The Resignation
There was a force pulling me down to the office to pass the two-page sheets of my first step to independence. I walked out our own office and found on perfect timing my boss, or shall we say the closest boss in the organizational chart, my coordinator. A charming, packed with sense of humor, and understanding man, my coordinator, here be pronounced as Coor, met me in the corridor as I told him about my decision to resign. He led us to the library to confide.
There I told him everything, my aspirations, my history, and of course my decision to finally break a few more chains off parental controls.
He understood me, yet brought up the topic of the life after school. I completely had no idea, and he stressed that I ought to have a very certain job to fall into or else I will end up a bum---which I REALLY DON'T WANT TO BECOME AFTER GRADUATING (The sound of ka-ching! gives me tingles and being dependent to parents with that means falling once more into their decisions for me).
I'm so glad we had that talk, which was by the way a little cathartic considering I was suffering fresh from a wound in a relationship. I felt better knowing my Coor was concerned of my future, that he trusts my decisions and yet, tells me howhe wants me to stay for my OWN DAMN GOOD. But I could not be pulled back anymore, I was taking that step.
The conversation ended, I came out of the library and down the stairs as some students in the corridor carried some microscopes. There was a suspenseful music thundering in my head as I approached the Office where my paper shall lay.
I opened the door, gave the paper to the secretary, and watched as she read it. She suddenly looked up at me after browsing over the letter and she smiled--a smile which was not of approval, but of a question left hanging in the air. That certain air flew in the campus and was inhaled by the people surrounding me. After that day, I momentarily had to playback a recorded answer on my tongue for the interrogations which that air made them do repeatedly.
I will not mention anymore the reactions of some, but their reactions were somehow relieving to know I'm not alone. This afternoon, I had a conversation with our Mommy in the workplace, Mrs. C--who was by the way my favorite teacher from 3rd year high school until third year college because of her prowess in teaching math (I hate math but she made me LEARN math during that time). The same advices went on, a female version of my Coor. This time, I felt her love and care more, despite those dragon-like features. There's nothing like a mother in a workplace.
This afternoon, as I dismissed my kids, they asked me whether my plan of resignation is certain and I told them that I've already done the first step of it last week. Some cried, which was touching because I learned that they loved me. And there were even messages in my Facebook account referring to me and all about how I taught them to grow up and how I took care of them.
"Is it the attitude of the kids?" The teachers would ask me.
"No," I replied, "I actually love the students. They are the best part of my teaching."
To be continued... Not that I mean the profession, okay?
There I told him everything, my aspirations, my history, and of course my decision to finally break a few more chains off parental controls.
He understood me, yet brought up the topic of the life after school. I completely had no idea, and he stressed that I ought to have a very certain job to fall into or else I will end up a bum---which I REALLY DON'T WANT TO BECOME AFTER GRADUATING (The sound of ka-ching! gives me tingles and being dependent to parents with that means falling once more into their decisions for me).
I'm so glad we had that talk, which was by the way a little cathartic considering I was suffering fresh from a wound in a relationship. I felt better knowing my Coor was concerned of my future, that he trusts my decisions and yet, tells me howhe wants me to stay for my OWN DAMN GOOD. But I could not be pulled back anymore, I was taking that step.
The conversation ended, I came out of the library and down the stairs as some students in the corridor carried some microscopes. There was a suspenseful music thundering in my head as I approached the Office where my paper shall lay.
I opened the door, gave the paper to the secretary, and watched as she read it. She suddenly looked up at me after browsing over the letter and she smiled--a smile which was not of approval, but of a question left hanging in the air. That certain air flew in the campus and was inhaled by the people surrounding me. After that day, I momentarily had to playback a recorded answer on my tongue for the interrogations which that air made them do repeatedly.
I will not mention anymore the reactions of some, but their reactions were somehow relieving to know I'm not alone. This afternoon, I had a conversation with our Mommy in the workplace, Mrs. C--who was by the way my favorite teacher from 3rd year high school until third year college because of her prowess in teaching math (I hate math but she made me LEARN math during that time). The same advices went on, a female version of my Coor. This time, I felt her love and care more, despite those dragon-like features. There's nothing like a mother in a workplace.
This afternoon, as I dismissed my kids, they asked me whether my plan of resignation is certain and I told them that I've already done the first step of it last week. Some cried, which was touching because I learned that they loved me. And there were even messages in my Facebook account referring to me and all about how I taught them to grow up and how I took care of them.
"Is it the attitude of the kids?" The teachers would ask me.
"No," I replied, "I actually love the students. They are the best part of my teaching."
To be continued... Not that I mean the profession, okay?
