eyes open to dream
a year as a teacher
Hello, everyone. Happy New Year. I’ve been gone for half a year. It’s been quite the 5 months since. Not the best, not the worst. I turned 25. I like it.
Today I would like to talk about actual, personal, real life events. I’m not writing any prose or poetry with the intention of writing per se; the intention is to simply reflect on a very real part of my life. It is long, the longest I have published on here. It is simple. Have at thee.
Alt title: “daydream, on and on”
Author’s Note: There is no audio file here. It’s part of the experience.
eyes open to dream
chapter 1: nighttime
In the year 2016, I was a student of the natural sciences. I switched that year to the arts. I did not know much what I was doing with that switch except run away from subjects I was not good at. It excited me. So much to learn! I was faced with much struggle adjusting to the art of “flowing” in movement, in writing, in sound. I enjoyed my classes, yet I didn’t know what I would do after. There was one thing I knew, and it was that I wished to be more like teachers whose presence enriched my life beyond my wildest imaginations. In hindsight, my life grows richer by the second with the care they gave me many a year ago. Four years later as a sophomore in university, I was faced with the question again: what are you going to do?
Teach. I wanted to teach! It excited me to no end. Even now I shiver in excitement, goosebumps visible on my wrist hitting the keyboard as I imagine myself in the chair my professors once occupied. A classroom is where I belonged - and it is a thought that’s paid off its mortgage. Of course, I am only 25 - this might as well be simply due to the safety of not having to imagine myself beyond a classroom. And yet, it doesn’t matter. From age 16 to 24, all I knew was I want to teach. And I wanted to teach at a university level. High school is largely following syllabi with the stringiest of rubrics. A university class? Freedom - I could create entirely new lectures, add new things to the syllabi, make my own rubric. The perfect job for control freaks with many a stray thought, some of which were ideas.
December 2023 was the sort of month you tell stories of to those that come after you. I began that month in the pits of despair facing nightmares down the barrel; no prospects, and certainly almost no will. I ended it a different continent, a nervous wreck waiting to hear back after whether I’d get to do that mock lecture in front of the board or not. Waking up felt like a battle on both sides of those oceans: first, I dreaded the fact I had absolutely nothing; second, that I could be back home and still have nothing. I would go hours without going physically near my devices. I would peer at them from a distance.
The heart dances when it knows it may get what it wants.
In two weeks, it’ll be the anniversary of the day I got the call that yes, indeed, I have the job. 18th of January, 2024. I now teach at the same university that was my undergraduate alma mater, and in two weeks I will have completed a year in this position. In reality, it doesn’t feel too outlandish. Throughout 2024 I always felt like I must calm myself and others when I revealed to them that yes, I do indeed have what is my dream job. Being at it for a full year is ridiculous. My heart quickens while imagining what has occurred. It’s been on my mind for the past week and a half, hence why you read this now; a memoir of my year teaching in 2024.
chapter 2: dawn
I was greener than fresh moss in those first few weeks. I am still green enough, but in the beginning it was quite daunting. I saw in front of me individuals who were nary a year, maybe two, maybe three younger than I was, and here in my hands lay their possibility to learn. Ridiculous. I did not know how to dress, how to stand, what tone to pick when guiding my students. The modules I was in charge of were also those I considered the most rigorous in the entire program in my times of enrollment. I felt out of depth. It felt too early. I shouldn’t have gotten here at 24, this was for 28, maybe 30, maybe 32. Mr. President, there’s too much winning. We can’t take it any more.
I was wrong. I fit the job like a glove. Around halfway into the semester I hit my stride, and soon enough I felt I was communicating the lecture materials to a level I would be satisfied with as a student. My 100% was set, and I was almost always close to matching it. I’m not sure how it works for others in the profession since I am usually surrounded by peers far ahead in their careers compared to me - these are people I consider mentors - and their methods are much different to mine, key to which is my ability to truly empathize with my students. I was them 2 years before this.
I see a Saad sitting in every class I teach.
As a student I never really paid attention to the ridiculous amount of information we were told to absorb. I loved classrooms which simply looked at me as an individual, glare paralyzing me to ask: what do you think? Hence, I have a rule to almost never have a rigid lecture structure with very few exceptions. I’m still new, I still have to check some basic boxes. I maintain that my methodology is very much off the sleeve. I walk in with certain prepared talking points I must cover, and I honestly wing it most of the time. It works. In fact, the less detail my lecture plan contains, the more my brain has to work to fill in the gaps. This gap is where the sublime occurs.
The sublime is just a name I have for what others also experience. It is beyond the 100%. A state of euphoric focus, fueled by adrenaline. I can count on my two hands how many times I’ve had a lecture where I’ve truly tapped into it. Those were my best. These are situations where I feel my presence has truly tapped into not simply my own highest form in class, but also those of my students. It is in this scenario where every question you ask as a lecturer drives your students into the right direction and it does so with incredible fervour that captivates, incites a fever. Gratifying it is for your students to see you as the guide, yet the finest I have tasted is you as the guide disappearing into thin air as they realize themselves the road was there to be walked even without you. They are capable and have been all along. A beautiful realization to see expressed on their faces. The ideal wind to sail is one that doesn’t rock the boat.
