Nomad

I remember a quote about globalisation shared in a passage I did in JC a long time ago.

Globalisation is like a strawberry milkshake, oozing over the planet.

Before anyone starts making milkshake and my lack of a yard jokes, I have to clarify that this is not a post about globalisation. (now would be a great time to stop stifling that yawn!) No, this is actually a post about the fuzzy-wuzzy things we call emotions.

I think everyone had fleeting ambitions when they were younger. Then, when you went to JC, it’s almost always business/law/medicine. My “ambitions” ranged from *cough* florist/ *splutter* air stewardess/journalist/lawyer/dentist/teacher. The last one stuck around for the longest, like the smell of body odour in the boys’ locker room. And just like a strawberry milkshake, my emotions towards this said profession has been sticky, saccharine and in the end, destined for the trash can.

I have to be brutally honest, the idea of being a teacher has never occurred to me. It only occurred to me because a teacher said I seemed suited for the job. Fast forward to my teenage years and I have my fair share of really unconventional teachers, to say the least. You know how they say reverse psychology works on certain individuals? I am definitely not one of those individuals.

Reactions to my proud proclamation, “I WANT TO BE A TEACHER,” was met with laughter, incredulous expressions, looks of disbelief (“She is so quiet, how to be a teacher?!” was what my Mathematics tutor told my mother when I was in JC), condescending encouragement and genuine support. I did doubt myself though. On this small island, being a teacher would most probably mean being under the watchful eye of the Big Brother. Almost every individual that has undergone the government’s schooling system know about how brutal it can be. And yet, after graduating with abysmal results, I was lucky enough to be selected for a position as a teacher. I fervently prayed that I would get in. I got in. I got out in less than a year. Till today, I still think that I was lucky to be selected.

I loved seeing how the students improved. I loved the way I could teach. I didn’t like a lot of things. I think those who had also gotten out would agree with my list. But the worst part was how that stint utterly destroyed my belief that there are good people in our industry. Or rather, it made me realise that every human being can be just as self-centred and hypocritical as the ones I had the misfortune to meet during my short temporary job before I entered teaching.

I just have very bad people luck, getting co-workers who were more than happy to audition for BEST EMPLOYEE OF THE OFFICE daily in front of our superiors, while I quietly plodded along. Alarms rang whenever my mistakes were brought to said superior’s attention. After some time, it just seemed healthier to quit and pursue my degree in English. The only condition was that I needed to look for a full-time job. I found one…in education again no less. Private education companies should be more well-run, with the added benefit of better staff welfare! (mini Economics lesson available here) *pops this bubble*

Now, I am drafting my resignation letter next to my offer of a trip to Japan to undergo training. Some might deem me foolish, while one person I know applauded my decision to not go (notice I didn’t say if said individual supported my resignation?) I just have this scarily accurate intuition if a person is going to make me pick up the slack at work, and sad to say, the built-in alarm goes off quite often. Especially since yesterday.

I am thankful to my mother for allowing me to do so though. She is a Tiger Mom and my leaving the cushy civil service was a blow to her, bigger than my less than stellar A level results I suppose. Still, though she does bring it up every now and then, she understood (then, I am not sure if she would if I was still living at home when I am a 40-year-old spinster) my need to leave. Now, she isn’t exactly supportive, but she has nodded her head in the tiniest of nods. Not bad for a woman whose personal motto should be, “Monotony is the spice of life.”

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