Confide

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I am three years into my teaching degree at the moment. This means that after October next year, I will allegedly be fully equipped to be able to teach students ranging from Preps to Year 12s.

This means that in much less than a mere year and a half, assuming that I can land a teaching position, I will be standing in front of the classroom with approximately twenty-five pairs of eyes looking at me, yearning for a role-model, yearning for assistance, for a chance to be heard, for a chance to show their worth. Twenty-five pairs of eyes will look unto me and await my assertion in varied subjects. They will wait for the reinstating of classroom rules, for their chances to introduce themselves to one another, to learn what they do not yet know, to be inspired, to evolve.

But nobody has yet mentioned to me that students need, more than anything else, to confide. It frightens me that in my cohort of fellow pre-service teachers, there are some who cannot even spare ten extra minutes to assist in group assignments. There are some who would not reserve a seat for you if your wheelchair broke, there are some who care not for the quality of learning, let alone the quality of teaching. It frightens me because how then are their students to confide in them? How are students to accept the quality and need for education when some teachers are not willing to offer it?

The worst thing is when I am seated in a lecture or a tutorial and some of my peers behave in the same manner as any bored student would, considering not our lecturer and their attempts to tell us all that they can before we are fully qualified. These same peers would go on to be teachers who enforce the need for the respecting of themselves - how can one acquire respect, though, when they do not themselves give it?

I gained a huge amount of clarity two weeks ago when I was introduced to a new lecturer. She had been teaching in high school for over thirty years, and lecturing for the past six years. "Now it is time for me to have my respect," she said at the beginning of the lesson. I thought nothing of that, until some students began to walk in late. She bucketed down on them like acid rain, demanding a medical slip the next time anyone was late. Those students trembled silently for the remainder of the class. It was a discomforting feeling, being taught by her, but I learnt something from it all - she is right. How then would we be like as educators? Running late because we slept in? What principal would allow us to retain our jobs if we had this attitude flowing from us when we expect it never to come from our students?

Pre-service teachers need to realise the impact they will have on students. Thus far, I have not learnt about any of it in my university setting, rather in school settings. Children notice everything. Sometimes I forget to notice that.

A Costly Talent

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I have never quite been a fan of compliments because I do not know how to react to them. This has always been my problem, and it especially was in existence when I had 'happy birthday' sung to me when I was younger. Though, I do admit it still gets to me now. However, now moreso than 'happy birthday', there is something else that I am not a big fan of when it comes to compliments.

And that is the classic compliment, "wow, you are so good at art!" Thank you. Really, I appreciate the compliments that I receive for my artworks, it keeps my spirit high and almighty - and that there lies the problem, for when my spirit is high and mighty and my bank account is high and mighty and my university art unit is high and mighty, then crazy things occur wherein I lose a great deal of money to ensure my consistent receiving of compliments. And today, that happened.

Today I spent just under three-hundred dollars on art supplies for my new art unit. They were compulsory, but had I not been graciously encouraged by my artistic admirers, then I would not have been caught in a situation where I feel like I am paying with my flesh for something that will go to some unit results. To be honest, something more than just paint or pencil goes into my artworks. Invisible blood, sweat and tears. I go through so much effort firstly to devise the concepts of new artworks, and then comes the execution. Both do not occur on one day each, as much as I would love them to. They take up my mental and physical stamina, and these invested things are priceless. 

Having lost so much money thus far that I cannot afford to lose on artworks that have been seen and critiqued once weigh out the feelings of my so-called talent. I feel as though I am doing all of this for no reason. I am not capable, or I might be, of opening my own gallery, though the choice was granted to me today in my second art unit, a unit where I also have to spend around this much money on supplies. I just wish there was some sort of support system for artists so that they could acquire all of the pricey things at ease. Had I not had some sort of income, I think that I would draw far less. Unless I stalk areas of wet concrete with a wooden stick in my hand. 

Art itself should be priceless, and its supplies. I wonder every day how Picasso made it before he was famous - how did he afford all of that paint? All of those canvases? It frightens me. It also frightens me how art is becoming less and less of a thing in secondary schools. All this money, all that disappearance of art classes, all that effort going to the same pay cheque as someone teaching another subject like Japanese, I am beginning to wonder if Art is a useful skill at all.

The Impact of Teaching

"The average American will meet ten-thousand people in their lifetime. Ten-thousand people - that's a lot of folks; but if every one of you changed the lives of just ten people, and each one of those people changed the lives of another ten people, and another ten, then in five generations, a hundred and twenty-five years, the class of 2014 will have changed the lives of eight-hundred million people. Think about it. Over twice the population of the United States. Go one more generation, and you can change the entire population of the world."

