Saturday, February 24, 2007
Of dilemmas, and what the hell, teaching.
Well hello world, again, this is your friendly friend speaking to you once, again. Now before we get into anything else, here's some sporadic but well, nevertheless crucial and important updates about my life. Or should I just say update since nothing much has changed, except for the fact that I am a teacher now, a relief one at that. And of course before I continue, I shall give you the momentary benefit of closing your open jaws and easing your estranged pupils upon reading that unbelieveable phrase 'I am a teacher'.But knowing I remain who I am and god-damned proud of it, I shall say it once more: I am a teacher.
Anyhow, then again, maybe updates would be a more pertinent and, well, relevant word to use since the plural function connotes a myriad of stories, and yes of course, a plethora of experiences to share with all of you. And, as I've said elsewhere, that's why I'm here, again. And before I slip into the regular tranquility of the familar, the ease of repetition, I shall get on with my story.
And so my story begins on the 21st of February 2007 when I reported for work at CHIJ Primary School (Toa Payoh). Being the first male teacher ever in the school (or so I was told), it was strangely awkward and, to some extent, exhilirating to see so many women, or should I say, women-to-be staring at me as if I was some sort of exhibit. Hey wait, I still am an exhibit or some sorts.
The rest, they say, is history.
It's been amazing the way I've been running into a string of good luck of late at work, so much so that things that are meant to be remembered and embedded deep within our memory bank become forgotten. One of which is the... well what the fuck, A Level results. I haven't been giving it much thought of late but it was until I heard the occasional 'oh my god', the not so occasional 'I'm so fucked' that this hapless, or to some extent, cruel fact of reality hit me. And good lord, did it hit me like it hit V or what?
I've been hit with timeless thoughts about how possibly bad my grades might become. Ever since the formula Hardwork=Success didn't quite work out and has since been debunked, fear seems to replicate and proliferate faster than H1N5 virus within my bloodstream.
I've also been hit with even more timeless thoughts, or perhaps they might sadly remain as fantasies until 'March the Second' (behold!) comes to thee. Well, ever since the formula Hardwork=Success didn't quite work out and has since been debunked, the ever resilient Ivan sought to gain his success via ways and means that not only included sheer hardwork, but also a tad bit of intelligent studying and what not.
But, as I've said before, things didn't quite turn out the way I wanted it to during my As (refer to Econs Essay screwup), so it's really hard to tell, you know. And what makes it all harder is having a high-flyer sibling who constantly reminds you to take some time running and eating and sleeping and think about what I want to do next. Such choices become difficult and eventually, annoying to make because without friggin grades, we can't make friggin choices yet. It's not like I haven't got a rough sketch of some sorts (Teaching Literature or Photojournalism per se); I just need more affirmation when 'March the Second' comes to thee.
On a side note, I'm about 40 days away from my Canon 30D.
The rest they say, is of dilemmas, and what the hell, teaching.
Cheers.
posted@3:18 PM