Reminiscence

Ahh, but aren't almost all my blog entries somewhat reminiscent...?

I'm reminiscing on my favorite Maths teacher in particular at this very moment, which is a result of revisiting a poetry site that used to be my regular haunt a few years ago every time I got my hands on the parent- and siblingless PC+internet, which wasn't often. Those were the days when I would retype my heart's deepest sensations (aches, mostly), holding back emotions and trying to clack the letters on the keyboard as silently as possible, for fear of the others finding me there, darkly inner-cursing my lack of 1nt3rnetz freedom. And yet I miss those days, and could probably credit the strictness for my satisfying reports from school. I would give anything to time warp to that moment in time- 2004/2005, to be exact, although that span of time was like the pinnacle of my Dork Years. There I was, trying to say I was a non-conformist by not labelling myself anything, since technically even others believe I didn't actually conform to any high school standards but there you have it- four/five years in the future and I'm labelling myself a dork... Which is actually true, considering my MMORPG addiction and my not-so-boyfriendy ex. But those were fun times and I had an okay weight/figure, at least. Not to mention I was still living in the same roof as the rest of my family, though I do recall wanting to run away from them more times than I could count when it's the Family Drama Week.

Anyways, about the site... The motto I had in my profile for months, possibly years, was an almost entirely accurate advice given to me by my favorite math teacher back in my favorite high school. She's a brilliant math teacher (quite possibly with an IQ of at least 145), not to mention graceful, beautiful, effective and helpful, particularly when you give her the respect she deserves. She's known to be the strictest and scariest teacher in school, but I don't blame her- a teacher that good should demand more respect from her students. Fact is, to this day I have NO idea what she was doing teaching in our school- she belongs in a more intellectual place, an institute of higher education where the brilliant students would appreciate her for the gem that she is. Yes, I worship her for the brilliance she exuded in all those years she taught me, and I wish the other students could appreciate her at least half as much as I did. One would understand if one went to one of her classes with an open mind ready to learn. She possesses the depth and skills that could pinpoint a certain person's true weakness in a subject, and has acquired an unbelievable way of making you fathom the unfathomable. Plus, she seems to be able to mind read- I wouldn't be surprised if she was a psychic in that aspect.

Which is where I come into the main part between all this waffle- the advice. She knows how much of a pushover I am and probably used that to the maximum advantage, all with an undoubtedly good cause- I refuse to partake in any mathematical events even though others insist that I was more than able to. I refuse to do ANYTHING that I thought would jeopardize my already low and continuously deteriorating self-confidence value, and she despised the fact that I hated her subject so much, time and time again reminding me how much better I would be if I put in even half as much more effort in Mathematics in general. Which of course, I didn't do. Numbers and equations make me dizzy. Then the mathematical contests came and she pushed me to enter each available contest, which I aced- for my school standards anyway. This went on a couple of times until I left school. On one of my visits back to school she stepped out of the class she was teaching and advised me to grab any opportunity I see and try not to merely see the potential failure that opportunity could bring- merely to grab it and do my best. I nodded my agreement with her statement, hugged her and she resumed teaching. Then I left school- and that was almost two years ago. I used her words as my poety site profile motto straightaway.

For a time I considered her words almost as if they were a good luck charm- words that made every opportunity available, and made my attempts upon them almost invincible. Many obstacles and diversions later, her words were lost to the large, powerful waves of Time (due to my lack of visits to the poetry site, obviously) and I felt as if I had lost it all- the confidence of my teachers, other adults, and the confidence I had in me. Opportunities were slippery eels in murky water a thousand leagues down- needless to say, I never resisted the temptation to just turn my head away from any that I see if it doesn't concern directly satisfying people around me. I DID say I was a pushover.

And while searching/evading the ever-elusive, I found her words again, read them, smiled, and deleted them from the page, wishing she was here with me to tell me off in front of the class for my lack of effort right now. A torrent of sadness engulfed my mind as I struggled not to reach for my cellphone and dial numbers that I do know, without a doubt, would make me feel better and sad at the same time.

So here's to the best Mathematics teacher a high school student could ever have- may she live a life full of meaning and happiness, and eventually rest in peace for all her hard work, dedication and inspiration.