This is a large concept to grasp, that so little people can affect so many others. It applies not only to America, but also to the rest of the world that the average human will meet around ten-thousand people in their lifetime. And just like negative aspects, so too can the positive circulate around the Earth's population.

One form of circulating positivity is the path that I am currently taking: the path towards teaching. A teacher is no longer just an authoritative figure; not only a parent, nor just a guardian, rather an agent of change. A teacher has the ability to throw one's world upside down in a matter of words. The phrase 'you learn something new every day' is used constantly in an educative environment and it is threaded into the learning atmosphere almost subliminally. Though some students do not wish to be there, they, without a doubt, will be learning things in the entirety of their day. And these things are not necessarily only based on the curriculum, but they can be things associated with every day life.

I am estimating that there are around six hundred students currently undertaking the Bachelor of Education at my university - in total, despite how many years they are into it. And I am estimating that since we will graduate as teachers, that we will be exposed to more people than the average person, thus I will up the average number of ten-thousand to twenty-thousand people. With those calculations at hand, that means that collectively, all of the people currently studying the Bachelor of Education will, in their lifetimes, impact the lives of around twelve million individuals. That is just over half the population of Australia.

The power of education is incredible. Though he does not refer to it directly, Admiral William H. McRaven in the above video encapsulates in the first couple of minutes of his speech just how powerful the impact of one cohort truly is. Prior to that moment, I guarantee the graduating students of the University of Texas did not know just how big they are in such a small world. 

And then I got to thinking; I recently just completed a unit called Rethinking Australian Studies, which ultimately was taught by non-stereotypical looking Aboriginal people who brought forth to our class the need to break free from the stereotyping and tokenising of all Aboriginal people, and brought into light the atrocities committed at the time of European settlement in Australia. The unit went much deeper than that, though, much deeper than the mere 'Sorry Speech' Kevin Rudd delivered - it required us, the students, to choose something to protest for or against, in terms of pro-Aboriginal rights. 

I initially was uncomfortable about the entire idea. I was frightened that the Police would give me a bad record for having to physically take photographs of myself with my protest poster in a public place, and I was worried that I would the get the message caught up and whatnot. Everything, though, turned out fine. In my class I met dozens of new people who I made an impact on with my poster art, I made an impact on my lecturer and two teachers, and made an impact on the people in the city that day who gawked at me standing with my group and our protest signs in front of the Parliament steps. 

And it has made such a difference in my life. There is an uncountable amount of strangers who I probably impacted on with my poster alone, that I have not yet met, yet they count on the people that I have actively changed. Every reaction we obtained would have then caused a chain reaction - those strangers would have gone home, gone to the pub, gone to work, gone to a fitness class and they would have told their friends or family members or co-workers about what they witnessed in the city, who later would have told their friends, family members or co-workers. It is an ongoing reaction. Imagine all the impact everyone would make if more people took a stand for various aspects of social justice. 

And that is the beauty of teaching. Not only are teachers the only teachers, but so are the students. I learn so much from going on pre-service teaching placement. I learn from the staff I meet, the fellow pre-service teachers I meet, and the students. Life is an ongoing lesson. We all matter. We all make a difference. Each choice we have impacts not only ourselves but also others - think about it: change one thing that you did today, whether it be a different setting or a different way of answering something or a different person you sat next to; how much difference would that have made? Yes. A lot.

Lecture Selfies

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One would fall under the assumption that three years into a bachelor that exists to create teachers out of moderately young people, also considering those people have paid over twenty-thousand dollars thus far, those people would start taking their lectures seriously. 

One would then come to the realisation that this is, surprisingly, not the case. It is difficult to comprehend that this is so, and it is difficult to believe me when I say that it is, as your mind falls into denial about the fact that these people will one day educate your daughters, sons, nephews and nieces. But do believe me, for today I witnessed something that I had to sacrifice half the attention time I give to my lecturer just so I could observe it again and again to ensure that my mind was not being devious by playing tricks on me. Alas, it was not, and I cannot believe what I saw despite it being utterly real. In fact, it happened right next to me the entire time. 

Had I not relocated to the back of the lecture, I would not have witnessed this occurrence. Thanks to the air-conditioner being blasted in the lecture theatre in the icy coldness of winter, I had moved away from my comfort zone. Nevertheless, I was able to witness this bizarre act - the act of the girl seated beside me continuously and repeatedly sticking her arm far out in front of her, holding her phone tightly so as it will not fall, the camera aimed at her face. The girl then proceeded to reach her little thumb out from the side of her phone, aim it directly in the bottom-center of the screen, after which she began to, in an unabating manner, take photographs of herself.

