Flowering to Be a Teacher

A flower blooms, guided by nature and I see it emerge. In the right season their colours and fragrance are mesmerising. Flowers are on a mission: setting us all in the right direction to love nature. I watch them and admire the tidiness, the intricacies of their anatomy, of their being. 

My teaching career is like a flower emerging, like the one I saw in my college yesterday; a bloom that is being nurtured by the sun and the care of those tending it.  I was once not in the realm of teaching, preferring admin and acting. But times changed, COVID moved things along, and I found something new to grow into, something that was just beginning to bud within me. I incubated a desire to sprinkle some of my knowledge to willing students, those who would be excited to learn. I saw, through the corner of my eyes, green buds beginning to bloom in the light of the sun. So I focused on teaching, giving it importance, over all other activities. 

I knew that I could leave making invoices, put aside my admin and acting, and venture out to take on further educational challenges. I was an avid student at my new university and the placement college where I started my training. I wanted to make better use of time; I had that understanding and gladly started my training. My task was to convince myself that perhaps I could be a lecturer with a penchant for teaching English Language (both at Functional Skills and GCSE levels.) I knew that I could put my English degree to use for teaching; I’d put away my resolution too long, all due to indecision. There were young people that wanted to get better at what they studied, so they could read and write better English. The teachers I followed, during my training period were objective, knew their curricula and instructed their pupils to be savvy. Care was taken to see that their students understood what was being taught, ensuring that they could produce work based on what was required of them by the examination board and the college.

Initially, I was an observer, seeing how the professionals helped Further Education (FE) students to respond to exam-style and past exam questions, giving hints and advice when needed. I found that pre-planning is an important matter. I also told myself that when I became a teacher, I would have to get the pupils to write according to the best instructive mould. Their exams would require factual answers based upon close reading of texts and a careful analysis of language and structure. As my confidence grew, I began to help the students I was observing. Every bud slowly expanded to find new directions, to seem that much bigger, so too my teaching career grew. Over the summer of 2022 I worked at a college in Egham. Having completed my observation period, I began teaching ESOL to a number of young students, mostly from Italy. I taught during the day, after a long train journey I had to take in the early mornings. 

The rail trip, which had me sitting in virtually empty carriages, gave me time to sort my thoughts, to focus on teaching matters, and admire the lush British countryside. I spent lovely and lively days, teaching, reading and travelling to reach destinations, admiring the green English countryside which sometimes had bright blossoms. 

My students were eager to learn and I loved them for it—young minds keen to know more about the English language and its various facets, each one a petal on a scented rose. They always loved writing imaginative sentences, getting familiar with adjectives and other parts of speech; I was the teacher who could compel them to write the most. I would be teaching away most afternoons, with the crisp sun filtering through my classroom window. I felt myself flowering, maturing, becoming the teacher I’d dreamed of being.

As the autumn descended with its mellowness, I started work in Benfleet and found how students in their late teens were avid for a bit of learning and I welcomed that. Every young mind needs a clutch of pointers, so that they can form ideas—so they can grow discussions in and out of the classroom. I enjoyed their presence as did they mine. They could tell me how to proceed with a topic, and I would try to incorporate their ideas into the lesson. Students expressed themselves and I developed an understanding of their education, step by step. I soon knew how to talk to them, what to say, and how to impart education. They needed specific help, like how to start writing a sentence or how to include and work with a quote, and that was what I led them to. 

In the winter of 2023, I began teaching at a college in Lewisham, close to where I lived. Days were shorter and darker, ice and chill filled the air, but even that was a bouquet for me —different frozen flowers that spelled out how I could expand my educational and teaching horizons. Frozen dew days passed in quiet moments of teaching, when I held the torch that lit the academic paths of many young FE students. I crossed many terrains, and I thanked my Maker that I’d had the chance to assist FE students. As winter gave way to spring, and then summer, I watched the Lewisham flowers bloom and in our rose-garden, red and white, yellow and pink, purple and orange. My educational and teaching path was garlanded with petals, fragrance—everything was beautiful to me. 

I taught at Bromley next. There they listened closely to my lectures, about moods, minds, themes, thoughts, concepts and narratives. The student community and I grew together. I learned patience and persistence from them, embracing the joy of their positive feedback, and shunning all distractions. Nothing spoiled that joy, though student behaviour could be an issue. But when there were tasks and duties to perform, and time allowed that, the journey forward became a pleasure and not a strain. 

While I worked to become a teacher, my dad overcame a health scare. As he did, he began gardening again. We connected over that—he grew dahlias and I cultivated minds. Students put in an effort, as did I, and my resources kept them satisfied, as the terms progressed. Dad dug the earth and watered and tended his jasmines and petunias, and I saw my classrooms light up with budding talent, as the learners advanced in their studies. 

Time passed, from autumn to winter, and then to summer, like a cyclical symphony, or a song in the round. I heard the melody in my ears, it made me flower into someone more helpful, the way I dreamt I could be. Then I felt every bit like a teacher, someone who was pedagogical and helpful, organised and creative. 

Confidence grows at a surefire pace, with intention and labour combined. I found myself as I turned corners, the sides of me that I knew I would find: my shadows sprinting out from their hiding spots under leaves, my zeal in the saps of roots—all of this with the passing of contemplative days and nights, in all seasons. 

Every day, I work towards making the lives of young FE learners better. Students approach me with specific problems and questions that I’m glad to answer. As a teacher, I gaze happily over them; the flowers smile back from their green vista of peace.