On Becoming a Teacher
My dream struck me and shriveled up my expectation. I joined University of Bahrain in hopes that I would one day become a teacher and make a change. Hell, that I would plant new ideals and revolutionary thinking into the minds of students. I was taught by the best and brought up well. All has gone in vain. I have found out that I am not the one making a change, but the one being changed. It’s a change that would kill you slowly. A change that sucks out the life of your entire mental and physical state. I believed none of what I heard from old teachers that, “Oh, don’t be a teacher, it’s a job worse than prostitution.” Or, “No, No, this is outrageous, have you lost your mind?” I thought they were exaggerating, but in fact they were telling the truth.
In the first day, I was a little nervous, but not the extent of being unable to perform as I had two years experience working in private institutional facilities. I was so excited beyond belief because finally the dream has come true. In the end, it took only one class to shatter all. The students were unbelievably weak, and in need of special treatment. What gripped my attention was the fact that they were aware of their own weakness, their conscious behavior towards their failure, yet ignoring proper education, and ignoring the teachers’ presence by either sleeping or talking during class even when asked to be quiet.
Hope is lost even amongst teachers; that is, schools are like a smaller version of a large government. You have the principal acting as a king, teachers working as ministers and others as slaves. Students are the people. There are the rich and the poor. Not to forget the intelligent agents who spread rumors or catch ones and immediately reporting in. The stars outcry, but not here. Hope is lost.
A very important question I should ask, “Is it important what you wear as long as you deliver knowledge perfectly and as long as it’s not ‘too’ wary?” My answer –which might differ from yours – is no. I used and am still used to wearing casual clothes as I think they make me look more handsome and more confident as opposed to formal clothing which kind of makes me feel uneasy and most importantly, changed. I got a word from one of the teachers that I might get transferred to another school because I haven’t been following the principal orders. ‘Orders.’ As funny as it might sound, yes, it is true, it’s ‘orders.’ The system is all about what you look accordingly, not about what you deliver. And even if you deliver, they tell you didn’t deliver. It’s a mess in here. I don’t belong here. If only I lived alone, I would certainly have retired already. Although I don’t say it, but it’s my mother who keeps me on track, otherwise I would gladly sit, drink and enjoy time and give the principal the middle finger along with any of the teachers I know. Let me know your thoughts about this matter.
- CPS details staff cuts from closing of schools (wgnradio.com)
- Devil’s Advocate (alexsmithwrites.wordpress.com)
- A teacher (preciouscamilleg.wordpress.com)