喃喃自語 >> Ich bin Nell

It’s my second year of teaching, you know, these crazy kids. I don’t know whether I love this job or not, but I’m sure I can’t find a better one. However, I force myself to be content with this goddammit job, dealing with those trivial things at the place you called “the epitome of society.” We people called teachers should teach and guide those outrageous people and help them. Maybe I am too selfish; I admit I am not so human-liked. You know what I mean. I don’t love people quite well, and I don’t understand them as well. Such irony is that I am a teacher. A career that encounters people and help people. Can I just do something I want? But it’s pretty sad that I don’t know what I can do except insisting on the profession I got hardly. I am afraid, I am horrified, I am frightened by people. I am too naïve and childish you may say, but I still want to confess, “I am totally frightened!” Every minute I stand before those guys or sit in the crowded and gaddammit narrow office. The most frightened thing is to talk with other so-called my colleagues and try to smile as sweet as possible. I am still looking for the calling from the almighty.

I miss everything happened before. I always think of the songs I used to sing in my college chorus when I commute to work. I miss people I met before. I miss you badly. I got a decent job now, and just ran through a mild accident on the way to a speech, and my bone split a little bit. It still hurts sometimes especially when it’s cold. But I can handle it, anyway. After that experience, it seems that I don’t grab everything tightly anymore just like the old me. Not everything I would care about, not anymore. I suddenly find how vulnerable I am. I try to be a good person so that everybody likes me. But I feel really tired. Sometimes I got mad and lose my patience and you know, temper. Thank God my seat in the old office is next to the telephone, which means I should be responsible for the operator job naturally. I do it well oftentimes. But for some times, I lose my culture and just shout at the person who calls in. I feel sorry and regret, but I have nothing to do. I can’t pretend to be an elegant and angel-voiced operator all the time. Maybe some colleagues deem me as a quirk and mad kid.

However, you don’t have to worry about me. I’ll try to be a better person, maybe a better teacher when I have to face those teenagers. I believe that they don’t like me quite well, they think I am totally mad. So what? I need a job and salary to support my family and me. I just try to survive.

My second year. Hopefully, I won’t be too emotional. You never know how badly I miss you. If there’s a chance, talk with me, all right? Forgive me, I dare not call you, because I am a coward.