Exorcism

Writing is a form of exorcism. Since time remembered man has been inscription, annotating, and writing to dispel the demons within.

And it is no exception with me. It is perhaps an explanation to the infrequency of my writing of late as well ... I scribe only when the demons need exorcising.

Today is perhaps such a day - a day of an emotional whirligig, of tension, suspense, fear and apprehension. The day of reckoning for my kids was one for me as well. But this day has come and gone.

And in retrospect, I know I should have rejoiced with them all. I know I could have partook of the delusional positivism exuded by the Principal and almost everyone in the hall considering the marked improvement in most subjects and the unexpectedness of a cohort outperforming most teachers' expectations.

But I wasn't and I didn't. Pretence has never been my forte and I could not hide my disappointment ... And the kids could tell. They did well and I'm proud of every single one of the 23 - they did marvellously ... with 6 failures for GP notwithstanding ...

11 failures from 3 classes. I've topped the charts for producing the most number of failures. But is my disappointment in them or in myself? Is my disappointment uncalled for since I may merely be overreacting? I don't quite know ... not in this state of confusion.

I do not believe I'm disappointed in them; oddly, I'm really really happy with the results they've obtained. It's just that judgement seems to be placed on me as well. 11 failures in 3 classes, 6 from my own beloved class. What am I to feel really? I'm not too sure ... disappointment? elation? both?

It's odd ... It's their 'judgement' day. How is it so that it has also become mine?

ould I have done more? Was there more even to be done? Was there some way that I could have helped them? Was my best not good enough in helping them? Is it really about me? It shouldn't be ... But why do I feel like the failure here ...

I need to move away from this egocentric viewpoint. Yet I can't help but feel downtrodden. Am I so because I can't seem to share the joy and elation that pervaded the hall? Perhaps, from my egocentric microcosmic window I can only see the 'horror' of my 11 failures - in some remote way a reflection of my inabilities. Under the macrobial scope, everyone did well.

But it is always so ... the personal story gets lost amidst the inimical ocean. I was just perhaps not able to hide what I felt well earlier today.

What is the root of this dissatisfaction, this unsettled despondence? I know, by psychoanalysing myself, that the melancholy isn't merely the results - it's about the realisation that this may be the last time I would see some of them. And I am quite certain about it. I never saw some of my teachers ever again after I left school, regardless of how close they were then.

It is, as Geok Choo says, a time for them to outgrow. I perhaps understand most fully now what Betty meant when she described her own experiences - the feeling of being 'left behind'. I finally understand ...

Memory and Desire ... I understand what Eliot meant.