By: Mohsen Saleh
Source: Mohsen Saleh
Anyone that knows me knows two things about me- I hate gifts and I hate being praised. This is for no other reason than both make me feel uncomfortable. And honestly, sometimes I feel quite undeserving. This could also be because more often than not, they can be rather overcooked.
This was the norm until I started to understand students. What touches the heart more than anything is their letters, words of praise and thanks. What makes their case different is the fact that they are still walking through life entrenched in fitra. You feel their words, their praise and their smiles. They’re upset – you know about it. They’re angry – you know about it. They have no clue what’s going on, you still know about it. No façade. It is what is with kids. Their entire disposition is complete genuineness. Everything about them holds meaning. Being around them has really helped me maintain a positive frame of mind. It has changed my personality and temperament drastically over the years. It’s contagious.
I still haven’t forgotten any of my teachers and I know my students will forever remember me. I hope I’ll be leaving with them nothing but lessons on life and faith. Academically, you can only do so much as a teacher and of course it’s important, so you give it your all. But if you don’t work on putting them in that frame of mind, that zone, that drive for the love of learning and being the best they can be, what have you really achieved with your students?
What’s special and what makes a teacher’s job worth while, are those moments and lessons they keep with them for life. How have I made them continue through life as better citizens of this country and servants of God? More than anything what affected me most was the fact that I’ll be accountable in front of every single one of them on that Day. I just hope I have done what I can to make them the best they can be. And part of me says I didn’t. No matter what, I’ve realized whatever you do for the students, you always could’ve done so much more. Fact is, It’s never enough.
I’ve had a tough morning. It was the last day with my class and I honestly thought I was going to get it over and done with. I’ve had headaches and grief with a lot of them! Instead of continuing on with what I thought would be an over and out day, I ended up finding myself struggling to get through many average day to day routines of a school day.
One of my toughest and staunchest foot soldiers in my class against classroom order waited for me in the carpark with his father as I pulled in. When I stepped out of my car, he met me with a simple gift and a card saying thank you. He didn’t say a word. His father shook my hand and was compelled to tell me something. He knew his son couldn’t muster the courage to say what he feels and I don’t blame him, so he thought he’d do it himself. He told me the boy was in the car saying he was going to miss the lessons and connection he had with me. He said he’s never had it or felt it when at school and he thanked me for it. He then told me that his son was compelled to buy me something so he opened up his moneybox last night and used what he could gather to buy the present. I didn’t know what to say. As his son looked to the ground on the verge of tears, I was taken aback. All of the sudden every struggle and headache meant nothing. This same theme continued throughout the day.
Marking the roll for the last time, the students failure to line up and listen for instructions was all of the sudden meaningless. I was overcome with reflection almost instantly. Those that drove me up the wall and caused me much grief for most of the year all of the sudden were the most special. Looking into each of their eyes as they were jumping around and running a muck told me a story. I remembered each time I pained them or made them smile. Each lesson learnt; whether it be taught to them or forced. It was surreal.
As I reached the last name on the roll, one of the students called out from the back.
“Why are your eyes red sir?”
“They’re itchy,” I replied.
The views expressed in this article are the author’s and do not necessarily reflect those of MuslimVillage.com.
