Journal

These Things Could Kill Me

doctor
“black was a much better colour for doctors back in the day.”

Catharsis was one of the main reasons I’ve maintained a blog. In recent times, I’d stopped coming into this space to type down my thoughts and feelings, because to a certain degree, it seemed unbecoming for a professional to come into his personal space and air his disappointments, frustrations, indecision and insecurity.

Perhaps it started back when I had first become a communications consultant. When it comes to communications, even in the spirit of being transparent, one still has to show a posture of strength, control and confidence. So maybe I’m throwing my own advice out of the window when I have to renew a vigor in writing, by coming back to this space with a melancholic, and fidgety spirit.

I’m afraid of the education system failing you. I’m afraid of the educator failing you. But I’m certain that education will not fail you. The system and teacher are man-made, and as such.. are perfect constructs for being fallible. The ideal of education however, simply remains an ideal, and is perhaps in a higher order above man, perhaps in the realm of nature and universal truths. But I don’t think knowledge and wisdom will ever be detrimental to the being of man or the society which she serves.

Maybe it is in this ideal that I can find some comfort in my shortfalls. That I am tired, from trying to plan lessons for Wednesday and Thursday, trying to finish marking and keying in all the results of my students for the termly progress report for three different subjects by Thursday. The task seems insurmountable when I have more lesson preparation before the week ends, a spelling bee contest to plan by next week, one e-learning package to finalise and upload by this Thursday, and another by Friday. Staying on top of two events that will be happening in late March and early April, a camp to go for in the middle of March, as well as balance my remedial training with the army that takes me away every Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday for about 3 hours a time. Time that could have been spent at work.

Maybe there’s a slight tinge of guilt, because I could have forgone my social obligations for the past two weeks and been a bit more on top of things, but again, I placed too much confidence in my ability, and less caution to my weaknesses and trappings.

But if there is a sliver of hope, it is that if I survive this week, the next two weeks will be much quieter, and I can really plan for the next quarter that starts on the 21st of March. If my nerves breathe normal, and I suck it in till the end of the week, I could be a very happy person starting this weekend.

If these things don’t give me aneurysm first.

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