One of the few moments when a teacher became a friend in my eyes was when my Form 4-5 English teacher recommended "The Charge of the Light Brigade" by Alfred Tennyson. I went back and quickly dug it out, read it, and fell in love with the poem. I'm not quite sure what happened next but I remember being very excited about it, and I'm not quite sure when, but I did discuss the elements of the poem with her, and I brought up other Tennyson's works like Crossing the Bar.
I think it was because she introduced me to that poem, I became a lot more open and honest with her. If you know me, you'd know I usually shy away from being too open with others, especially if they're older than me and not related in any way. But I actually started exchanging books and magazines with her, and I'd recommend books to her in my Journal (some sort of English work - mostly to encourage writing skills). She'd in turn respond by writing comments, recommending other works or making note of the books I raved about ("Sounds interesting, I would really love to have a look at it").
Another thing that just sealed this rather different relationship with her (in comparison with other teachers or adults) was when I mentioned something about having a crazy look in my eye in that Journal, and she said, "Yes, I've noticed that too." In my mind I find that rather amazing for two things: one, that she noticed, and two, that she didn't seem to mind. That level of acceptance of what I am doesn't come often, others may misunderstand it, or shun it, sometimes even over emphasize it, but she didn't do all those things. She didn't say "crazy is great!" because crazy doesn't mean great all the time; neither did she say "you better seek help" because crazy doesn't mean mental issues (though i may be getting there.) This particular crazy, is just me. Being me. There's nothing fantastic about it, it's nothing to brag about, but there isn't anything awful with it either.
Lately I've been getting responses from both sides of the spectrum: where some find me so fantastically wonderful (i wonder why) and others thinking I need some anti-psycho (or anti-depressant) pills. So this along with others who have known me that keep me grounded. I am me, I am changing for the better (i hope, it's a long process), that's it.
Erm. Actually my point was that I analysed the poem for my Literature assignment this sem. So we came full circle, sort of. I suppose the real full circle would be recommending it to students in the future.
I wonder why I wrote the rest of that paragraph above. Ah well, might as well keep it, i haven't been blogging for awhile.
Life has been busy, crazy, dizzy. Having a play next week as our Drama assignment and somehow I'm in charge. Why? I don't know. I know me, and I know leading isn't my strong point.
Well, I can't complain about being bored anymore. In many ways I love this lifestyle: so much work, so much to think about. Makes you feel alive and kicking. Like, REALLY kicking. In frustration, and anger sometimes. But kicking.
Though I'd really love to kick back and relax and watch Star Trek and Iron Man. and the Great Gatsby, I hear it's good. Is it?
I think this post is long enough so I'll stop.
Happy belated Teachers' Day. You've inspired me, obviously. Look where I am now. =]
i need to expand my mental lexicon. my vocabulary is so limited. shame.