Last Day at St. Joseph's
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Farewell Lunch with other outgoing colleagues |
Realizing that I had gradually been losing my footing at St. Joseph's, I determined myself to apply for a transfer last September. Over the next two months, my life at school was a disaster. Due to increasing reports that I had not been doing my core business well, I was constantly chastised mercilessly by the principal. To add salt to the wound, my personal documentation was a mess and the principal always made me stay back after school to get things arranged properly. Sometimes, he did not allow me to enter my lessons unless everything met his requirements.
Many a time, I dreaded coming to school. It was beyond me why I had time and again fallen victim to rumors - he teach broken English(sic), he read novel in class(sic). Of course, I did my teaching dutifully, but certain quarters thought otherwise, and found great joy in casting aspersions on my ability. From time to time I had a burning urge to call their bluff but I always came short of courage at the last minute. Buying into what they said, the principal saw a dead wood in me, putting me in his bad books. Due to frustration-induced misjudgement, I stopped handing in my record book and alas, more accusations rained down upon me and I ended up becoming the victim of my own inaction.
When I learnt that my transfer had been approved, instead of feeling relieved, I found myself a prey to unreadiness. Earlier on, it had been my hope to leave the school in a dignified manner. But due to some unexpected turn of events, I seemed like making an ignominious exit through the transfer. Not an ounce of dignity could be salvaged.
On my last day at school, I tried to deliver the best speech of my teaching life during assembly, but there
was a lump in my throat, and I almost choked on it when I started to
speak. Suppressing the onslaught of tumultuous feelings, I thanked
everyone for having taught me a lot of things over the years, and with almost a crack in my voice, I assured them, particularly the students, that I would
keep all the memories in the deepest recesses of my heart. Pausing
awhile to catch my breath, I continued on with what I wanted to say, only
to find that my mind had succumbed to nerves, going blank all of a
sudden. Terrified, I kept struggling for the grasp of elusive words to
get my message across. The harder I tried, the more blurry and
disjointed my speech had become. The students broke into laughter, and I
could feel my cheeks burn feverishly. At last, after what seemed like
forever, I was able to rally all my faculties and rasped through the
rest of my speech with anything that came to mind. A cacophony of
cheers and applause burst forth everywhere and I walked down the stage
with great effort, hardly feeling the concrete under my feet.
Tomorrow, I will return to St. Joseph's and clear my 20 year-long clutter. Once packing is done, I will submit my 'Nota Serah Tugas' and bid farewell to the school. Will I be able to cope with these final moments?
Once, I told myself that no matter what happened, I would stay put at St. Joseph's until the day I retired. However, with all the odds against me, I have to eat my words and start afresh at a new school. With a heavy heart, I have told myself repeatedly that God may have better plans for me, but the ruptured heart of mine keeps telling me that the transfer has pronounced a death sentence to my love for St. Joseph's.
I can remember the day very well, when I was trying my best to pick up the school song and teach it to the students. I have always been proud of the fact that it has become part of me all these years, keeping me sane and reminding me to stay committed to my job with its motto - love and serve. It is sad to say that despite all my contributions and sacrifice, I have to say good bye to the school in a most disgraceful fashion.
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