At a crossroad ...

For the past two years, I have thrown myself into a pool of information. Every part of the journey to become an effective teacher has been insightful and educational. 

When I reflect on the journey, I realise just how much I have changed, and learnt and grown from the experience. Having come this far, I know that I can make a difference in my classroom and at the school where I teach. Sadly, I have exhausted myself in the process. There have been times where I have reached levels of mental satiety and I just couldn’t carry on. It made me reflect on my life as a teacher.

My life as a teacher has been one of great dedication. At every school I have ever taught, I sacrificed all my energy to be committed in my endeavours for the children. In November, I will be finalising this educational journey. I will be completing my last two exams and my research assignment, and then I will receive my Bachelor of Education (B.Ed) Honours degree in Teaching and Learning. So far I have passed five of the eight completed modules with distinction. I gave my best and I have achieved what I set out to do. 

As October approaches, I consider how I have spent my years in self-sacrificial workaholism. I’m turning 50 this year and more than ever the question lingers: Is this really what I plan to do for the next fifteen years until retirement? 

Surely there is more to life than working myself into a stupor? There’s joy and satisfaction in what I do, but at the expense of my family and my health. I’ve never travelled anywhere and holidays away from home are a luxury I cannot afford. So, I spend the school holidays preparing for the next term. Do I rest? No. Does it matter? It never did. 

Suddenly I find myself contemplating all the adventures of life on which I am missing out. I’m at a crossroad. 

Where to from here? 

An Ambiguous Journey

At the end of 2013, I embarked on an ambiguous journey of self-study: I was set to study my honours degree in General Teaching and Learning and in the process, I discovered more about myself and life in general.

Initially, I was engulfed with despondency because my personal view of studying at my “particular age” meant suffering. I could already see how Time and I would constantly be at each other’s throats. And I hate conflict.

I took the assignments in my stride. I gave each one my best and had very little concern about the results. I kept telling myself that at my “particular age” and with my efforts of putting my best teaching foot forward each day, there would be no pressure to achieve the ultimate. And so I was satisfied with each outcome. Except one. I remember getting 66% for one assignment and was totally gobsmacked. What was up with the double 6? But I built a bridge and got over it!

My first exam paper in decades was an epiphany. I realised studying had nothing to do with a “particular age”! The identity was clear: I was a student. I walked into the hall, late! I sat down trying to be as discreet in my movement as possible. But the table groaned and the chair creaked, and the supervisor who was reading out the rules suddenly kept quiet. I was the centre of attention. When I received my answer sheet, I had to fill in more details than I thought – at that point – were necessary. I didn’t know the name of the exam centre; I forgot my student number and couldn’t remember the date. My stunned brain cells and fixed eyes focused on the answer sheet, but nothing came to mind other than my name. The supervisor asked us to put down our pens. I hadn’t filled in a thing. Not even my name. The exam papers were handed out and we were told to read through them for ten minutes prior to starting. My only concern was that I hadn’t filled in my details.

I was a nervous wreck throughout that paper. I wrote slowly, neatly and deliberately. I stressed about the time. I couldn’t even see the clock in the front and had to stretch to the length of an ostrich-neck to see whether or not I was managing my time effectively. I feared someone would think I was craning to crib. The invigilators that passed me kept stopping to read what I had written. So it seemed. At the end of the session, when I handed in my paper, two of the invigilators complimented me on having such beautiful handwriting. I smiled feebly and walked out of the hall on jelly legs. Needless to say, the second exam session for the year was much better.

My first year has finally come to an end and I have passed all my subjects. During the school holiday, I managed to complete 4 of the 6 assignments that are due in March 2015. I’m on a roll, here. And the initial fear and nervousness has panned out into something more exhilarating. Soon, I’ll be done and then what? I turn 50 in October. What do I do when this roller-coaster ride stops?

What I’ve learned on this incredible journey is that we’re never too old to do something, especially learn. At first, it may seem to be an enormous sacrifice. After all, who wants to suffer the discomfort of stretching their mind to the point of no return? And that is exactly what it is. Once stretched, the mind cannot return to its original dimensions. Once you know something, you can never “not know it” again.

An educable mind keeps us growing. I think an idle mind may be the most dangerous one of all. If it doesn’t get us into trouble, it certainly gets us into trouble. Redundant? But effective! Is there a difference? Perhaps not – because there are no degrees of comparison: trouble is trouble. It just emphasizes the concern we should have for an idle mind. It certainly has more time to think. 

