Ryan

On my way to the back gate at dismissal, I am greeted by 5 year old Ryan who blurts out “you know what? You were right! You were right this morning at assembly when you said that we just had to dream something and if we dreamt it hard enough, it would happen. That morning, at assembly, I had quoted Jules Verne's words “anything one man can imagine, other men can make real”. A bit surprised at Ryan unabated enthusiasm…(let’s not forget here, it was the end of a school day when the enthusiasm meter usually runs low, at least mine does), and before I could say pray tell, Ryan, what on earth are you talking about? Ryan proceeded to explain to me in minute detail the incident that happened that day that proved this morning’s words of wisdom true. Without going into the many colourful exclamations festooning young Ryan’s account, permit me for the sake of brevity to summarize the event in this way: Ryan is playing soccer at recess; Ryan kicks ball into net, net being guarded by Samsu, grade 9 students who, according to Ryan and all of his fellow kindergarten buddies, is nothing less than the best soccer player in the whole world, and, despite the fact that the net is tended by the best goal keeper this side of the moon, the ball goes in; Ryan scores.

So, pray tell again Ryan, what does this have to do with what I said this morning? And again, I did not have to ask that question, Ryan proceeded to tell me all, in his 5 year old relentless enthusiasm, that, at the very moment he kicked the ball, he had closed his eyes and imagined the ball going through Samsu. Well, there you have it. Samsu, a mere grade 9 mortal, did not have a chance against the law of attraction and the power of the mind, or what I like to call the science of creative visualization (not really a science but it does sound good and this is my blog and I can call it whatever I want).  When I was a kid, the nuns at school used to call these unexplainable events ‘miracles’; I call them creative visualization.

Well Ryan, first of all congrats are in order for scoring against the all mighty Samsu today. However, little do you know that you did much more today than score a goal against all odds. Your intervention that afternoon was the starter fuel that I needed to get me out of the downs (see previous posting) that I’ve been wobbling in lately. Needless to say, I was touched by the fact that you came up to me and told me that my words of wisdom rang true to you. Your enthusiastic interpolation was one of those not so rare moments in teachers’ lives that make us realize that we do have an impact on the young minds that are entrusted to us, and that on most days when we are at school, kids do listen to us, and do think that what we say to them is true. Your intervention at the end of the day brought a lot of things in perspective for me. I needed that at this time of adjustment and re/dislocation when I look at my immediate future and question what I am to do here, why I am here, and for what purpose am I here.

Our short tête-à-tête after school got me thinking about this thing called ‘sense of purpose’. So what if the challenges ahead are not as impressive as they have been these last two years?  So what if I don’t end up digging another well in Africa. So what if going to buy bread at the corner store doesn’t end up with negotiating a bribe with the gendarme because I was walking on the wrong side of the street? So what if I don’t have to deal with guys who succeed in getting past the security guards and the office staff at school and land in my office, telling me that God has sent them to me because I will give them money to bring their dying mother home to die? I guess my post-Conakry days will not be rife with daily challenges that made life there…hmmm, unusual? Let’s just say that, during the span of these past two years, I would often end my day cocooned in the safety of my bed-netted bed, unable to sleep due to the adrenaline still racing inside of me fuelled by the often over the top events of the day, and I would think to myself…how did I manage that? Quite a rush! So I guess, without trying to sound too dramatic, my slump of the past two weeks could almost be defined as a very mild case of post-traumatic stress, without the trauma, combined with a touch of post-partum depression, without the birth.  

In any case, it took a 5 year old to snap me out of it. I do have a purpose here. And that purpose is you kid. Thanks little buddy.