“So, this is my last Friday teaching you guys…”
When I said this, loud “awwwws” filled the room before I notice one boy marching back to his table, mumbling “now we have more time for fun…”, and another boy looking downwards, his face a bit contorted as he rolled his eyes up to the ceiling and uttered, “yes.”
I smile these discomforting images away as I laugh off my mixed feelings of joy for freedom of starting something new next week and of strained reluctance to leave them behind.
No matter how hard I try, some will never see my tears, will never feel my passion, will never accept my efforts. Not everyone is going to like you.
This is my decision. This choice of leaving—does this show a lack of commitment, weakness in adversity? Or does it show change, courage to voice out my thoughts, to take a risk in communication? Or was it “something that I brought upon myself”? I will not see the immediate effects of whether I made the right decision or not. Yet, judging from the response of the one particular boy, it’s hard not to feel hurt.
But when I see the fruits of the fresh relationships that I have recently built towards these new kids, I feel like I’m interrupting—no breaking—something beautiful that is slowly being harvested.
I shouldn’t think too hard about this. In the end, God will show me. Besides, it’s not like I won’t see them ever again.
I will be right next door.