2004-04-22 11:58:31Quintina
The guts to break up
I walked as usual into the classroom, and this time with dizziness known as the heritage of a not-so-sound slumber from the previous night. They were also in their usual morning clamor, with their mouth busy sending words out and sending food (breakfast) in.
Somebody in the classroom tried to hush all the others by shouting a repressed voice: ”Stop talking!” Finishing all the trivial on the stage, I thought this is a good chance to start class following this thoughtful kindness, as I’ve revealed quite clearly about my disgust of their uncontrollable desire to talk last time we met.
“Thank you for saying that for me, though I don’t know who you are!” said I, with a not-quite-easy smile.
While this self-assumed humor does not receive any response, a sudden silence shrouded them. I indicate my new rule about penalizing boisterous individuals because “too much admonishment will make me hate you, and you me.”
Aware that the implement of the new principle might harm a slightly askew pleasant relationship between us, I still decided to face the truth. A newly pleasure, and would be far more sincere, will arrive if the truth is well presented. With this faith the guts to make a temporary break is aroused.
To tell the truth, I love them. They are indulged in this carefree boisterousness partly because of my encouragement, even though both parties might hold different interpretations of the contents of the encouragement. They would privately come forward and tell me “every cloud has a silver lining” after I told them some bad luck stories. And I told the stories only to have a warming and relaxing start for the subsequent drudgery textbooks lectures, and they don’t mean any bad luck to me at all. Just as every dish cooked needed a certain flavors to highlight the food, every story recounted (in a classroom) needed a certain tone to meet its interest. Whereas they often show their devotion to the stories and console me as a friend, I can only remain the politeness of being a teacher.
But what needs to be done needs to be done.
“A caught of talking in class”, I said flatly, if not sternly, “may result a subtraction of you grades.”
Somebody in the classroom tried to hush all the others by shouting a repressed voice: ”Stop talking!” Finishing all the trivial on the stage, I thought this is a good chance to start class following this thoughtful kindness, as I’ve revealed quite clearly about my disgust of their uncontrollable desire to talk last time we met.
“Thank you for saying that for me, though I don’t know who you are!” said I, with a not-quite-easy smile.
While this self-assumed humor does not receive any response, a sudden silence shrouded them. I indicate my new rule about penalizing boisterous individuals because “too much admonishment will make me hate you, and you me.”
Aware that the implement of the new principle might harm a slightly askew pleasant relationship between us, I still decided to face the truth. A newly pleasure, and would be far more sincere, will arrive if the truth is well presented. With this faith the guts to make a temporary break is aroused.
To tell the truth, I love them. They are indulged in this carefree boisterousness partly because of my encouragement, even though both parties might hold different interpretations of the contents of the encouragement. They would privately come forward and tell me “every cloud has a silver lining” after I told them some bad luck stories. And I told the stories only to have a warming and relaxing start for the subsequent drudgery textbooks lectures, and they don’t mean any bad luck to me at all. Just as every dish cooked needed a certain flavors to highlight the food, every story recounted (in a classroom) needed a certain tone to meet its interest. Whereas they often show their devotion to the stories and console me as a friend, I can only remain the politeness of being a teacher.
But what needs to be done needs to be done.
“A caught of talking in class”, I said flatly, if not sternly, “may result a subtraction of you grades.”