Training & Aging...Tine

The light-hearted stuff first; during my time at the RHSC, I have had the opportunity to design and teach a session on international law in the centre’s training course for government officials. My first stint was in November last year, and my second just ended 2 weeks Wednesday. November was a bit disconcerting. I was the youngest instructor, and was also (much) younger than all the students/participants and I felt totally out of my depth, somewhat like a little kid asked to perform to a room of disapproving grownups. I was nervous and I think this had a negative impact on my presentation and classroom control. I had also never taught the material I had prepared and was therefore more paper bound and “scripted” than I would have liked. The worst part of it though: there were two officials in the front of the classroom who were totally disinterested in what I had to say and made no secret of it. They passed (apparently humorous) notes to each other throughout the proceedings and made liberal use of the texting facility on their cell phones. And just so I did not feel too neglected, they would occasionally throw me a bemused glare from time to time. Now it wasn’t all bad. My reviews were pretty decent and a lot of the participants came up to me afterwards to say they really enjoyed the session. Still, such was my “trauma” that I secretly promised myself that I would never teach in that course again. Thankfully, a bit of time (and perspective) restored reason and common sense (which is not so common sometimes).

Second time around, the demographics, were similar. I was still the youngest, and I was teaching the same material. However there was a dramatic turnaround for the better. I had one of my best days at the RHSC. The participants were engaged, animated, interested and polite. I was composed, had a solid grasp of the material and actually had fun. I even went over time without realizing it! I think I speak for the crew when I say that some days are better than others on this project. Some days we do better than others. The bad days are tough, but the good days override the bad days a hundred fold.


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In other news, I turned 26 a month ago, and Zach and Lewis are always quick to remind me that I am not 25 anymore (as if I am not keenly aware of this guys!!). This birthday was particularly hard for me. I don’t know whether it’s the realization that I am not a spring chicken anymore, or my silent (but salient) exit from the 18-25 demographic (the other day I was filling out a form and actually had to tick 26-32). Or maybe it’s the poignant fact that I am closer to 30 than I am to 20. Whatever it is, I am filled with a melancholy of sorts. I can still remember the toddler with the afro puffs on my father’s shoulders. I remember my Y.E.S. collection of “Gold Certificates” (come on guys, you know those were a BIG DEAL). I remember the emotional and volatile teenage years when everything was just so complicated. I remember turning 15 and writing down “time waits for no man”. That was over a decade ago. Dear reader, from time to time, I wax poetically about my native homeland, with its many mysteries and contradictions. How is it that I am not there anymore? When exactly was my “right of passage”? Who deemed me worthy to navigate the complex contours of adulthood? Who let me out of the house??? I look askance at the passage of time-- silent and unimposing and yet exacting and precise in her taxing demands on youth and vitality.

“Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.” That we may live life Sensibly. Prudently. Skilfully. That we may avoid the folly of youth. That we may keep sobriety as our constant companion. “Lord make me to know my end, and what is the measure of my days, that I may know how frail I am. Indeed you have made my life as [mere] handbreadths, and my age is as nothing before you; Certainly every man at his best state is as vapor. Selah.”