Sometimes I feel so overwhelmed I wish I could just hide in a corner and make everything go away. I wonder if it’s because the system simply tends to overload, or if it’s because I’m incapable of handling it. And the fact that I used to be an events coordinator, where multi-tasking was at the very core of the occupation, doesn’t help one bit. It gives me the false sense of belief that I, of all people, should be able to handle juggling that many things on my plate. Apparently, that hasn’t quite prepared me for this.

I marvel at those who seem to have it all figured out. People who have more administrative duties, have a family and still manage to stay on top of things. I would love to observe them for a whole day and pick up some of the strategies they’ve employed that has helped them achieve everything. Not surprisingly, the word ’sacrifice’ immediately comes to mind. But exactly how much have they been sacrificing? Because I know for sure that I’m not willing to sacrifice “me-time”; times such as these where I can reflect, recharge and recuperate after a long day. After all, it’s one of the factors that has kept me sane thus far.

The other factor being God, of course. It’s my dependence on Him that has kept me going, kept me breathing. But even so, I often find myself leaning on my own strength, and asking God to just hang around so He can catch me when I fall. But y’know, I don’t want to make God stand behind me. I want Him right there beside me, holding my hand, carrying me. That’s His rightful place in my life and I want to honour that. I just hope I’ll always remember it.

In the meantime, excuse me while I go scream into my pillow.

We celebrated National Day at school yesterday and I must say, I really didn’t expect to enjoy myself as much as I did. I thought I’d be struggling to get my kids enthused; little did I know that they would be more than willing to put aside their pre-conceived notions about the scaled-down classroom celebrations and fully participate in the activities. We had such a wonderful time playing the games, and singing our little hearts out loud to the National Day songs, I think we got a little high. :p

However amid all the laughter, I nearly cried. As I was singing along, it dawned on me that I would probably never experience this with my form class again. I almost broke down right there. In fact, for the past few weeks, whenever I’m teaching these kids, there’d always be moments when I would just look out at them and right there, even though all of them were with me, I’d just be missing them. Call me sappy, but I really do have a crazy huge attachment to this class of mine. Perhaps it’s the “first form class” syndrome but I always think of them as my babies. My darlings. And because we’ve been through so much over the past two years, I really can’t help but hold them dear to my heart.

As much as I would love to have them all come back next year, I know they don’t have the same plans for their lives. Some are content with working immediately after they graduate, some yearn for bigger things, while others are happy to go wherever their results bring them. Whatever happens, I just want all of them to be the best they can be and be proud of their own achievements.

Saying goodbye to them is gonna be so incredibly tough.

So my last attempt to blog a whole series of posts based on The Purpose Driven Life failed. Majorly. But really, was anyone even surprised? I’ve never been able to keep up with my own blog. Sometimes, I think it’s a lot bigger than I make it out to be. Alas, here I am again, in all my humbling glory, blogging. I’ll just blog once a week, I tell myself. Yeeaaah. We’ll see about that.

Let’s see, what has happened since June? Oh, not too much. I’m still taking Spanish classes (my first test is next week! Madre mia!), I went to the Da Vinci exhibition at the Science Centre, I got myself hooked onto Postcrossing, I had a massively awesome time wailing to Rock tunes at a slightly dodgy karaoke lounge (but they had an amazing catalogue of English songs), I went to see Liverpool FC play when they came down to Singy (yay!),  and I’ve started to finalise my December plans to London & Paris (woo!). AND all this time, I’ve managed to survive (albeit barely) the demands of work. Anyone wanna pat my back?

Now we’re on the last day of July, and I can’t help wondering if I’ve done anything impactful over the last 7 months. More specifically, will I look back at this year thinking, have I done anything for anyone? It’s one thing to lead an eventful life. I’ve attended 3 concerts, gone to a big (by my standards) sporting game, picked up a new language… but what about helping someone out? Getting someone out of a bad habit? Leading them to learn more about God? I don’t know if I have the fruits to show for that.