Surely, Saad, you would aim to recreate those every single time ideally! Yet truth be told, I do not possess the energy to do so. Over the course of a term it truly saps you to aim for beyond your best. I save it for special lectures: those where I feel I can truly let loose. Of course, sometimes it just happens regardless without command. I am not a freak of nature.
The interpersonal is also one aspect I have faced. Each person in class is an individual who possesses their own dreams. Some are smarter than the others, some have better work ethics. Some dream bigger. My job is to be a hand in creating academics of a certain standard while helping them personally advance and achieve what they wish to. This can get tricky as I am, at best, 2 to 3 years ahead of them career wise. I try, but I come up short frequently. I am acutely aware of all that I lack, and all that is not in my ability to provide. It stings.
It is true: there are always some favourites. It boils down to simply one thing: how rewarding is it to teach them? A favourite of mine might be the worst student in the class who still tries their darnedest to improve. It has been on occasion outstanding academics I see outpacing myself in no time, those I feel privileged to teach. The stereotype I enjoy the most is the student who faces a wall and is desperate to go over, through, or around. They simply do not know how. It is simple bits and pieces I hand them, and off they go. Walls break, and they let loose. Every additional student attending my class makes me smile, but these types make me smile further: they light a fire in me that makes me want to match their tango. If they’re taking it this seriously…trying that hard, why can’t you? Dastardly are those who see this and choose to not respond in kind. A job’s a job, but in this case…you must approach each situation with innate desire to help. Love!
Author’s Note: Switched it up. I suggest tapping play as you begin reading on.
It’s part of the experience.
chapter 3: eyes open to dream
Due to events that have transpired over the past year, my internal timeline of career progression has shifted askew. There will be an extra year here or there. Whether I get to the goal is another question, but even if I do, I will be older than planned. It took me the entire year of 2024 to digest this reality. In a very recent conversation with a dear friend, I was made to realize that despite all my faults, I still very much am someone people are awed by when I reveal what I do. It feels incredible. It sustains me for the time being and is an ache I wish I never forget. How long can it continue?
There will no doubt come a time where my life must evolve beyond simply feeling great as others see me as such. Yes, we are social animals and derive happiness from those around us. Throughout my life, my goals have driven me to success, failure and success again. Those goals were not internal foci. In reality the goalposts were set as a response to that around me. Your internal fire can not rely on the weather.
To live is to create. The point of ruminating and philosophizing over concepts is not to simply know the truth, but to also spread it. It is creation. It all boils down to creation. I feel this is what draws me to my classroom. I am nothing but a multiplier in these peoples’ lives, with the faintest chance of making a real difference. I have only begun yet I can grasp my deficiencies - a reason I still long to be a student again and again. I feel stupid many days. It is a deep seated feeling of inadequacy with where I am. There is fear within me that it is exactly this that is necessary to keep going.
Honestly, fancy words aside, I am nobody. I know I’m good at what I do, but the itch to improve never goes away. I sit in my chair like Dr. Aly used to. It’s quite comfortable. Every single experience or piece of knowledge expressed in this piece is the furthest from unique. I am yet another ant in the anthill, and I must best make my dues. Similar were the giants, the old masters who we study and are taught by. I dare not dream to join them. It’s joy.
It is a joy and a privilege. To seek to know is to love, and I remain a lover for the time being. May it be forever.
I would like to name every major role model for my obsession with teaching. Ms. Rizwana from English who had nothing but confidence in my ability. Mehdi from World History, who saw us as people with interests first. Sir Asaad and his fixation on Russia. Dr. Aly and his ability to guide you without realization. Dr. Oyawale, a master of questioning in his craft. You are titans whose shoulders bear the mark of my feet as tiny as they were and remain. Sure, I’m pretty good if not great at my job - but I can only hope mine own shoulders can broaden enough for those in my classes. Until then…
I’ll be anchoring here and there reading. Learning as much as I can.
/end
I need to learn to use pronouns referring to the self other than “I”. It gets old.
This was a deviously long read. Thank you very much for getting this far. I have never written anything this long for the public eye before. I am very proud of it and myself. Can’t promise I’ll have more like this. If you got this far and haven’t subscribed (mental), here’s a button you can press:
Today’s track was “Off We Go Into The Wild Pale Yonder” by British alt-rock band Sea Power, for the game Disco Elysium.
I hope to be back soon.
Yours where we live dreams,
Saad.
Saad it was so soulful! Certainly, an unprecedented feeling 🌷
This was a pretty insightful read.
Your description of the "sublime" reminds me about all those times I had to go off the beaten path when creating something. Like when you're writing a story and you have no idea where to go next, so you just try to get in the character's headspace and think about where they'd go or what they'd do next. You have no idea where you're going, but when you're done writing about it, it feels like it couldn't have been written any other way.
Also, that bit about matching their tango - it kinda reminds me about what one therapist once told me; that their motivation for getting into that field was to see other people help themselves. See, a therapist can only guide them, but the one has to do the actual work was their clients. When they saw their clients overcoming their challenges, it made them want to be better in their own lives as well. It gave them hope.
Despite how selfish the world can come across sometimes, I really do think that helping others is an in-built thing in humans. Its not all selfishness. We like stories about hard work, of the underdog triumphing over their obstacles. I'm no scientist, but I think that says something, at least.
Congratulations on finishing a year, btw. Here's to many more.
(And as always, fire choice for a song. Disco Elysium needs to be played more).