Inspiration

This week has been a source of inspiration to me.

As I've said in previous posts, I'm attempting to study daily for the GRE so I can take it in early September. For those of you who don't know, I'll be starting my second year of a teaching fellowship at a small prep school in the Greater Boston area, and I've decided that I'd like to get an Master in the Arts of Teaching (M.A.T.) so that I can continue in this fabulous line of work.

I have already taken the GRE; two years ago, the summer before my senior year of college. I spent a good amount of time studying, though not enough, and didn't do as well as I should have. I also abhor standardize tests. I do not take them well. I do not think they have any value whatsoever. They are simply a way for one company to make money (and cleverly done, I must say; make everyone think you have to take these stupid tests to be worth something, and oh yeah, you have to pay upwards from $150 to take them. kthanksbai). Anyone who knows me has heard me rail about the injustice of ETS. This week, however I had a revelation thanks to a new coworker and my grandfather.

Earlier this week, I went into Boston to meet with a new colleague over coffee (iced, since it's been sweltering lately). He is a new recipient of the same fellowship I have, so I felt it was my duty to meet with him and answer some questions. He is great and I think he'll have a great time teaching. We talked for an hour and a half about various things; the similarities between math and Latin, teaching methods, school drama. On my way home from that interview, I realized something: I'm not just taking the GRE because I have to. Well, I am, but my attitude about it is one of staunch opposition; I'm only taking it because I have to. Now, though, I suddenly understood that it isn't an obstacle on my way to grad school, it's a step. And since being a teacher is what I want to do, I need to do well on this test, I need to accomplish this task before moving on. I smiled as I drove home that day, filled with a Sense of Purpose I'd never really felt before, knowing that it all fit together and would, eventually, work out alright in the end.

My Sense of Purpose was strengthened by orders of magnitude yesterday when I found out that my grandfather, my mother's father who lives in Bangkok in the same house my mom grew up in, is dying. He had had an accident while we were all at the beach together; he'd tripped over a small step in his hotel room, fallen, and broken his leg. He did not recover well from the resulting surgery and is now basically on life support. My mother is flying back on Saturday to be with him and told me today, "They're basically keeping him alive until we [she and her sister, who lives in Atlanta] can get there."

This was an enormous shock to me and brought up a lot of emotions. I don't know my grandfather very well; the sheer fact that we live on opposite sides of the world made sure of that. I don't speak Thai, he doesn't speak much English. But he has been there throughout my life, a kind, old man who smiles at me and tries to speak to me in English. As much as I wish I could, I can't go with my mother to her father's funeral; none of my family can, because we all have things here that can't be neglected for three weeks. Life must go on.

How is this inspirational? My grandfather was a teacher. He moved to Bangkok from a small farming village in the north of Thailand to teach, and there he met his wife, my grandmother, who was also a teacher. Together they raised a family that happened to include my wonderful mother. Later he became the principle of his school and, by all accounts, was well loved by all who attended. When my mom told my grandfather that I had received this fellowship a year and a half ago, he was ecstatic. When we visited later that summer, he said, pointing to me, "You...teacher." And he smiled the biggest smile I had ever seen.

I cant' go to Thailand to honor my grandfather's life, so I will do what I can from here. I will work hard, do well on a test, and become a teacher.