The Career Graph So Far...

This post is a winner at the Blogadda "My Dream Job" Contest. July 30, 2010.

I have had my dream job since I was eight. I am one of those lucky persons who did not have torun after a job they might like..Rather my dream job landed into my lap by kismet. So, the other day I saw this email from Blogadda and it mentioned “share your dream job and you never know you might get it after you let us know.” A lot of us will be excited to hear this, and I thought since I already have my dream job, who knows, sharing it might give me a chance to excel in it. So here is a reminiscent of my time on my job.

Image courtesy: http://www.hanselman.com/

I was five (or six), playing teacher-teacher in Thakuma’s bedroom, all alone. One of the walls which served as the blackboard was adorned with illegible scribblings, and my pupils (the stools and the chairs) listened to me in silence. I asked a question to one of the wooden chair, who failed to answer. That resulted in his ears being pulled out firmly, and hit by a cane brutishly.

My dad who was sitting at the desk, looked up from his work when he could no longer bear to see the sufferings of the poor chair at my hand. He pulled me up, sat me on his lap, and on enquiry received an animated explanation from me about the aforementioned chair’s consistent failings in the classroom and subsequent justified caning. Dad nodded, “Beta if you want to be good at your job, you might consider sparing the cane and explaining the subject in a simpler way. Now you do want to be a god teacher, don’t you?” I nodded vehemently, and he added, more intently this time, “Remember, no matter what you want to be in life, teacher or doctor, the first thing you would want to be is a good human being, ”I looked up at him, blankly, not realizing the actual meaning of his words.

“Which school do I have to go, Dad, to be… er… that?” I asked. Dad smiled, more humorously this time, “You don’t have to, Beta, you will learn it yourself.”

“So, would you help me to be one?”

“I can guide you, but it is you who have to do the job.” He went back to his work.

And I started working on the job to be a ‘good human being’.

I was ten, I received the paper for an algebra class test, and it read 00/20 in red. I showed the paper to mom, and she wailed for the next half an hour (longer than I regretted for the poor marks), cursed all the 33 crore God, who conspiratorially handed her down a stupid girl who would not turn up to do anything good in life. I sobbed, and cried, and said sorry that I failed them. Dad was calm. Later when the noise level came down to tolerable level (so that each one can hear the other in the room) he said, “Beta, its Ok if you get bad score in one of the tests. You can always try harder next time. What matters most is that you be a good human being, and that will make us very proud.” Those words again. He told the same the other day when I was dressing up for a friend’s birthday party, discarding one dress after another, unsatisfied with the reflection in the mirror. He consoled, “Wear anything, and and as long you have a good heart, you will feel the prettiest.”

So, by the age of nine or ten, I realized that the way to success is to be a good human being. “And what a easy job that is”, contended I thought. It was definitely easier to be a good human being than getting 20/20 in Algebra.

I was 15, playing lock-n-key in the school playground. My friend tripped on a stone and fell on the ground on her face. While others laughed, I ran to her, helped her to stand on her feet, and asked if she is OK. The appreciation in her eyes that day taught me the reward you get for being a good human being. I did not feel bad that I was not the most popular girl in the school, not the prettiest or the cleverest. I rather felt pride when I was called the most kind of all. I felt happiest and imagined a pair of colorful wings coming out of the back of my body (just like my favourite character Captain Haddock thinks each time he manages to do a kind job).

Life in school was simple, living with parents at home was even simpler. Being the daughter of a preeminent person and coming from a well-known family allowed me to enjoy certain advantages in life, and I could afford to be nice and kind to others without putting myself into much inconvenience. Then the time came when I had to move to another part of the country, to start my University education. Living in college dorms with other girls, leading a life where nobody knows anything about me other than my name was difficult. My primary job started to suffer. Though I managed to achieve some brownie points occasionally, there were other incidents when I realized that a hint of a new pair of horns was stemming out of the temple of my head.

So the day I discovered that the girl who I thought was my best friend was talking behind my back, I did not react kindly. Or the days when a girl refused to return the money she borrowed from me, or I suspected my drawer was searched and my note book had gone missing for more than two days, I was less than angelic in my behaviour. By the end of my 1st year in college the horns were in full view for everybody to see. And then there was this time when I wrote a full answer on my question paper and passed it to a friend during the university exam, as I was scared he might fail the exam otherwise. Though a shiver runs down my spine each time I think of that juvenile reckless behavior, the horns and the wings enjoyed connubial bliss on that day. (This best friend later turned against me, teaching me an important lesson in life: nobody in life is worth brandishing your horns for, but that is another story). There were other times when the wings fought with the horns, each trying to outdo the others, claiming authority. But I would spare the details here.

I finished my studies, and started teaching in a University. I studied to help people with hearing disabilities, but over the years decided that I could do something better than just be a direct care-giver. So I opted to teach and help students who will in the future go out in the world and help to make a few lives better. Though at times I might have lost my patience with my students, but mostly, I would like to believe, I performed well in my primary job and my students and colleagues would possibly remember me as a good human being.

A lot of incidents came crowded in my mind when I was writing this post, some still very fresh in mind, and others half forgotten. On those times, when the horns prevailed over the wings, I avoided my Dad’s gaze, as things were often more complicated than explaining the fault of a simple wooden chair. In retrospect, I feel that I might not have done brilliantly well in my job, but I trust I have done fairly well.

Today I am on the right side of 30, and with maturity, I realized that things are not always black and white. The horns are still there (and they serve pretty well to keep the halo in place). The colors of the wings are little faded here and there, but they still flutter as beautifully as they did that afternoon on the school playground.

This post is in response to the blogadda contest (powered by Pringoo).