Navigating Challenges with Students

Per-nal

Zerayn D.

The melancholy of Monday has hit me; so sleepy and still feeling the fatigue of the weekends. I sat down that morning to start my work. I waited for all students to arrive. Soon, I would walk them to the computer room for their computer class. Eventually, students arrived one by one, and I delivered them to their room. I passed by other colleagues beginning the morning routine. I gave them a wave and went on. I also saw teachers who just clocked in. They rushed to their doors to avoid getting caught by the deputy headmaster doing morning checks. Smaller kids, though how much they walk fast, still seem so far away to their classroom doors. In a far distance, teacher assistance are shadowing to assist these little kids. The first period went on, while I spent the first hours reading through the day’s lesson plan and preparing materials.

I heard the bell rang, the morning went on like a glance. Then it was lunch time, I enjoyed a warm cup of an energy vanilla drink. We chattered the afternoon away with my students. Playing over word and number problems, the class was over.

Before I left the classroom, I made sure all students picked up their materials. I checked once more, it seems clean enough to leave. I locked the door while students cram in the hallway to transition to their next class. Suddenly, I spotted her in the corner of her students’ lockers. She was standing oddly, and constantly tapping at her phone, but obviously no notifications . Her gaze was beyond the hallway. She was not looking at the students. She was not waiting for another faculty. She was not looking for a wall clock. Her bright face this morning, defaced by her gloom in the afternoon.

I subtly approached her. As she looked towards me, a drop of blood from the edge of her right eye caught my sight. Her eyelids are like basin waiting to be filled, as it holds the blood drops slowly growing.

She muttered in anxious voice, “This…”, showing her right arm with bite marks.
“He did it, that boy”, her voice is quavering. And the blood from her eyes keep flowing slowly building on her eyelids as she tries to narrate her story. The blood is creeping in the base of her eyeballs. It turns into tears. This prevents her from opening them and stops her from finishing her piece.

“Enta agkape” (Let’s have a cup coffee…)