“’Cher, secondary school is so
stressful. So much homework. Every little thing also fail. Come home from
school, spend 10 minutes in the shower, eat a quick meal then I rush down for
another class.”
That was the first time I’d heard
her genuinely complain about studying in my class. I didn’t think much of it. I
gently chided her and taught her some time management skills. That was the
first of many complaints to come from her, each getting more serious.
“’Cher, I’m very tired. Can let me sleep for a
while? Can don’t give homework?”
I agreed to not giving her any
assignments but I wasn’t able to let her take a nap lest I risk the tuition
centre being questioned on its credibility and professionalism. I compromised
on a 15 minute video break, chocolates and soda.
“’Cher, what’s the point of all
this studying? What’s the point of anything?”
I paused the lesson and shared
with the class about my personal history and my previous struggle with chronic
depression. A solemn and contemplative silence had filled the classroom.
However, she didn’t look convinced. I left it as that but kept it in mind.
“’Cher, I think no need to study
anymore. Die also easier. No need to stress over my results and get nagged at
by my parents every time.”
I pulled her aside, counselled her
and discreetly informed the principal. The principal spoke to her and things
calmed down for a few weeks. One day, all the classrooms on the ground floor
were being used. My class was brought up to be conducted on the second floor.
She eyed the glass window and sat at the back of the class.
Class went on as per normal. I
gave my class their practice for the day and settled down to mark some essays.
Just then, I heard someone fiddling with the lock of the window. Looking up, I
saw her standing in front of the window. She looked at me and asked.
“’Cher, jump down from the second
floor can die or not?”
I ended the class early that day,
told her to go home and rest, and to approach me when she was ready to talk
about what was bothering her. She took me up on the offer and she’s been
learning to cope with whatever she’s facing ever since.
This is not the first time I’ve
encountered this, and unfortunately, will probably not be the last time in a
long while. I’ve had so many students approach me, break down and cry, talking
about how stressful school life is and how their families are unsupportive.
Rather than be offered comfort and encouragement, most of them have parents who
either nag incessantly, punish them for not being the top few in class or
simply tell them to “suck it up.”
These are not isolated cases.
Fortunately for this particular
student, she was enrolled into a centre that was concerned with the welfare of
the students rather than simply focusing on getting attendance and earning as
much money as possible. I was given a measure of freedom and empowered to
conduct lessons the way I wanted or needed to. This enabled me to develop a
bond with my student as a mentor and friend, and for her to dare to open up.
The only condition was to maintain complete transparency with the centre to
ensure a professional relationship was kept.
However, this is not always a
luxury my other students or I can afford. I’ve seen a parent quite literally
call her son “a useless lazy piece of s**t” every week whenever I came by to
give private tuition. When I called her out on it, she said that it was none of
my business and that I was only paid to ensure that her son would score an A1
for English. She then proceeded to threaten to fire me if I interfered once
more. Another one told me that he didn’t care if his child understood the
English language and how it was to be used. All he cared was that I ensured his
child memorised the answers to score an A. I’ve had yet another student that
was banned from all forms of media or hanging out with friends in order to
“mug” for English.
These are, perhaps, extreme and
isolated cases. Nonetheless, instances of this have occurred in varying
degrees, usually in the form of parents brushing off their child’s behaviour
when I provide feedback, or threatening to pull their child from the class.
Have we become so obsessed with
the pursuit of being Number One that we have forsaken the needs of our children
to be nurtured; to be loved; to be valued?
Have we become so focused on
winning that we have forgotten that there is so much more to life and living
than just scoring that A?
Have we so lost faith in our
children that we would rather force them to memorise a set of formulas, for the
sake of getting through the exams, than to encourage them to dare; to dream; to
explore; to learn and understand?
Perhaps it is time to re-examine
how we have been approaching education and how we have been speaking and acting
towards our children. Perhaps it is time to start recognising and acknowledge
that it’s okay to make mistakes – which these are all part and parcel of the
learning process. Perhaps it’s time to revisit and evaluate our values.
Now my question is this: What
will you do?