And what exactly does an idle mind think about if its horizons aren’t broadened?

My son

My son was born in Lichtenburg (North West) on the 27th of June, 1997. His name is Colin Steyn. He is my youngest child and I am so proud of him. 2015 is the year he completes his school career – Grade 12. And then he’ll be off to discover his calling.

Whilst pregnant, I used to talk, and read and sing to Colin – just as I had done with my daughter, Jana. When he was born, Jana wanted to hold him all the time. Colin was a peaceful and quiet baby. He was always smiling when awake. He slept a lot, even during his bath time. When I played music, he would fall asleep with a smile on his face. He had eyes for Jana only. He watched her intensely. Every move and sound she made fascinated him. With her help, we broadened his horizons and encouraged a diversity of interests.

He was about 18 months when he was stolen from my shopping trolley in Cape Town. My husband and I were comparing prices and were a few steps away from the trolley in which Colin was sitting. What made it easy for the man to take him was the fact that the trolley was at the start of the shopping aisle. Fortunately, Jana saw the whole incident and told us immediately. My husband ran to the nearest door. Whilst talking to one of the security men, the kidnapper approached the door with my son. Because Colin wasn’t crying, the security man decided not to do anything about it. He kept saying that my son knew the man because he wasn't crying. Since that day, I made Colin raise the roof with his screaming if a stranger just dared to come near him. To this day, I am grateful for Jana’s keen eye in preventing her brother from being kidnapped. It was one of the most traumatic experiences we have had.

Colin is amazing. He is a sensitive person who can read body language and facial expressions, picking up things that go unsaid. He is sensitive to tone of voice, attitudes, and emotions. While this may sound like soft traits, Colin has exceptional inner strength. He is a strong-willed person, motivated to endure many things to achieve his personal goals. 

Colin is a sociable boy with a keen interest in people. He is also very popular. He's not only clever with his thoughts and words but also has a great sense of humour. He’s warm-hearted, humble, and sincere.

I am still learning much about his personality. Because Colin is a teen, it’s difficult for me to always understand him. But this is what I know and truly appreciate about him: 

1. Colin isn’t easily deceived. As I’ve said, Colin interprets body language, facial expressions, tone of voice, attitudes, and emotions very quickly. He doesn’t like conflict or negativity. 
2. He is a people person. He doesn’t like being alone and is dependent on honest company and loyal friends. He doesn’t like the limelight, noise, or crowds. So, his groups are small and cozy. 
3. Colin tends to be shy. He’s humble and kindhearted. He’s loving, always ready with a hug. Most importantly, he's loyal!
4. Colin will be ruthless when he’s backed into a corner. He doesn’t like people judging him or making efforts to manipulate him into doing things he doesn’t like.  
5. Being a peace-loving person, he becomes overwhelmed when there is a lot of conflict and tension around him. But, Colin will not do anything that he doesn’t want to do. He’s not a people pleaser. He will stay true to himself. He will be tormented by any conflict that arises from situations where people expect him to do something he refuses to do. He’ll walk away and spend time in isolation rather than do anything he’s against. 
6. He sings in the school choir. 
7. Colin is a sport for fun. So, if you wake up on a Saturday and tell him to quickly get dressed for a road trip, he’ll be ready before you are. 
8. Colin has a great sense of humour and can really make you laugh.  
9. Even though he likes company, Colin recharges when he’s on his own. He doesn’t recharge in the company of others. So, alone time is important for him. 
10. Colin loves music. He sings and dances 90% of the time, always ready to share his latest hits with you.   
11. Colin plays rugby. It’s his passion. He doesn’t care for other types of sport. 
12. Colin is a homely boy. I know where he is most of the time because he is permanently camping out in the living room or bedroom with a "pack" of teenage boys, playing PS3 or Xbox 360.

Colin is my one and only precious son. I love him so much and I’m so grateful that he is a part of my life. My favourite time with him is when we drive to and from school. (He attends the school where I teach.) We can talk when we’re in the car. It’s the only time that I feel we can share our thoughts without being distracted. 2015 is going to be a difficult year because it is our last year together and I know I am going to miss him so much when he finishes school. My wish for him is the same as my wish for Jana: a life filled with rich blessings.