I should not be talking about a fellow peer in this manner, I accept that we live in the twenty-first century and that because of iPhones we are the most narcissistic generation; I should be able to empathise for her, because not only was it a difficult job to get out of bed at eight in the morning and drive to university wherein she had to merely sit and passively accept all of the lecture information being thrown at her - my, what a daunting and tiring thing to do - but she also had to tear herself away from her reflection. Her mirror in the meantime sat all alone at her home so it was only natural for her to revisit it temporarily on her phone.

I should let you know, however, that I acted worse when I was in my first year in lectures. I would conduct Skype webcam chats with my overseas friends and I would have bubblegum chewing competitions and I even turned up drunk off my face for one lecture which happened to be the funniest thing, after attempting to make it up the lecture steps without falling down from laughing too much, because my lecturer that day had decided to play an old video where there were Amish people singing about tradition - mix that with an excessively happy drunk, and chaos ensued. 

However, let me reinstate that that was my crazy behaviour in my first year. My first year was a pathway course equivalent to the first year of my bachelor and I only had this sort of fun when nothing important was happening. Now, let me add the contrast: this girl is in a burst subject that occurs over five days, at the cost of $750. Each day contains four-weeks worth of material, which means each lecture is two-weeks worth. Because of her dire need to photograph herself on Snapchat to show the visual of her geographical location, this girl threw away one-weeks worth of learning. She had the opportunity to throw away thirty-minutes worth in her first year like I did.

It just interests me at this point in time. It is so fascinating but also frightening. These people, who have not the ability to lengthen their attention spans over the course of our bachelor, will have their VIT certificate at the end of next year, which means that they will be literal educators. They will be taking a stand as role models for children. They will be yearning for attention, screaming at students to hark. It will be an interesting display - especially when it comes to long meetings and assemblies; I wonder which teachers will be the last ones standing. 

Inspiring Children

Studying a four-year long course can have its downtimes, especially when it comes to leaving your bed every morning. Studying a course about studying so that you can inspire others to study too can also have its downtimes, yet there are precious gemstones that lie hidden every now and again.

Yesterday, I came across one of these precious gems, at a moment I least expected - the moment right before I left class. I was one of the four left in the class, the other twenty-two having ran off as soon as they handed in their work hours earlier, and my friend and I stayed behind even considering we finished hours earlier, while the other two worked on their essays, attempting to finish before four. Now that all of that was over, we all began packing up our things. Amongst the ruckus caused from the clattering and zipping of bags, a classmate said something to me that will resonate within me throughout my entire teaching career.

"Remember that origami frog you made us make last year for your science presentation?" I had a quick blast to the past in my mind, and recalled the time when I uploaded an instructional video of myself on YouTube making an origami frog for a mini-lesson in class, just in case I stuffed up. My classmates kept up well and truly and were each able to make a paper-frog that could hop around. I did not know, though, that it would still be spoken about a year later. "Yes?" I replied.

"Well," she continued," the other day I happened to be in my niece's bedroom and right up on the top shelf, on display is the frog that I made in your mini-lesson!" I had to stop for a minute to absorb it - how did it get there? Why was it there? "It turns out she kept my frog that I made in your class and she is now so inspired by it that she has ought her own origami kit and is making all these wonderful origami objects!" I could not believe it. A little person that I do not know has been inspired by something I set forth into the world through a minuscule lesson, a lesson that I thought was only for a mere mark that would be forgotten after I had graduated. Boy, was I wrong.

Something that I once thought so little of is now the basis of inspiration for a little girl. Something that I once considered irrelevant to life is now the meaning of life for that little person. Something that I thought was unimportant is now so important for her that she requested that her mother bought her an origami kit, that she took the time to clean her top shelf and reserve a large portion of it for my idea. My mind whirled. And then it dawned on me: we can impact people without even knowing, without even considering it, without even planning it.

I still remember that day. It was such a drag. I did not feel comfortable teaching a lesson. I ddi not feel comfortable standing in front of people I did not know to make them do something that they probably did not want to do. I did not know what to do with the topic I had chosen, which was about the life-cycles of frogs, so I stuck with the idea of folding one and watching it hop across a desk. To my surprise, it ended up hopping into someone's life and changing it for the better. I may have just inspired that little girl to think a little more creatively each time she is faced with a problem. Maybe she may go on to inspire her friends in the classroom to make objects out of scrap paper. Maybe she will become a paper artist, making paper sculptures. Maybe she will become a pop-up book designer. Maybe she will run a paper company. Who knows?

But what I know for certain is that my simple act paved an entirely new path for her. And that is the effect we teachers have on the world. One little footstep at a time, one little activity, one little idea can make a whole heap of new ones. We aspire to inspire. 

