Hi Gorgeous...

=)

Gorgeous-too, you probably wouldn't know but you're putting me to sleep with a smile every night.

Friend asks, why am I so disbelieving?

Because I don't want to be misled.

And because it all seems too good to be true.

If there's anything I've learnt, it's that words can be too cheap to be relied upon.

I'd rather a man who does more than he speaks.


*****

I recently made the effort to find some dear but long-lost friends: my P.E. teachers from college.

"... while packing, saw some photos and letters that you sent. You were a kid then..."

I'll always be a kid to you. =)


I have ever once wanted to become a P.E. teacher.

In fact, for a short stint, I had ever been one.

Right after the 'A's, I didn't don a skirt and blouse and join the 'temp office job' gang. No way - not at the tender age of 18. Instead, I put on my favorite tee-and-shorts combo, and taught P.E. back at my college on a relief stint.

It was haven then.

Morning lessones would start at about eight, right after the morning assembly, and end by nine. Afternoon lessons would resume only at three. I had no 'paperwork' to handle, unlike my fellow teachers, so I had all the time to myself after nine.

You would either find me lounging (read: sleeping) on the couch at the back of the P.E. room, or catch me sneaking out of school for my driving lessons - with the blessings of my 'boss', of course. Without this stint, I probably wouldn't be driving my baby now still.

Lunch hours were long. P.E. teachers never have to rush back for afternoon classes. The ones in colleges, that is. What the hell are classroom subjects? We never ate in the school canteen; we were always taking our own sweet time at the hawker centers and the coffeeshops outside.

Teaching college kids was a blessing too. They are old enough not to play punk, yet young enough to be taught. It helped that I came from a good college - we never had much of a disciplinary problem. I've heard horror stories from neighborhood school teachers where kids would take 20 minutes to change up, leaving only 10 minutes for lessons, or girls would whine about menstrual cramps - all the time. Bleah. All the pai kias.

My job was easy, truth be told. I was practically paid to play netball, basketball, handball, football, any-ball. No real physical training, until the physical fitness tests drew nigh. Then, when that time came, all I had to do was to stand around with a whistle and order the kids to run laps or do sit-ups. Ah, I like authority. Ha.

Since I used to run track myself, I was asked to help out with the track team. No harm. I hurdled, so I had only to coach the hurdlers. Plus, I get to put down on my resume, I was ever a track coach. Ha.

I was, however, also the teacher with the highest casualty rate. I was always bringing limping kids or bleeding kids into the P.E. room.

"Again?!" Yeah, that's me.

I got pretty good at nursing wounds for a while.

I loved talking to the kids. Maybe because I was only a year or two older than they were, or maybe because I was more 'fun' and less strict, but I thought the kids loved me too. I loved the bond made with them.

Years later, whenever I bumped into them on the streets, they would greet me in excitement, "Miss Lee!" It made me cringe for a while - I had never been called that way ever since. But I was happy too, that they remembered me.

I loved my teachers then too. We were more like friends. I got invited to gatherings and dinners, and to me then, they were the most simple, grounded folks I'd ever met. I wanted so much to be like them. One observation I made during all these gatherings (usually with other P.E. folks from other schools - it's very much akin to the 'elitist' doctor community): P.E. teachers usually marry another one.

What a perfect union, I used to think. I just wanted to be part of the P.E. folks.


After school, my dreams of being a P.E. teacher waned.

I got more practical. Being a P.E. teacher is like a no-way-out career move. Instead, I chose to step into the corporate rat-hole.

Years later, in my working days, I would bump into these teachers now and then. Questions were thrown at me, about what and how I was doing.

The conversations never failed to end with them telling me, "See? You should've been a P.E. teacher. Come lah."

I would laugh, and make some excuse. Then secretly, I would always think, "What if I had become one?"


A couple of weeks ago, at Hapyfish's wedding, I bumped into one of my favorite teachers.

See, Hapyfish is a P.E. teacher - teaching at, of all my places, my college. She's now a colleague of some of my ex-colleagues.

Inevitably, my dear teacher-turned-friend said again, "Come lah. Come be a teacher lah. You'll be much happier."

I went home thinking, Is that true?


I had a whale of a time during the short five months as a teacher.

I learnt the meaning of finding happiness in what you do. I made friends, whom I lost for a while but I'm meeting soon in a couple of weeks.


Now that I'm in a career rut, the idea of returning to the track seems to be an option.

Still, I'm not too sure.

I'm still chicken-shit. What if... ?


One day, however, don't be surprised when I turn up at work in my favorite tee-and-shorts combo. =)