Over two decades later, I was back to school.
I recall clearly that day when I handed in my last final thinking to myself: that’s it, my last exam. I wanted to pat my shoulder to congratulate myself for a job well done in persevering to the end for the past 19 years of schooling days. Like my fellow comrades, I fought a good fight, kept the course and now waited for that well deserving trophy – the last diploma. I remember too promising to myself as worthwhile or meaningful as it had been, I had had enough of schools and that would be true end of an era.
Windows 7 broke that promise. With the computer world evolving continually, we the IT support face the reality of keeping up with the changes. The company then decided to send us all to school for a whole week. Incidentally my sign-up week fell on the time just when most schools started. So here I came, backpack and lunch bag packed, marching along with the student crowd for the same mission, much more in age and apprehension and unfortunately less in joy and hope.
What do students expect of the first day of school besides new outfit and gear? From a world of different time and space, it hardly ever revolved around new shoes or clothes – uniforms took care of that and school supply was merely new pencils and erasers since the rest was provided by school. On that same road back to school after a 2-month summer vacation was a child with a book bag nearly empty yet a heart filled with much anxiety: Would I make new friends? Would they like me? Could I finally make it to the “good students” list so my teacher would love me as they loved my sister? Many, many years later, there I was again, standing in front of that classroom – still the same child within and yet so different in many ways: instead of walking, I had driven my cross-over utility to school; instead of growing my hair is now thinning and brain shrinking; instead of many ambitions and resolutions for a better me, my head stirring with only one question: how do I survive this week without looking like a fool?
My classmates of the week may be from different groups but were of the same floor, so there were no strangers to deal with. Our “teacher” was but a well-paid outsider who cared no grades or disciplines thus no one to seek approval from. Yet, I still intuitively sat myself at the far end aisle seat next to door for easy, necessary escape. My survival instinct was miscalculated when another coworker took his seat right next to me seconds later. He was not at all in the category of “strangers” since we had had our occasional “dealings” back at the office in our IM sessions and chocolates tossing across the partition between our cubicles. This unfortunate mishap actually cost not only my safety but also my sanity for the whole week as my “no-stranger” neighbor dutifully performed his daily instigator and tormentor role. Instead of hiding behind the enemy line, I was tossed out mercilessly in the war zone with him pushing the button and I yelped and cussed despite all effort. All eyes or heads would turn at me with frown and disapproval while I sat mouth wide opened and defenseless. Gone was all well designed safeguard, gone was productivity and gone was, most sadly, propriety. In short, I successfully committed the exact crime I had feared most: becoming a fool.
A week has passed since the school day revisit. As much as I would like to pin it on my enemy, I am well aware that I couldn’t help being baited like a silly 8-year-old. I had anticipated everything in that classroom – everything except teasing, as harmless as it was, something that the younger me had known a thing or two about and the older and wiser me taught my own children of. All that experience and wisdom rendered useless in a setting of reality. Do we ever change over time and space? Across the Pacific Ocean and another continent with many, MANY years of wisdom and experience acquired, I went back in that classroom as helpless as I had been on the very first day of school. I think of my other “classmates” there, many of whom I knew little of except crossing path at the office, still I am sure they too had reversed to be their younger selves in that classroom: some reserved, some dutiful and focused and some teasers or bullies as they had been since day one. The truth is: they never left the classroom.
So how was training? Some asked. I smiled with my usual wise answer: “Best thing was the last day: we had 3 dozens of donuts and 1 batch of chocolate cookies”, when the real revelation in fact was: Forget Windows 7, forget pens and pencils, but don’t forget the bullies.
I recall clearly that day when I handed in my last final thinking to myself: that’s it, my last exam. I wanted to pat my shoulder to congratulate myself for a job well done in persevering to the end for the past 19 years of schooling days. Like my fellow comrades, I fought a good fight, kept the course and now waited for that well deserving trophy – the last diploma. I remember too promising to myself as worthwhile or meaningful as it had been, I had had enough of schools and that would be true end of an era.
Windows 7 broke that promise. With the computer world evolving continually, we the IT support face the reality of keeping up with the changes. The company then decided to send us all to school for a whole week. Incidentally my sign-up week fell on the time just when most schools started. So here I came, backpack and lunch bag packed, marching along with the student crowd for the same mission, much more in age and apprehension and unfortunately less in joy and hope.
What do students expect of the first day of school besides new outfit and gear? From a world of different time and space, it hardly ever revolved around new shoes or clothes – uniforms took care of that and school supply was merely new pencils and erasers since the rest was provided by school. On that same road back to school after a 2-month summer vacation was a child with a book bag nearly empty yet a heart filled with much anxiety: Would I make new friends? Would they like me? Could I finally make it to the “good students” list so my teacher would love me as they loved my sister? Many, many years later, there I was again, standing in front of that classroom – still the same child within and yet so different in many ways: instead of walking, I had driven my cross-over utility to school; instead of growing my hair is now thinning and brain shrinking; instead of many ambitions and resolutions for a better me, my head stirring with only one question: how do I survive this week without looking like a fool?
My classmates of the week may be from different groups but were of the same floor, so there were no strangers to deal with. Our “teacher” was but a well-paid outsider who cared no grades or disciplines thus no one to seek approval from. Yet, I still intuitively sat myself at the far end aisle seat next to door for easy, necessary escape. My survival instinct was miscalculated when another coworker took his seat right next to me seconds later. He was not at all in the category of “strangers” since we had had our occasional “dealings” back at the office in our IM sessions and chocolates tossing across the partition between our cubicles. This unfortunate mishap actually cost not only my safety but also my sanity for the whole week as my “no-stranger” neighbor dutifully performed his daily instigator and tormentor role. Instead of hiding behind the enemy line, I was tossed out mercilessly in the war zone with him pushing the button and I yelped and cussed despite all effort. All eyes or heads would turn at me with frown and disapproval while I sat mouth wide opened and defenseless. Gone was all well designed safeguard, gone was productivity and gone was, most sadly, propriety. In short, I successfully committed the exact crime I had feared most: becoming a fool.
A week has passed since the school day revisit. As much as I would like to pin it on my enemy, I am well aware that I couldn’t help being baited like a silly 8-year-old. I had anticipated everything in that classroom – everything except teasing, as harmless as it was, something that the younger me had known a thing or two about and the older and wiser me taught my own children of. All that experience and wisdom rendered useless in a setting of reality. Do we ever change over time and space? Across the Pacific Ocean and another continent with many, MANY years of wisdom and experience acquired, I went back in that classroom as helpless as I had been on the very first day of school. I think of my other “classmates” there, many of whom I knew little of except crossing path at the office, still I am sure they too had reversed to be their younger selves in that classroom: some reserved, some dutiful and focused and some teasers or bullies as they had been since day one. The truth is: they never left the classroom.
So how was training? Some asked. I smiled with my usual wise answer: “Best thing was the last day: we had 3 dozens of donuts and 1 batch of chocolate cookies”, when the real revelation in fact was: Forget Windows 7, forget pens and pencils, but don’t forget the bullies.
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