Divergent

I amuse myself sometimes. Actually, I amuse myself all the time. I also amuse all sorts of people. But more than being amusing, I also am confusing in terms of my divergent nature, how I fall into several descriptors that differ from initial thoughts of me.

The main descriptor that amuses me and confuses others is the fact that I have decided to embark on an educative journey. It is something that most everyone I meet does not expect. In fact, the last thing they would expect me to be on the journey towards being is a teacher, a role model, an educator. The way I talk, the way I behave and the things that I do scream otherwise and it makes it difficult for people to believe me when I claim that my area of interest lies in the world of academia, of learning to learn to teach.

People simply cannot fathom that a person like me who speaks more street-talk than not will be the director of a classroom one day. They then begin to fit the pieces together when I consistently begin to drop words that are too large for them to comprehend, and soon come to the acceptance of the fact that I may lecture their sons and daughters in the near future. And that is what I certainly love most about myself, the fact that I am not who I appear to be. This can go brutally awful, though.

Not in favour of this amusement is the parents of these little people. If a parent saw me at a party, or at the shopping centre or anywhere else I journey through, they will consider me the last person that they would ever want near their child, let alone the last person they want instructing their child. I have befuddled the parents of the students that I work with, though, on my placement rounds. One particular mother became more obsessed with me than her daughter was. I remember sitting at the back of the car on our way home from an abandoned mental asylum and my cousin turned around and asked me, "why is there an Indian lady smiling at you and waving?" It turned out it was her. Her daughter was asleep in the back of her car, so her mother decided to do all of the waving. I rolled down the window and had a miniature conversation with her across two lanes on a main road - it was fantastic!

My mentor teachers also judge me upon my appearance and my quiet nature and my "unwillingness to show initiative". I soon also amuse them when I start teaching, and I have had several occasions where some of my mentors have become jealous of my bond with the students, particularly one from primary school. I cannot help it. I will not compromise my ability to connect with students immediately so as to not make my mentors look bad. I am there to gain experience and I will "show initiative" in my own ways. 

And that is what teaching is all about, in my opinion. Being divergent. I could not care what the educator of my children will look like, smell like nor would I care that they enjoy listening to rap music and swearing a little too much in each sentence that they say. What I care about is their ability to connect with my child so as to allow my child to confide with them on an educative basis. And that is who I am for children that I teach. Parents need to judge based on practice not on physical presentation. 

University: Sink or Swim

I am so overwhelmed at the moment. Just when I thought I could get a grip on university and its requirements and the whole teaching gig, I cannot. It has taken its toll on me simply because it has scared my interests away, and now they lie elsewhere and it has become strikingly more difficult to get them back.

As a pre-service teacher, I am experiencing the backstage scenes of teaching, the curriculum and the repetition in it all. Students think they have it bad when teachers repeat everything, but to teachers it is habitual and required. I am losing taste in all of this because I feel that I can be more, that I am capable of more than wasting my life away repeating things to people who have their minds on other things. I can be more than eating an apple during a lunchbreak at a dull coloured desk listening to the coughs of colleagues. I can be more than a nine to five job – five in the morning, that is.

It is just too demanding, especially for a person with such broad interests as mine. If I had things my way I would live in a secluded house on a secluded hill and write for a living, painting and drawing in my spare time. Nothing else would be of any importance. And I would thrive that way. My passions have not been spreading out to students too well, I think, and that is why I am feeling less passionate. Though, it is hard to feel passionate when you have a curriculum laying out your entire year in principles and expectations.

Days where I think teaching is not for me, I wonder what is, and I wonder what suffices. And then it all comes down to money. If I had a copious amount of money then I would own that secluded house on that secluded hill and I would not have to worry about anything at all, and I could output my dreams onto canvas and paper with no deadlines and no hesitations. I would have my headspace and my peace whilst keeping all that I desire. But life does not work like that.

Life requires you to communicate with people you would rather not breathe near. Life requires you to be things you are not comfortable in being otherwise life packs its belongings and rolls on without you. Though we cherish deceased heroes, we do not talk about them all the time. They are just as forgotten as the past season until it comes up again and I loathe that. This makes me feel that all of this is worthless. What is the point of me going out of my comfort zone only to be even more uncomfortable?

And then I remember the excited look in some pupils’ eyes. I remember my dedication pouring out of me and into others, and I feel empowered again. Though I might not be classified a hero for the world, I know I might be the hero of some. Time will tell, and though it is difficult I must pursue. Whenever I hear a person demean a university student I will offer them one of my unit guides and watch as their faces drop. Because it is only in experiencing something when we learn about it.

I will sink and I will swim and I will sink and swim again. But that is the life I have chosen and that is the life that will bring me closer to that secluded house on that secluded hill.