I’m probably feeling all this because it’s my last year with my form class and I have no idea what’s going to happen to them after they’ve graduated. Just two days ago, while standing at the back of the classroom and singing the National Anthem with the kids, I couldn’t help feeling a wave of emotions overcoming me. I wanted to treasure the moment so badly because I knew that some of these kids are not going to come back next year. You see, as much as I would like to have all of them stay one more year to take their O levels, I also know that that isn’t the route for some of them. As a teacher, the one thing I care most about is making sure I’ve impacted a life enough for a student to have enough confidence in his/her abilities so that he/she can fulfil his/her full potential. And I really don’t know if I’ve prepared my kids enough for life after Secondary School. I wonder if there is anything I could’ve done better over these past 2 years.

That said, I’m glad to see evidence that my class has grown. Many have become serious about learning and are focused on doing well. They’ve formed study groups. They’re asking more questions. They’ve even put in more effort into subjects that they don’t love. It has been a long and arduous process, but I’m happy to see that change has come. I just hope I’ve done enough.

Ahh… Friday nights. The perfect time to unwind: head out to town with some friends, enjoy good food, and laugh the night away. Not for this girl. I’m perfectly happy to go home, take a long shower and watch a good movie. Perhaps I’ve outgrown all that “partying”. Or perhaps I’m just too exhausted from the weeks’ work to do anything else. Regardless, I’m perfectly content staying in.

Although, today being the last day of the school semester, my friends believe it’s imperative that we celebrate the occasion. After all, we survived five tumultuous months and we’ve managed to stay sane the whole time. Sure, we fell terribly ill along the way, lost plenty of sleep, and sacrificed our social lives… still, we came out of the fires unscathed. We all agreed that was some achievement so it calls for some major partying. Alas, today was one of those long days where we had a workshop and a school function back-to-back, and with the heat and humidity rising, many of us just wanted to veg out at home. Besides, let’s be practical. Partying requires energy, which we barely have. So I’m rationalising that we need to recuperate first, then we’ll be able to fully honour the true meaning of the word, and not make it a half-assed attempt. Agreed?

Now excuse me while I go prop my feet up.

This morning, I woke up, stared at the heap of scripts before me and wondered why I got myself into teaching.

Growing up, I only ever wanted to become a journalist. Since I was 14, I already knew I wanted a degree in Mass Communications so for the next 8 years, I kept my focus and worked extremely hard to achieve my goal. I was completely on track, until I realised that my fickle-minded self would not contend with a simple journalism major, and that I didn’t need to major in it to be a journalist. So I diversified. I settled on Public Relations and Media & Communication at uni and gave myself some business and marketing perspective.

Upon graduation, I wanted to gain some experience before diving into full-time journalism. I believed it was important to gain an in-depth knowledge about the various industries first before writing about it. I applied for several PR and Events Marketing positions and within a couple of months, I got my foot into the world of fashion & lifestyle.

It was a great platform for me as I had to constantly juggle several clients at a time, learning how to deal with the nuances of each industry. I won’t tell you what they are specifically, but know that some take pride in name-dropping, and appropriate responses include looking at them in awe. They love it.

Tired of all the schmoozing, I decided less than 6 months into the job, that I wasn’t cut out for this. I’d considered going back to my first love – journalism – but realised that it would be more or less the same thing, only this time, I’ll be on the other side of the fence. So I prayed, re-assessed my life and learnt that I’d only be satisfied if I were doing something more meaningful.

I didn’t get into teaching immediately. In fact, it took a couple of failed applications before I understood that I had to have a go at relief teaching first, before finalising my plans. What happened after that was clearly God’s answer to my prayer. I was given a six-month relief teaching stint that wasn’t like what most relief teachers had to do. I had to take over a teacher’s full workload and teach all her classes. I was thrown into the deep end of the ocean, but it was also a great learning experience for me. In fact, this stint quashed all doubts. I knew I was ready to teach. So with confidence, I submitted my application one last time.

Despite having many moments like what I experienced this morning, I have not once regretted my decision to become an educator. Yes, the workload is a total pain in the ass, I hardly have time to hang out with my friends, and the kids occasionally make me wonder why I even bother, but the fundamental idealisms pertaining to teaching has kept me going every single day. If I didn’t believe I can help these kids to find their purpose, I wouldn’t be able to haul my ass out of bed at 5:30 every morning, and still go into work feeling optimistic.