All I needed as an answer

I slept like a baby last night.

I came home after my RCIA class, washed up, and prepared for bed.

I was feeling lethargic, not physically though, but inside.

It was a good RCIA session though. We learnt about fervent and persistent prayer (with regard to the Gospel of the upcoming week); we also learnt about the Bible.

But that wasn't what led to my lethargy. Not an inch.

In fact, I kind of feel, had I not gone for class, maybe my spinning headache would be worse, much worse.

...

I wasn't really physically tired, but I didn't have trouble falling asleep.

As a matter of fact, it was one of those moments in which a fleeting thought was that, if God could just get me out of this discomfort forever.

But nah, like I said, it was "fleeting".

...

I had cried so hard in the afternoon that my head hurt. That is why.

And why did I cry? Good question, very good question.

I have cried on and off a few times since I have got here, but this time round, it was the hardest that I can remember.

It didn't help because I was already feeling very wounded from an earlier conversation.

A revealing but painfully revealing conversation.

So when this episode exploded, my psyche wasn't quite ready for it.

...

She gave me a hard time yesterday.

She got off the bus, refusing to talk to me the whole way home.

She refused even to walk home, stopping on the track many times to read her book.

And then in the end, I decided that I was going to walk faster to get her to follow me. She did, eventually, a house apart.

Then she decided she would sit down on the porch to read her book.

Everything she was doing was delaying her entry back home.

I have already told her she needed to bring the garbage out when she got home. She was supposed to do that before she went to school but she didn't have time, and so she said she would do it after school.

And I also told her, if she could get her homework done in peace and silence, and not disturb her mum who was home, she would get a strike off (she has 2 strikes under her name; one more strike and it means that the TV and computer are out of bounds for 2 days).

Well, so there was reason to delay her entry back home. And she wasn't listening to me because Mum has just returned from a business trip and from what I know, she tends to do that whenever Mum returns.

So she decided that she would sit herself on one of the rocking chairs outside the house and read her book.

I gave her a 7 minute time limit. Then she has to get back home and do her work.

Well, at the end of the 7 minutes, she knows that she will get a strike if she is still not back in. And that was what she did.

I walked to the front door and opened the door and she was pressing the door bell.

The thing is, she could have used the finger pad (there are three doors in the house; one of them is fitted with a finger pad in which entry is allowed via your fingerprint) but she chose the door bell, and she was ringing it incessantly.

When she barged in, she kicked her shoes all over. And ran up to find her mum.

I chased after her, and I ordered her down.

At much resistance, she came down and continued kicking her shoes around the house.

Finally, she kicked it to its final position, and as she returned to her mum's room, she tried to kick me.

She kicked my cap instead.

I would very very very very very very very much like to believe it was due to jest.

I would very very very very very very very much want to believe that she was playing around.

But looking at her body language, it was purely confrontational.

And I don't know how one is supposed to feel. I was sad. I was angry. I was disappointed. I was everything.

What kind of nonsense is this?

I just went back to my room and cried.

A knock on my door came, and I had thought it was her, only to find out it was her mum.

She was just shocked to see me in tears, sobbing so hard. She apologized and apologized.

Why should she be apologizing? Well, on hindsight yeah, she should, because she hadn't trained her kid up well.

And in case you are also scratching your head and wondering why I cry, and thinking that I am making a mountain out of a molehill, then let me ask you this:

If you are a teacher, and a kid in your class wants to kick you, what does it say?

I don't know: Is it my problem, or is it her problem?

Why do I let other people do this to me? Should I be letting other people do this to me?

...

I don't have an answer.

...

I am still feeling hurt from the incident.

The parents spoke to me and reassured me that she is going to be punished severely.

If punishment just means retrieval of privileges like the computer and the TV...then maybe you should just forget it.

*shake head*

...

It is difficult to face her this morning.

For now, it will have to be purely professional. I find it difficult to extend love and warmth to her.

I find it difficult to want to show concern for her.

Until then, I don't care. Anyway, that is her favourite line anyway, which I shall borrow for now.

I have been struggling about the decision to continue on this program or this family.

I don't have an answer for the former yet, but I do know my answer on the latter.

And that is enough for now, I guess.