WHEN THE FRETTING AND FUMING ENDS



Expectations are like fine pottery.

The harder you hold them,

the more likely they are to crack.”

Brandon Sanderson

 

My first batch, today, was to start at 8 am… I was the first one to arrive, that’s at 7.50. A couple of them arrived between 8.10 and 8.15… A couple of them joined online, late though… A couple of them didn’t show up at all… and, none of them had done the homework…

The irritation was building within me… The questions were incessantly popping up from the hot furnace: “In a few days, these young kids will be ending their year: What is my contribution to their growth and education? Will it be the marks they are going to score, or will it be some subtle intangible things – like, being more self-responsible, more sensitive towards others’ feelings, towards difficulties of their parents… being punctual, committed and thankful?”

I found myself letting my steam, like it did from a hot furnace…



I may spend my lifetime trying to teach a cat how to bark… but, in the end, the cat will only look at me and sing, ‘meon’… This is how Byron Kattie describes what ‘reality’ is. “Honey, don’t argue with the reality,” she gently reminds, “Love what ‘Is’.”

At the end of all my fretting and fuming, I only realized, that I was arguing with the reality…

Life teaches us to keep our expectations to the lowest, if not ‘zero’. Frankly, not keeping expectations at all has not been possible for me, at all. I have felt disappointed, let down, irritated, angry – but, at the end of it all, I have only started licking my own wounds, the way a cat or a dog would do…

And, that has been my own education – the ‘teacher’s education!

The year is over… The students have gone, or are going, after learning for an entire year. Some of them, after learning for a couple of years… Do I silently expect a heartfelt ‘thank-you’ from them or their parents?

Yes, I do…

But, by keeping those expectations, do I suffer?

Yes, I do…

I am a teacher… I haven’t taught my students only to score high marks in their exams… I have taught them to become better human beings…

Is it too much to expect from them?          

I don’t know…

A sincere ‘Thank-you’ doesn’t come to most humans. But, then, as it is said, “In life, if we said only ‘Thank-you’, we do not have to say any other prayer.”

I go even further and say: “We don’t need any other education in life.”

I know, when I keep expectations from others, I make myself vulnerable…

It’s okay… Love calls for opening my heart, making it vulnerable…

Shoba, who recently turned 60, had studied under me over four decades ago. She went on to become extremely successful in the globetrotting world. In the end, she decided to spend her time quietly helping underprivileged kids for an NGO by the name ‘Under the Tree’. Last afternoon, Shoba posted a touching tribute to her teacher (me) on her LinkedIn account…


https://www.linkedin.com/posts/shobakrishnan


(Shoba (left) and her co-volunteer (right) in one of their sessions at 'Under the Tree')


Did I feel happy and validated?

Oh, yes, yes…

Was I expecting her to do it?

Never…

Did I share that tribute piece on my home group (my wife, son and me in it)?

Yes, I did…

Was there a response – a kind of validation or cheer, or something like that?

No.

Was I expecting it when I shared it on our ‘Home group’?

Of course, I was.

So, what did I do -  Forced them to validate, say ‘Bravo’?

“Ghar ki murgi daal barabar ji” … I taunted, instead, this morning…

“Beautiful tribute; thank-you dad for sharing. Grateful,” my son wrote quickly.

“The hardest validation comes from the nearest,” I kind of grumbled, “quoting Jesus: ‘A prophet is never recognized in his own town’.”

“Required, to maintain the balance!” My son sealed it with a laughing emoji…




Meanwhile, I still wonder: Was Jesus, my Master, complaining when He said that?

I am, after all, a man with my clay feet, unlike my Master… I am learning, the hard way, to do this pottery work as gently as possible, lest it cracks…

 

GERALD D’CUNHA

Pic’s: Pixabay

Video: Eddie Pinero

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