Taking Care of a Bunch of 17-year-olds

I did the Maths. So when I was seventeen, these bunch of seventeen-year-olds in front of me were eight. EIGHT. *stares into distance in disbelief*

Anyway, I didn’t let that get the better of me, because age is just a number and if I see them having fun, I can, too, you know? Age is just a number.

But they weren’t having fun when I saw them just sitting, chatting away. And that bothered me for a reason I couldn’t explain.

I knew I wasn’t obligated to make suggestions of what they could do while they were on this quarantine period and I don’t think I was even allowed to, but they weren’t doing anything— anything fun and I couldn’t just let that be.

Therefore I took no time to composedly proposed a game, pretending I wasn't excited for them. especially when they chorally answered "Nak!!" in unison. eheh. now, onto the game! it's a game where I think they could experience a sense of betrayal from people whom they thought were they friends, a game that would make them look lame if they lose their cool, a game where everyone needs to carefully think, a game those our age are probably familiar with—

Werewolf and Citizens! *flashes a mischievous smile behind a curtain*

It didn’t surprise me that they haven’t heard of it, but I was touched for a second when I was explaining the rules, because woah, I am really going to be this one teacher they remember every time they play this game throughout their life. That’s. so. cool. Haha

And y’all, the quarantine period was from morning until 2pm, and they played the game the ENTIRE time. Shdsjjdksd I wasn’t expecting that. And I felt bad to be That teacher that had to control their noises bc as you know, this game can get INTENSE.

but the unexpected comradery I saw as they were playing it, the funny banter among them, the one two girls smiling sheepishly at the corner, the one boy who seems to be the heartthrob of this class, and me, looking at them.. had had me wishing I could be 17 again... *cooly wiped my fake tears in front of the whiteboard*

the quarantine room aka makmal sains

I... guess..?

it was a normal evening. I was teaching in the classroom (more like making sounds and dancing and making weird moves but let's not tell you that) just imagine me gracefully writing on the whiteboard, shining, looking pretty and cool, when suddenly one student of mine walked in front to ask:

"Miss, you are intelligent right?"

I went "Huh?" pretending not to hear him even though the question was simple, clear and concise bc please, I needed time to assess what he meant by that question.

His face: didn't look confused.

His tone: wasn't demeaning.

His reason: error 404

and so he went again,

"You are Actually intelligent right?" now with his eyebrows raised and a smile.

but being the insecure potato I was, I went "What?" again, hoping he'd just stop bc lol I know I might have looked like a clown with a big red nose to him at the moment but I swear I wasn't always like that T___T however he persistently asked that every cell in my brain had to aggressively typed some possible answers for me to tell him and the answer that my brain had deemed the best at that moment? it's this:

"Uh-huh yeah I guess..?" 

lmaaaaaoooo which of my brain cell intern came up with this? gurl can't even confidently say "Yes" sdjkskdjsd to a seven year-old! or you know what? a humble answer would have been much cooler like "Oh no, I am still learning" or "I don't think so, you are more intelligent than me I bet" like ??????????  

but before I could alter my answer, the kid just walked away smiling after exclaiming "Oh yes, I know you are!" eye-?

what? what is this behavior? come back and explain!!! Geez. now im probably really just a clown to him kan? *cries while taking this clown makeup off*

am I THE Picasso Jr?

One day when I tried to draw on the whiteboard, I heard one student shouting "Miss, what's that?" to which I replied "Oh you wait. I haven't finished, you gotta guess later" and I continued gliding my hands on the whiteboard, drawing, like the Picasso I thought I was.

10 seconds... 20 seconds... 30 seconds... two minutes.....

tada! 

"Now can you guess?" I asked proudly. 

I felt like that was an excellent piece of work for someone who can't couldn't draw— Picasso Jr. hihi. so I turned around and waited patiently as they squirmed their eyes trying to match my drawing to the words registered in their head.

"Ruler!" I smirked. Correct.

"Table!" I clapped. Correct.

and so on.. and so on...

until they went...

"Miss," they laughed sneakily and continued, "what's that?" pointing at the bag I drew. "It's.." and then I thought... 'isn't it THEIR job to guess?' so I went "Well, YOU guess?

...but they seemed genuinely didn't know that I had to reanalyze my drawing because... they cannot Not know a bag...? Okay, alright, maybe it's my drawing. Sorry kids, I am only a Picasso Junior after all.

and so I broke it to them, "It's a bag", and some of them were nice they went "Oh!" but some of them were not-so-nice they squirmed their eyes again trying to scan that One drawing of mine that I had to even explain "Can't you see? This is the strap.... this is the pocket.." 

and that's how my English classroom turns into an anatomy class of ..a bag. 

Picasso Jr. my ass.