The office

We were given 3 days to move out of the current office which the 8 of us share, and we'll be scattered in 3 different offices.

It's no big deal I guess, especially since there's already been talk about us moving. But it's true that this has been my second home for more than 2 years, not because I spend so much time here, but because it feels like it. For me, home is where sleep is. I don't sleep well in strange places and the office has already passed the litmus test because I nap there all the time. And the funny thing is, my dear colleagues actually try to talk in whispers and not make noise when they see me sleeping when I'm patently NOT supposed to!

Our office has an open, communal concept: there're no partitions and we sit in 2 rows at the sides while in the middle there're 2 big common tables. So a bunch of us often talk across the office and well, everyone can hear and see everything. It feels like a classroom, only without a teacher. And instead of flinging paper planes and crunched-up paper balls at each other, we hurl mock-insults.

And the view from here is fantastic--I often stand at the windows that span from ceiling to floor, just looking at the green hills afar which turn misty on cold days, and the occasional thunderstorms. Now they're turning it into an archive room cum general office, of all things, and building in those looming, grey compactus shelves libraries use to keep books that no one would borrow anymore.

For the move, I managed to keep my immediate neighbours, which is a relief. All of them have by now shifted out of the old office, except me and my right-hand neighbour (and a part-timer who's not often in), who seems as reluctant as me though he keeps a cheerful face about it. I thought I was crazy to be sad about leaving an office, but at one point, he mused aloud that he's been here for 2.5 years, and I knew I'm not really that nutty. Now that he's out in schools, it's just me in this big office which is so quiet and still, I can hear the humming of the printer and people walking by outside.

People have been coming in and out of the office all day, carting off boxes, stock taking, putting labels on the furniture. I wanted some quiet time in the office but now, looking at the empty desks around me, I realise it's the people who make the place. This was an office built for 10 and the noises and buzz they generate, and now, it's too big for comfort for me, and the dust is making me sneeze. Time to do the packing up that I've been putting off and head for the new office.

Places I want to go (I)

One of the places that I hope I'll get to see--lavender fields at sunset. I heard that France has lots of them, but it could be anywhere in the world for me, really. I just want to run to the middle of it, close my eyes and take in a deep, deep breath of the intoxicating, sweet scent.

The problem about making lists of the places you want to go is that you're very likely to have been inspired by picturesque photos in National Geographic or some travel magazine or postcard which had been photoshopped down to its last pixel. Or the photographer had used some special lenses which made the colours more intense: the sky pristine blue and the clouds iridescent and fluffy, and the forest, emerald green.

It'd be kind of sad if you're enchanted by the facsimiles and yet be let down by the real thing--dull and raw and washed out in comparison.

Perhaps the lavender would not be a vibrant purple. Perhaps lavender would feel dry and coarse and prick me as I touch them. Perhaps the real lavender doesn't smell anything like the bottled scent. But I'd rather risk being disappointed than not having seen it at all.

I want to see the real thing, not just someone else's version of the place, no matter how artistic it is, or how poetical. Not a flawless, polished, frozen picture in a glossy magazine. I just have to find out for myself, so that even if it proves to be imperfect, I can still say that I know the real scent of lavender.

Back to school

I've been sent back to school again, Grade 2 classes, no less.

As part of a research project, I've been tasked to observe classes this month. I used to cower before teachers, and now they still intimidate me, to some degree. I'm just inherently uncomfortable with figures of authority. Typical dialogue between me and the teachers I observe:

T: What's the purpose of this classroom observation, and by the way, you look very young hah?

Me: Erm, yah. But you know, I'm really older than I look! Ha ha.

T: Oh. (Awkward silence)

Many of them are puzzled that I should be observing them since I look like a kid just out of university and so, who was I to evaluate them? The last teacher who commented on this was informed tersely by me that we're actually of the same age.

I have the utmost respect for all teachers, because they're doing a job that I could never do. But I get miffed because what has age got to do with it? And as explained many times over, I'm not there to evaluate, but to observe though I'm not very good at that because I could never pay full attention in class.

Many a times, I had to stifle yawns (got to be a model of impeccable conduct with all those curious kids staring at me) during the lessons. Sometimes, my mind unknowingly wanders, like this afternoon, when I stared out the window, watched the wind harrassing a tree and the gardener watering the plants with a hose, when I really should be monitoring the going-ons in the classroom. Hard to believe that as I grow older, my attention span actually shortens.

Nowadays, classrooms just lull me into comatose. It could be the whirring of the fans, the background drone in every school, or the constant lecturing of the teacher and chattering of the students.

I wonder how, as a student, I managed to actually stay awake most of the time (though friends tell me I napped openly during chemistry lessons) and survive the whole educational system. I remember nothing but exercises and worksheets and essays and compositions over and over again. The whole sum of my educational experience is represented by the piles and piles of worksheets that I churned out.

Classes nowadays are somewhat better--more hands-on activities like making of posters and games and less worksheets. But a poster I saw in the classroom this afternoon made me think.

The title of the poster was "Our Goals" and I thought to myself that it should be interesting to see what collective ambitions Grade 2 students have. I went closer and it was basically made up of lots of post-it notes, each written by a different student. What they did was to list down the marks they should strive for for English and Maths and the current marks they're getting. Below the marks is a section called something like "My options and what's next" and basically they wrote the same things, everyone of them. Things like, "revise the topics that I'm poor in"; "read more"; "speak good English".

Oh, well.