The Diary Of A Tired Teacher
I have quit more than fifty times from this so-called noble profession, yes fifty times; and am not forty yet. After every two years, I have packed and left my esteemed classroom writhing with pain, regrets, anguish, and agony. Fifty times I have banged those wooden doors and shown the middle finger to the gates of those schools. Fifty times I have attempted it in my senseless head; and fifty times I have unpacked and with a painful smile, settled in again and continued to torture myself.
You see, being a teacher is more than a calling. It’s a retribution that throws human beings to pits of endless marking, billion comments that sometimes don’t even make sense, yelling at students who will never be scared by your roaring voice. It’s a misery that you keep regretting why you volunteered to enter it in the first place.
I have had nightmares from excruciating classes that do not end at 5pm rather they choose to carry on even in my sleep. Why my sleep for god’s sake? Lessons with students with bizarre discipline behavior as if born from planet Jupiter. Misbehaving and caring less about my stature and demeanor. No wonder they say it’s a calling because why else would someone beyond their twenties decide to be a teacher? We have all been students and we know exactly how we have brutalized hard-working teachers who only wanted us to get the best grades so that we get wonderful paying jobs in the future. I am laughing at myself as I jot down the last sentence that you have just read.
I have three alarms that ring in a range of five minutes each. So that once I ignore the first one, I do not ignore the second one and if I ignore the second one; I do not ignore the last one. Waking up in the morning is an excruciating routine that my body has to entertain until I am forty. Yes, I keep telling myself that at forty I will get it right. I will pack and leave; I will resign. I am thirty-nine and everyone on my blocked call log would want to suck my blood dry; because of numerous loans that seem to never end. Every end month bring with it numerous toddlers of expenses and bills sprouting from every corner. Each year has heavy taxations on teachers pay that seem to skyrocket as new governments join leadership in every country that I happen to work in. My salary has become a punching bag from myriads of bills and potholes of problems and scavengers who would not want to see me happy-a retired happy teacher.
The early bird catches the biggest worm; well, I have been early for thirty-nine years, and the worms that I always catch are myriads of headaches due to difficult classes and trivial migraines due to numerous deadlines. Indeed, mine is a can of worms that I would not let any soul open.
Well, this might be your story but it isn’t mine. I love teaching, and it has opened opportunities for me to inspire and empower young minds to reach their potential. I am a formidable lifelong learner who has learned from disastrous techniques and orchestrated best teaching practices in every school I have gone to. I have left legacies. Learning to make better what I find rotten has taught me that everything and everyone can change to make this world a better place than we found it. This noble profession gave me an opportunity again to learn the minds of human beings and influence them towards the right direction.
Teaching is surely a magnificent calling, and every teacher should be taken with great esteem. Every teacher should be regarded highly, without a teacher, where else would this world be?