I got teary as I recounted tales of my childhood the other day because I noticed something about younger me that I had not noticed before. I was one determined girl. I barely took no for an answer.
Take this instance for example: A few weeks into class one, a certain teacher came to our class and asked who had participated in singing games (nursery rhymes associated with a set of actions) in nursery school (sorry, kindergarten ;)). A number of pupils raised their hands. I was among them. The teacher wrote the names of those who had raised their hands and asked them to go back to school in the afternoon so that they could practice for the oncoming music festival. Problem is, she never saw me. She never wrote my name.
I was really annoyed. Good thing is that younger me could not accept things without putting up a fight. So during lunch at home I told my mum that I was going to go back to school anyway even if the teacher didn’t jot down my name. Luckily, she didn’t hold me back.
So I went back to school in the afternoon and explained everything to the teacher. She gave me that look that suggested she would have loved to get rid of me but she couldn’t, heaved a sigh of helplessness and told me that there was no problem, I could join them.
This tale and many others brought tears to my eyes because I wondered where that determination went to. I realized that growing up does something terrible to us. Voices from the outside become louder than the voice inside us hence most of the things we do is dictated by other people’s definition of sanity. Our sense of determination melts away. We become trapped in our picket fences, afraid to take risks.
I want to bring out the child that’s trapped inside of me. The child is not a novice anymore, however, her many years of experience has not dampened her spirit of risk-taking. She has not allowed other voices to drown her own, and she has not lost her sense of wonder.