Lessons in love…
I have very few memories about school that are good… And even less memories of good teachers. The school was totally impersonal and the teachers even more so. It was pretty clear to me, then, that when I became a teacher that I would strive to NOT be like most of the teachers that had taught me.
I had also come into teaching after a career in the Airforce and as a parent… so my outlook on life was a lot different. I wasn’t trying to prove myself to anyone. I went out to be different.
I think a lot of the problems in modern society would be solved if more teachers worried less about the lesson and more about the love. I tried to treat every child in my class, in my hostel or in any team I coached as if they were my own child. I always tried to love them unconditionally and refused to ever write a child off. As I saw it, they had been entrusted into my care and I therefore had a responsibility to shower them with as much love and respect as I could.
As a teacher it is very easy to convey a message of love for one of your pupils through a gesture, the tone of your voice or your attitude. It’s not so easy for a child… Especially a teenage boy. No boy would dare go up to a teacher and hug them, let alone tell them they love them.
For two years running Zipho was the captain of the school’s first team cricket and I was the coach before we parted ways, each to a new school. he was an exceptionally gifted cricket player and had played at provincial level since the age of 9. he was destined for greatness.
I think we kid ourselves, as teachers, when we try to define our feelings for those in our care as “compassion” or “care”. It’s love – plain and simple. I loved Zipho. For the way he would question my judgement, forceful yet always with the utmost respect – eyes turned down. I loved Zipho for the way he would turn to face me with a grin full of teeth when he knew he had done something that would please me.
I missed having him around.
I crossed paths with Zipho two years later. This time as rivals, me as the coach for one team and Zipho as the star batsman of the other. The team I was coaching had put up a pretty meagre score but redeemed themselves with some good bowling and fielding. The game was tight, but Zipho was still batting. He was all that stood between us and victory. Zipho was capable of hitting any ball for a boundary, but on the last ball of the innings, short of two runs for victory, he blocked the ball.
Zipho walked off the field with his head held high. I walked up to the boy who I knew so well and told him that I knew he had thrown the game… Zipho grinned at me and winked.
Zipho died five months later of a drug overdose.
I still miss having him around.
What a sad story. Beautifully written. Thank you for sharing.
I had goose bumps reading this!!!
As one of your former students – I’d like to say thank you!!!! I don’t think teachers, or even people are always aware of the profound impact they have on other people’s lives.
I believe you were always more of a friend to your students than you were a teacher. Having said that though – it didn’t change the way you taught us!!! When I think back to my school days I remember very few lessons in vivid detail. Your classes stand out amongst others.
I can remember sitting in your class like it was yesterday!!! The class in the corner on the right of the block – aviation pictures on the back wall. Fighter jets, the F16 & Hornets I think sticks out the most!!! I sat at the window right in the front, often kicked your desk by accident because I couldn’t (and still don’t) sit still. That was 7 years ago!!!
Teachers do affect our lives – and sometimes it is the helping hand we need to move forward, long after we finish school!!! Thanks for sharing the experience of your life. I have come to understand, through my own life, that no matter how painful my past experiences may have been, they were necessary! They gave me the knowledge I needed to help others when they asked it of me now.