What Hurts Me Most

When you update your blog too often, people seem to lose interest in checking what youve written new since it happens too often. Unless they are really interested in what you are writing...

This time I am going to write about my life as a UP chem lab instructor.

Teaching is not hard, but I guess it depends on the person. Last sem's end was heartbreaking, no exaggeration. I recall one night last year. It was the last day of classes - October 1, the same date for the third Chem 16 exam. I was lying in bed ready to sleep, listening to the CD some of my students gave me. The ending songs in the CD - Closing Time, Kuwarto, and Paglisan - made me cry.

Some of my colleagues are probably getting a bit exasperated about me when they see me being close to my students too much. I get too attached. And that night, the songs made me realize that I will never see some of my students again. Never see them smile when I encounter them walking in the Chem corridor, laugh at my jokes in class, see their eager faces when I am discussing a particular lesson. Never again will I check their quizzes, following each student's progress. Or simply have all of them - complete - inside the walls of our very old laboratory home where we met 6 hours a week for a whole semester. Never again.

I cried, recalling the happy memories we have shared. How we had so much fun and yet were able to do what we need to do. Never again will I see them do experiments, ask me things about the procedure. All those things. They have been a part of my life for five months, and then suddenly, each goes his or her own way. Leaving me inside our classroom, recalling memories. Looking at the dry sink, the empty tabletops, the spotless blackboard... listening to the quiet of the room. Nobody calling me "Bye, Sir!" or "Hi, Sir!", or simply "Sir!" anymore.

I read the messages I made my former students write me a few hours before we all parted. Saying thank you's, saying good luck's, telling me how they had fun. It has been four months now and still I get this teary-eyed feeling as I am writing this. My work gives me so much pain and yet I will not ask for more.

If I worked in the industry, where salaries are higher, where the equipment is better, will I get the smiles I receive when I see my students? Whenever I walk by the Chem pav or even in the streets of UP, all students would be strangers to me. I would have missed so much. I wouldnt have met such wonderful friends such as Marnie, Zynka, Caps, Lyn, Ate Julie, Adrian, Giselle, Ace, Kristel, Tom, Korinah, and all the 60 others. All of them would have been strangers to me if I did not teach.

Will I have the memories I have with me now? Memories of reportings, accidents in the lab, bloopers in the procedure, sharing stories, all the laughter? No!

I feel grateful that I seem to be following the right path. That at an early age, I feel content and fulfilled about what I am doing. I do not really consider teaching as "work", its my mission. When I discuss topics in front of the class, I dont feel that it is something that I had to do, its something that I want to do. Its just like being with your friends, like Im helping them learn. I enjoy what I am doing.

Teaching is a noble job. We are not merely giving students lectures, we are giving them knowledge they can use for their future careers. And it not only stops in that. As an instructor, I can help make this learning process fun and memorable. Through teaching, I am able to touch their lives. I am able to be a part of their story, even for a few months. In the short time given to us, Ive made some of them laugh, relax, just enjoying being a student of chemistry. Ive made a difference in their lives. Who can ask for more?

I feel weird about myself. I have changed. Before, I usually do not care about other people that much. All I think about is myself. If I were to be made an instructor then, perhaps I would be a business-is-business instructor. Do this, do that, listen to this, no fun, work, work, work! But perhaps, the students themselves changed me.

Ive made made my students write an essay about our class and they always seem to like their classmates. All of my three lower chem classes mentioned that their classmates are fun and easy to hang around with. That, in my opinion, did not happen by chance. I simply let the students be themselves. I foster an atmosphere without tension, so students can feel at ease, and hence learn more not only about the lessons but also about their classmates. I also make it a point to share some of my experiences to my students. It is a sign that I trust them, and that I want to be friends with them. It not only makes it easier for them to interact with me, it makes it easier for me to talk to them and teach them better as well.

Sigh. The end is coming near again. February is almost halfway over. And then March, and then goodbye. Goodbye students all over again. My life goes in circles. Nothing left for me but memories, and most of all the friendship that we have developed through the hours weve spent together. If I feel this now, what would I feel when it is really time for goodbye? Maybe I can handle it better this time. Maybe not. But I dont care if I get hurt even more this time. What matters is that I was able to enjoy being with my students even for the limited time given to us. That I have been friends with them, and perhaps through a bit of my help, I have made them friends with each other.

I am always the fox in the Little Prince. I allow them to tame me and when the time for leaving comes, I get hurt. But the colour of the wheat fields will always stay. Always.

So, students. Of the past and the present. Please do not forget me. I am still remembering. But, I know that when people are apart, they grow apart. And perhaps we will too... But in the myocardial cells of my heart (this sounds so cheesy but it is true) and in the neurons of my brain, you will always have a special place which I will tend as long as I could.

Do you know what you could do to hurt me most? You can make me suffer so much. I am at the mercy of just one word. And what is that?

Forget.

Sticks and stones are hard on bones/ Aimed with angry art/ Words can sting like anything/ But silence breaks the heart