The Seat in the Front Corner

Quite recently, I have acquired enough confidence to sit in front of the classroom whether it be in a tutorial or in a lecture, only in the absence of air conditioning. Because of this, today I arrived in a certain class where this is constant and was surprised.

I was surprised to find my seat empty. I now deem it my seat because today proved that in that particular cohort of future English teachers, which is generally full to the extent where some students have to sit on the floor or place a spare chair on the side of a packed table, the seat where I normally sit was waiting for me. It was as though I was the Moses of the classroom, parting rows of students to get to my long-awaited chair, situated in the perfect position of the classroom where the computer is accessible considering I am my teacher's personal technician, and situated at an acute angle from the main board, allowing a pleasurable viewing experience.

It came as a shock to me. I normally arrive fifteen minutes early in order to reserve myself that seat, though I did not quite imagine that seat to be waiting for me in a packed room filled with students. Today, having been late for the first time, it came as a shock to my teacher, and I suppose it came as a shock to my peers. Nobody touched that chair. No, it is not because I have some form of germ that descends from my rear and spreads all over the chair, I think it is because my memory is to be preserved in hopes of my return, as uncanny as that sounds. The entire thing was uncanny. 

I suppose it is a good thing to have a reserved seat. It made me feel somewhat superior, that my presence is expected and that I am worthy of a seat and table space. Three girls were seated on the floor at the back, before I had arrived. Why had not one of them taken the seat I normally sit at? I wonder now, had I been terribly sick and not attended, would everyone in the room simply stay out of my chair? Have I unknowingly claimed ownership over it? Is my teacher that frightening that people prefer to hide on the floor at the back of the room? 

I like that chair now, more than ever. I like that space, that acute position, that technician position. I like that it is recognised as an area for myself, that without being told, people respect that area in respect of me. This happening is similar to that of my contemporary fiction lecture experience. The first lecture had all the students sitting on the corner chairs, none of which willing to let others pass into the middle seating areas because their things were sprawled all over the little tables that fold out in front of them. So, instead of asking, the people that came in later on began to sit on the floor besides those seated. It was not until the lecturer told the people seated on the corners to move towards the middle, that they did. Anyway, I occupied a spare table and chair on the stage and that is where I have been seated for the past six lectures. It is probably now officially my spot, too. Every week that I attend, that spare desk and chair await me. My lecturer strokes my hand as she asks me questions to ensure my comfort, and I am very sure that because I was absent from that lecture today, it was felt.

Perhaps my lecturers even respect me as much as I respect them. I acknowledge them as human beings. One lecturer was away for a week. When he returned, I was the only one to ask him if everything was okay, and it was not - his father had passed away. He smiled at me after he had answered, respecting that I had taken the liberty to ask him about himself. He is, after all a human being, and as am I, and he has a voice and opinions which I take into account for my opinions and future voice projection during my lectures, as I am an aspiring lecturer. This sense of respect, though, should be passed around from every student to every teacher, vice versa. It is a level of respect that goes without saying. We are all humans, we all have purposes.

Now, when I sit on chairs and use tables that are invisibly labeled as 'mine', I will smile and sink into the chair and sink into the feeling that I too am respected, and that my presence is felt. It is an important thing to feel seeing as we are all temporary beings.

Late

Yes. Late is something I always am, lately, but not to things that are due or appointments that I have made, rather late to things I have promised, such as delivering an essay a day.

I see my current lifestyle as problematic because it does not quite encompass who I want to be, entirely. I have no time to express myself creatively unless I am able to produce a powerpoint presentation, whereI fully do express myself and receive a whole lot of gratitude towards my effort in my powerpoint presentations from peers that I otherwise would never have spoken to in my entire life. That is quite beneficial, yes, but I still am not fulfilling myself entirely yet. 

I suppose tutoring people also takes a toll on me. I am getting money for giving parts of my intellect, filtered intellect actually because younger children fail to understand most of my vocabulary, and I sit there waiting for them to finish a simple task, a simple writing task or mathematical equation and they take their time sharpening their pencils or blowing their noses or refilling their plastic bottles of water and it all drains away their parents' money and I sit there wondering whether teaching really amounts to something or whether some students just want a leading figure in their lives, one that is not either one of their parents, and I think that there is the problem - I am getting paid to be a guardian.

Being a guardian has its price, though. Now the children I tutor all are too dependent on me, and I hardly put in any effort, or maybe I do and I do not recognize it as much as they do. But, what I am beginning to realise is that the schools they attend, two, one higher class and one lower class, are failing to meet their needs to the extent where I am hired to help them meet them. This should not be the case. Rather than chasing the curriculum, schools should also take the time to assist all of those children who are falling behind. Teachers, after all, are getting paid to do so. What about integration aides? This whole teaching thing is a joke. 

Last year at one of my placement schools, a young girl had a speech difficulty and the government gave her a test to do and she apparently scored 'more than average' so they would not give her school the extra funds to support her. Regardless, the integration aide had helped her out a little, and left on numerous occasions when she would get too frustrated to even bother understanding what to do with her. I could not bear to witness this, so then I took over and I boosted her creativity with a few words and a lot of smiles, and soon enough this girl began to write like never before.

Similarly, another girl who spoke no word of English was struggling because she was left in the classroom whilst waiting for an ESL school to accept her. She would literally just sit there as everyone spoke a different language. The teacher would give her books to read and things to write but she would not do either because she was not capable. I decided to use the Vietnamese girl next to her to translate things I said to her and things she said back to me, and soon enough we began communicating with pictures, and it worked. She would await another mini lesson from me every time that I had placement, and soon enough she began reciting words of her own in English just by looking at the pictures.

I have also come across autistic children who performed better with my aid than the teacher's or the integration aide's. Some teachers no longer put in that extra effort, though I am not so sure that they ever did. It pays off, not financially, but spiritually, to help a child who really needs it. Maybe the education world would be a better place if this were the case.