Remembering the teachings of your professor, his heart, to getting you to accomplish all that you'd, become…translated…
After I'd graduated out of grad school, every summer, I'd always taken a day, to visit the college of liberal arts of National Taiwan University of Education to visit my professors. Strolling by the redbrick road by the fences, then, headed on up to the sixth floor of the college of liberal arts, to find back those days of me as a student, hearing my professors comment on the news, on the literature.
I recalled the issues of back when I was writing my graduate papers, originally, the professor told me that he wasn't going to instruct me, but as I'd gone to him, again, and again, to beg him, he'd finally, agreed, to help me complete this topic, that wasn't, what he'd wanted to, research, on.
During those days of studying in the heat of summer, the cicada calls, every time I'd written my professor, and gone to visit him in person, I'd had to, groom through the literature, make the changes, redo the chapters, finding the awareness of the problems, that was a period when everything was going so slowly. The steps were really slow, and, scattered up, but it was, the time when I'd, learned the most too.
The professor was quite tough, "you need to read more, go read the books, go!", he'd given me complete confidence, I'd not been sure, if he saw how hard working I was, or actually believed I had what it takes, just as he'd predicted, I was able to finish my thesis and passed my public school teaching examination, and it was on the same day that I'd passed the exams, and on the same day, that the results were, posted too.
That day, as I'd finished giving my oral presentation, I was completely out, and on the way home, I got a call of congratulations from my friend, I was stunned and couldn't react, thought, what's to celebrate? Turned out, I'd, let the time to check the postings of our grades, flown over my head. As I'd hung up, I was in disbelief, started crying by the sidewalks.
illustration from UDN.com
That enormous pressure, and that tension, finally, released—that huge rock fell to, the bottom now, my shoulders can loosen up, I can, breathe, more freely, no more chest pains, finally, I can, stop and say: I'm truly, totally, burned, out! And I'd recalled what my professor had said to me: you will get in, but, you need to prepare for your exams and complete your thesis at the same time, time is pressing, you need to really work very hard, you will, I know you can.
My thesis instructor was the head instructor of National University of Education, on the way back to school, I'd recalled all of these things of my past, with the collecting of my steps, I'd, pieced them all back together, reconstructed.
Those nighttime lectures that caused me to burn out, in the libraries, working hard to crank out my assignments, the thrills presentations, the professor's sharp critiques, the heaviness of air when I'd made my presentations, the look of authority, a "your time is up", it'd made you feel that you're, out.
Recalled how once as I'd engaged in a discussion of a certain piece, I'd held myself together, until I walked out of the liberal arts building, then, I'd started, crying hard, the professor wasn't harsh, but, in the process of discussion, he'd made me felt like I'd not done well enough, I'd felt awful, that sense of I have to accomplish this or else. I'd felt nothing but gratitude toward him, not only on the knowledge part, but also, there's, the unspoken sort of a connection between us.
As I'd walked toward the graduate lab of the college of liberal arts, I'd carried a present as I had done in the past, still did not make an appointment.
Not making the appointment, because I feared that as I'd set up the time, it would become a sort of an intrusion to him, to make it hard for us both, to make the time. Not making the appointment, but being able to see him, that would be, the tiny blessings I will cherish for the whole day, and, it would keep my heart happy all day long; if I missed him, fine too, leaving the present, and the note, and, that gives me the reason to come back here next month. There was, no pressure, and it'd felt, romantic, like the novel from the Wei Dynasty, "on a whim I'd come, returned with satisfaction, without the need to actually meet up."
For me, returning back to my alma mater to visit, like so, from when I set out in the morn, to knocking on my professor's office, all the way, I'd, carried my heart full of gratitude, and reminded myself: that I shall keep on carrying the same state of mind to research, to pass down my professor's kindness, care and concerns for me as a student, hoping, that I will be as good an instructor, in my path as a school instructor too.
My visiting the National University of Education, it'd not matter if I'd not gotten to see my professor in person. This time, next time, the times, after that too.
So, this is a trip, to remind you of your purpose, of why you'd become a school instructor, because of your professor's inspiring you to achieve, and you'd carried that heart of thanks, of gratitude toward him, as you'd, returned to your alma mater to see if you can, "bump into" him, by chance…
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