Ever since I was a schoolgirl, my teachers told me that I should teach.
For a good part of my life, I loathed teaching, and everyone who suggested I should become a teacher, was met with a condescending smile. Thank you, but no, Thank You!
Of course, life who is a river (and a feminine noun, if you speak Greek) wouldn’t take no for an answer.
In many occasions I was called upon to “teach” in some way: as a Cub Scout Leader, till I got married and had my own cubs; as a Greek folk dance teacher in a Greek school in England (I still remember the applause as I was called on stage at the Zorba finale); at the University when I was asked if I’d talk about Alexander the Great.
At 22 I had my own TV show, the international news programme, that counts as teaching the audience about what is going on around the earth.
Then, I became a mother, and, -calling all mums, here-,mothers are teachers, the first and most decisive in a young human’s life.
While mothering, I found it comforting and reassuring of life post-motherhood, to have access to some more teaching. I was offered to write a weekly opinion column at a national newspaper, and I did for two decades..
However, I always had in my mind that I am an intellectual, someone who puts her nose in books and discovers the critical factor X that will make a difference in people’s lives. Little did I know that I was already doing just that, and lots of it.
So, when my kids became adults, I went back to the University for a postgraduate degree. I’ll keep the fun and the agonising parts of that experience for another post.
You see, I have just finished my thesis. Research in the time of Covid for an antiquated professor in a charming Greek city where time stands still is an excruciating challenge that sucks my energy and good mood for two years, now.
And now, at last, it is done. And I’m pleased that it is done. And although I hope I shall be called to present it in the college of professors, I have received already my award. And that is ,not that I am now an accomplished post-grad of academia.
Or that I would hate spending my one precious life hidden behind dusty boos and computer screens, pretending that I care more about them than about my children, home and the latest fashion and design news.
It is that doing finally, what I always believed I should be doing, showed me that I am already doing what I am meant to do.
That realisation frees me from the result. I am glad I did it, I am ready to move on.