Elegy to the Rabbi
Sunday, October 3, 2004
Sometimes, College is hell. Irritating, mind-numbing, exhausting, disappointing place of anguish and torture. For teachers, that is.
I guess it is partly our fault, the relentlessly cynical audience in the classroom. A lot of us prey on weakness, you see. Give us an excuse to mock, tease, jeer, ridicule, insult, lie or cheat and we'll sure as hell do so. And when all these becomes too much, teachers would eventually end up changing themselves, some for the better, some for the worst. Now, if they didn't make every effort to go for the better, that hell would be partly their fault too.
Some teachers end up thick-skinned, a lot of them do. When the floodgates of disappointment brakes loose, they just swallow everything up, take one big shrug, and continue on with their lives like nothing ever happened. Everyday they quietly take on the beating and everyday their hearts harden. And one day, they'd just give up caring. They become as apathetic as the classes they walk into. For them, teaching ceases to be a vocation and becomes just another way to pay the bills. In the end, they retreat into that awful place of routine, conformity and indifference, of dead dreams and lost hopes. They hide there and rot.
Some end up vengeful. How would you feel when you get your pride deflated and ego hurt? What would you do? You'd get even of course. Make the bastards suffer. They'd be sorry they messed with someone like you. You'd be as obnoxious, as abusive, as cold, as they have been to you. Maybe you'd even take out that red pen and wallop their dreams to kingdom come. You won't care. They had it coming. They'd get what they deserve and you'll feel good giving it to them. So good in fact, that you'd give it to the rest of the sorry lot, each and every one of your students. They're all the same.
Some end up dead. Well in a way, all teachers experience a certain level of death. A part of them is sacrificed to cope up with the demands of the teaching life. It might be a perspective. It might be a principle. It might be pride. After that, most of them would deal with it, rise up to face the music. Some however, stay dead -- dead and disheartened and afraid. Their ideals and potentials as lifeless as their spirits. Most of them pack up and leave the first chance they get, never to return.
Finally, some end up like coffee. If you get a cup of hot water and pour your coffee in it, the coffee would dissolve and change the water. Some teachers, the ones we fondly remember, are like that. After being mocked, ridiculed, insulted and cheated they didn't harden, lash out, or curl up and wither away. No. They looked up, straight back at our eyes with passion and idealism stronger than before. They’d become hell bent on making sure that we do learn what we are supposed to learn, that we do harness our potentials, and that we do fulfill our dreams. They didn't end up wanting to get along or wanting to get revenge. They end up being who they are, teachers, who want nothing more, or less, than to make their students learn. That self-sacrificing zeal would turn apathy to interest, insults to praises, and cynics to admirers. These teachers stared straight back at us, unflinching, and did what they are meant to do. They changed us.
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One of my instructors supposedly wrote a scathing post about his two classes and published it in his Blog. It caused much din among my classmates as well as those in the other class. Most of them were taken aback and some were really offended. The article was given much flak of course. I even heard that people went as far as to give equally scathing comments on said instructors Blog.
The sensational post was deleted eventually. The deletion came with an apology note from my instructor. I thought of not going to class the next day. You don't expect a fine sight when people finally see each other after indulging in insults and derision. It usually ends in sickening hypocrisy, if not more servings of insults and derisions.
But what I really didn't want was to see a young teacher, who was once filled with idealism, now broken and disillusioned with nothing but doubt and disappointment. I didn't want to see someone become frozen and stiff inside. I certainly didn't want to be there when he exacts revenge.
I decided to go to class anyway. We should never loose hope on someone. Maybe he'd get over it. Maybe he'd start truly living up to the challenge of College teaching. Maybe I'd witness the wonderful beginnings of an excellent teacher. It was just blogs and silly words anyway. It couldn't possibly destroy dreams and aspirations. Besides, I already missed too many classes and I'd be in trouble if I miss one more.
I found our classroom empty. For some reason our instructor cancelled our class that day. How did he take it? I'll never really know.
So here's to the young College teacher, in your passing may we all learn.
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originally posted on old blog
