and tearing up as her favourite kids are leaving. The bonds she has shared with them are absolute. She knows though, that they are not going to visit. She knows that they will not see each other every day any more, leaving a big gap in her heart where she learnt to love them. And now they are leaving her. 

My lesson in this scenario: Love and respect never dies. One day, they will contact you again, and it will be like no time had passed. And always, always there are new students that will touch your heart again.

This job has been an endless rollercoaster which has taught me so much about life and human relationships. It is not just a job. Once you have students, they will affect your life forever. And not only will you teach them, but they will teach you lessons that will last forever.

Teaching has taught me to be a strong person. I can handle almost any situation that comes my way without the need for tears, or a man to save me. 

That is something to be proud of. But in the meantime, it's time to let the kids out for lunch.

On fearing myself: the demon lies within me.

Fear is such a crippling emotion.

It literally causes our bodies to shut down, bit by bit, hounded by illness and paranoia.

I breathe it all out. Forget it. Wash it away.

Hang ups. 

Fear of not being good enough. Fear of making the wrong decision. Fear of life travelling too fast. Fear of failure. Fear of falling behind. Fear of being stuck. Fear of getting hurt. Fear of not taking risks. Fear of losing someone. Fear of not being pretty enough, smart enough.

It’s always about not being enough.

Fear is a constant enemy in my life and I watch it travelling alongside me each day - stabbing me slowly, seductively in the abdomen, willing me to take the pain, to lower myself into the knife. I resist, I resist. Sharp pangs of silence ensue. I am not myself, I am not complete, I am not living the life I am meant to.

This pain is crippling.

And yet it is not just me afflicted by this pain. We live our lives constantly knotted up, wrenching ourselves from one infestation of worries to the next. We all cope with it in different ways. But the truth lies in this: the people who look the most calm, the most at ease, are the ones who have fear gripping them savagely the moment they lose control.

I am one of them.

On metaphors and magic.

Some people don't like the whole metaphor thing. Obscuring reality; making stuff all poetic and flowery. As a writer, I think in metaphors. Sometimes lines just come to me. I can't help it. I wake up during the night with a magical line ringing in my head, and I instinctively reach out to my phone and plug in the line to my notes page.

Sometimes, I look back on my notes and find fragments of lines hanging all over the place, waiting to be cleaned up and posted on a blog. 

Some people try to hide themselves from everyone, including themselves, simply through avoiding the truth. 

Shut. Your. Mouth.

Easy answer. 

I find that the longer I hold onto my words, the more likely they are going to explode in the wrong places. So I have found a way. Through metaphors. Nobody can enter your metaphors fully. They can only interpret them with their own contextual knowledge guiding them. So it's no wonder that my favourite stories I've ever written can only be correctly interpreted by one person: me. It gives me great power to know that I am the only holder of the truth. 

Some people gain power through risk taking, drinking, drugs, sex. I find my power through words. 

It might seem strange, someone like me, talking about secrets and obscurities: power through metaphor and symbolism. But I know the truth. My secrets lie deep inside me. Nobody will get inside me. Nobody will ever know who I truly am.