Children

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In my 'A' Level Literature text Waterland, the first line of the second chapter went like this:

"Children. Children, who will inherit the world."

As I get older and gain more experiences in the world, this line seems to grow as well - heavier and heavier in its gravity. Of course I wouldn't have understood its significance way before - I was snugly sandwiched in the middle of this group called 'children', living in the moment with eyes set on my very own dreams and prospects. Yet as I near the end of this tunnel, innocence, ignorance, complacency and all the other rose-coloured features of childhood diminish and tear away, revealing a harsh and frightening landscape - one we wouldn't have been able to survive in before.

Our places as the protected ones were taken over by succeeding generations of children, and this cycle would probably repeat till the end of time, till the birth of the last child on Earth.

We repeatedly hear about the necessity of raising children as the hope of the future, such that we might've become numb to the consequences of underestimating it.

I currently tutor four children privately with ages ranging from 10 - 16. I've taught them for about almost half a year now and so far lessons have been satisfactory since my students are quite sensible and hardworking to varying extents. At times, I rack my brains for effective ways to help them learn and worry about whether they truly understand what I'm teaching them - but I'm continually encouraged by the effort they put in and small improvements they make in tests. I felt I was doing a decent job in teaching these children, but I never considered how much impact I might have on these children - the children who would inherit the world soon - until this afternoon.

A neighbour of mine living a few floors above my apartment in the same block came to my door about a week ago and asked if I could help tutor her son who was in Primary 1. I was initially reluctant, since having to juggle four tuition sessions (about 2 hours each), school and Bible discussions with the Navigators every week sometimes took their toll on me. However, after she explained her difficult situation, I decided to help. My neighbour's young son was doing badly in school since he had difficulty catching up with the rest, and the school had informed my neighbour that he might have to repeat a year if he did badly for the upcoming examinations. Being a single mother who has to work to raise her son, she couldn't find an affordable tuition centre or tutor. I agreed to tutor her son at a low rate, and we had our first lesson today.

I had prepared a few ways I would employ to help the boy learn before the lesson started, just in case we encountered any difficulties such as shyness, lack of motivation or language proficiency problems. I was looking forward to having a fruitful lesson with him. Yet, I felt my resolve crumbling as the lesson progressed with bouts of silence as he refused to voice his thoughts, or simply looked blankly at his work. No matter how I tried to encourage him or explain to him he would just remain largely unresponsive. As I talked with his mother after the lesson, I tried to understand how he's like at home. I was pained to learn how his environment was filled with so much uncertainty, and understood a little more about his behaviour during the lesson. 

I had a talk with my mother after she returned home from work an hour after my neighbour and her son left, and when I was talking about the lesson, I broke down uncontrollably. At first, Mom was worried that I was stressed out over how to teach the boy, and suggested solutions - from ways I could try to teach, to considering dropping the boy. She also gave me more backstory about him that she knew from interacting with his grandmother who lives with them. The more I heard, the more awful I felt. 

I wasn't troubled over my failure to teach the boy today. My mind was suddenly flooded with a chaotic tangle of thoughts. I wanted to help the boy - I couldn't possibly feel at ease dropping him for my own convenience knowing that I could do something. I wanted to help him have a shot at life like his peers, but how much can I do to have him gain that shot? I don't have full control over how he would live his life that's full of the uncertainty that is gripping him. I was at a loss when I saw the gaping holes between my abilities, the imperfect situation in reality and my desires. Later on in the evening, his mother sent me a message thanking me, saying that her son liked me, but didn't want to have tuition. I must've overwhelmed the poor boy. Admittedly, I feel a little relieved that the responsibility has been taken away from me on their decision, but I'm deeply struck by this experience.

I saw how great the gravity of raising a child was. 

How a child is not only born once from his mother's womb, but multiple times from his surroundings over and over again, until he becomes the person he is. Generations of children - the living experiments of their predecessors and circumstances. A child - the child of one who was a child; an experiment, the experiment of another. While we emerge from childhood into the world, we pull the children behind us in the same direction like a continuous train. 

I might've underestimated my role as an educator in the lives of the children I teach. They may forget my lessons and the words I said to them in years to come, but the impact of my existence in their lives would be moulded together with many others, shaping the people they would become in future.

Children. Children, who will inherit the world.