Farhana Hanani

Now that I've seen my students grow, specifically my first Grade 7s, the adolescents who barely talked on their first day of school, I've never felt prouder. I'm more than happy to see them grow into better versions of themselves. I love that we keep on creating memories like eating together at lunch or should I say HAVING A PICNIC AT THE FARM, going to the mall together, talking about each other's struggles, and a lot more! A lot of things happened too, both good and bad. I'm so grateful that during the past few years, nothing really bad happened and no one has done anything to break us apart. But looking back and narrating these stories, something is breaking: my heart.

When they became Grade 9s and every time we had our flag raising ceremony, I thought to myself, "They're growing fast." In most schools, the students who line up in the first row are the youngest. Since our school only has Grades 7 to 10, we only have four rows. As years go by, I see them move to a new row. Each time I thought, one day, they're not going to be here. In a few months, they're going to be grade 10s. I am so scared. Am I not going to see them most of the time? They are going to have their own classroom and a different homeroom teacher who is not me. Is this how moms feel when they're letting go of their kids? I'm not even their own mom. I'm afraid to see them in the last row during the flag raising ceremonies.

I started teaching in high school not too long ago. Before I began, I thought to myself, "If I were the homeroom teacher, how close could I get to my students?" Now I know the answer. I have become closer to them as much as I do with my own kid. It is really possible to love them as much as your own child.

I became a homeroom teacher and it was really a surprise. They're mixed-age: I love my adolescents from Grade 7 to 9.