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Yesterday, being another day of teaching, I stood on the peripheral of a student’s reality and witnessed once again first hand how things happen where I live. The frustration and growing hopelessness on my student’s face was heartbreaking to say the least. Here is a student who works like a Trojan trying to succeed with every challenge laid at her feet but there is no cooperation from her peers who should be involved since this is a school fundraiser. How sad it is that teachers are so apathetic when it comes to supporting a young person who is motivated and hardworking.
I can only advise my student to let this go..not because she cannot cope or will not succeed but because she will not be allowed to succeed.
Walk away….you have more talent than what other people are worth.
I don’t know where I would be without the written word….words strung together by poets and novelists, serious writers of non fiction who make facts so alluring that reality does seem like fiction.
Words in the middle of the night chase away the nightmares that past remembrances seem to evoke from absolutely nowhere. I never think of certain people who crossed my path, those who came and upset my days and re organised my routine. I try to forget those who bruised the heart and rendered me for a while unable to move forward or back. My mind grasps the image of Frodo when the Spider wrapped him in a cocoon after he had been in her nest…he was conscious but not able to move and it was only his good and faithful friend Samwise Gangee who watched over him and fought for him to regain himself. When sleep comes they,the past memories, edge to the forefront of my mind and cause stress and anxiety that makes awakening a pleasure. It is then that I reach for my kindle or tablet and search for the writers whose words I know will ease the restlessness that haunts me. Always the past to upset the balance of things. Why? I ask myself.
An excerpt that arrested my attention:
It used to be that if you were a child you were able to live a safe and secure life. Of course some children had more than others and some were loved more than others. But the truth was that in general children were protected by parents, teachers and the law. Since time immemorial there were the abandoned ones, ghetto children and street children. Every society was guilty of child abuse to varying degrees and organisations and judicial systems worked tirelessly to correct these ghastly realities. Children were in the forefront of advertising everything from telephones to cars. Cute babies and little puppy dogs were used mercilessly in the market place. Then the world changed. In the year 2060 it became extremely dangerous to be a child in any society.
And so this is where this story begins. In 2060 after the clash of the continents. The super powers who succeeded not in solving their unreconcilable differences but who collectively succeeded in alienating parts of the earth from each other. Nothing improved. Societies became more barbaric and Mother Earth began to die. At first it was such a slow process that no one, not even the great scientists of the earth noticed. Then suddenly people began talking about ‘ozone layers’ and ‘cell stem harvesting’. The ancient ones who had lived before knew all there was to know about the earth and its people. They knew all about where the people were going and where they came from. There were legends and stories. There were ancient manuscripts with many words. These became books with many pages. Books became one of the most important sources of learning for anyone who could read and write. Later books were harvested into the great data bases of the Internet. Every kind of document submitted was stored and kept for later retrieval. The World Wide Web became more important in everyday life across all strata of society than anything else. It was informative, simple and vastly complex. Every person on the planet had access to the network. The network became a wonderful platform for learning, it became the root to all evil.
Organised religion was no longer in evidence and belief systems had crashed. Those who still tried to maintain any moral code or structured principles by which to govern spiritual and emotional life went underground. The churches of the world stood empty or became the personal property of individuals rich and powerful, infamous and criminal. The strange phenomena was that although many buildings of the world deteriorated by and through the great war it was the churches,mosques and temples that remained intact. No one could satisfactorily explain why this was so. Everyone stopped trying but there were those who ‘knew’ but said nothing..for the time being. The earth had changed but one thing was still certain…churches,mosques and temples were a place of safe haven…vast and empty places of silent comings and silent goings.
The earth was divided into quadrants and there were only four. When the divisions came and the powers put the boundaries into place no one argued. There were no political uprisings or rebel fightings or groups who terrorised. It was as though entire nations became numb and utterly tired of trying to maintain rights, ethnaticity and constitutions. People became more silent than before and the men in power saw this as submission. But for some it wasn’t submission. It was a time to reassess. To regroup and to begin again. It was a time for the emergence of new hero’s. This is the story about 4 such hero’s who started life as endangered children. It is their history of how they stayed ahead of those who sought their lives because of their rare blood grouping and ethnaticity. It is the story of ‘the silent one’ who defended their lives with his own. It is the story of a broken shaman and a reluctant messiah. It is the story of a world struggling to survive the stupidity and greed of its politicians. It is the story of a medicine mans search for the origin of the Creator being spoken of in legends of old. It is the story of the dark one known as ‘The Collector’. This is….. The Story.
I look forward to the following of this Story….funny title…The Story.
I was OK for a while with the panic attacks but since the examination session of the 17th October and all that ensued after it, it has aroused from being dormant. Or perhaps it is that I received another SMS rearranging my life and teaching schedule. Or it could be that watching the TV reality show Survivor affects me more deeply than I care to admit…all the manoeuvring. Whatever triggered this…it was a long and restless night and now its going to be a morning of trying to find a gas station with ‘super’ petrol (fuel).
This is precisely how it is with some students….never be too understanding or too kind….there is always one who will abuse the kindness to the extreme and render a teacher vulnerable and ultimately weak. What a terrible price to pay for being humane. I am not at a happy place today because of these issues.
I would have wanted to continue where I left off in May of this year with my blog but what a mission to reconnect with the blog……I guess what is done is done and perhaps it is better to start new pages.
These past few months since May of this year have been uneventful to the extreme!!! No great achievements anywhere except perhaps through my one student who has been unbelievably rewarding. Her ability to impart techniques and disciplines that I give her is a balm to my frustrated soul. But I must not allow myself to become too grateful or euphoric….she is only passing this way onto bigger things. I am only the one who points the way. And she will achieve bigger things. My four little students who do drama and art as well as dance…they too are a great joy to my soul. But they have much growing still and one always has to move cautiously in the tuitive process…one should never overwhelm.
This week prior to the Dance exams I walk on eggshells…endure all, say nothing and be controlled to the extreme.
Extreme I believe is the key word…endless endurance and persuasion from my part as the teacher while little dancers throw their dolls out of the pram to coin a popular South African phrase.
She is the one motivator who keeps me going, who evokes my conscience when I make decisions…she is my entire life and if it were possible and I know it is….she keeps me going every day. She understands my mood and my anxieties and she has the patience of an ancient Buddha…watching and waiting over me.