85 and still going strong | Hannah

I have to write a reflective essay for the module British Arts in Context. We had to write as if we were 85 and looking back at the module and the way we taught it ourselves. I got a bit too excited an wrote this. This is only the beginning. Part two is coming soon. Enjoy!

‘Bye honey!’ Called Amanda, while getting in the car. It was 8 pm on a Monday evening. Amanda and Nick would stay in a cottage nearby this year. Her daughter Sam was already inside and Oliver, Sam’s little brother, waved enthusiastically to his mom and then ran into the living room. I took my time to close and lock the door and walked after Oliver into the house. 85 and still going strong, I thought to myself, smiling. The living room was bright, light and airy looking. I loved it here. I loved it even more when my children or grandchildren came to visit. I loved to be surrounded by people and now that my teaching days were way over, sometimes I missed being surrounded by people. Oliver had just had his birthday weekend. This meant that the summer holidays had started as his birthday was the 15th of june. Sam and Oliver, my daughter Amanda’s kids, came over for a week ever since Oliver was one year old. They loved it here as much as I did, maybe even more. It was always an adventure to have them over. Our beautiful house near the sea in Brighton was spacious and like a playground to these kids. It was amazing to see them grow and develop. Sam was 16 years old and stuck right in the middle of puberty. I saw her struggling to find herself, but I also saw her strong character coming through.

My thoughts were interrupted as the voice of my 12 year old grandson came from the attic: ‘Grandma?! I found an old box with old movies and papers and it says ‘uni’ on the top. Can I bring it down stairs?’

‘Sure, peach. Be careful, though, it might be heavy.’
I heard stumbling and a few minutes later Oliver stood in the middle of the living room with a box as big as his torso in his hands. ‘Put it on the floor over here. We can have a look at what is inside.’

‘Yes, let’s see if there are any stories inside.’ He says eager. Somewhere in the time I became a grandma, I also became a storyteller. My grandchildren loved the stories I told. It was so wonderful to bond with them and see them marvel at the stories I told them about the past. When he put down the box, I see that there is a stray movie on top of it. ‘Did you get this out?’ When I pick it up and see the front cover, I laugh. ‘Where did you get this from, then?’

‘It was in the box. Why do you have an old film with naked men on the cover, grandma?’ I snicker and feel young again. I blush just a little bit. Of course I got picked to watch this film, I think to myself, smiling. ‘That box is the box containing everything I have left from when I was in university in Leeuwarden to become an English teacher. That film is a film I had to watch and write a review about.’

‘Why did you have to write it? Couldn’t you just look it up online?’

‘No, silly, I had to write down what I thought about it, myself. Do you want me to explain?’

‘Yes, please! And can I see the film?!’
I chuckled and coughed. ‘I think you are a little bit too young for this film.’
His face dropped. ‘Sorry, sweetie, you can pick another film this afternoon and we can watch it okay?’

‘Can it be a Disney film?’

‘Not a Disney film, pleeease.’ Shouted Sam from the other room. She walked in, with her nose in a book.

‘Peter Pan?’ Asked Oliver with his eyes big and puppy like. His sister looked up from her book and smiled. ‘Oh, alright, then. But I want to hear grandma talk first, so be quiet, you!’ She fake-threatened him.
He grinned wildly, while jumping up on the couch beside me. Sam sat down in the big armchair Michael, my husband, always sat in. He was out with our dog, so it gave us the time for storytelling. I could see them being excited, even Sam, who was trying very hard to not be interested too much. She tried to be a ‘grown-up’ as she thought she should be, but also still kind of being a child. It was endearing to watch.

‘You both know that I was a teacher, of course.’ As I wrote books for middle schoolers taking English and for English teachers alike, they knew about my life as a teacher. ‘This box has 4 years of memories, pictures and notes and what not, from when I was studying. What I really remember from the course is that, when I was a young teacher myself, I was about 30 year old I think, I remember contacting my teachers that taught me the course, if I could have the materials so I could teach it myself.’

Sam was staring at me in awe, probably wondering why I would ever want to contact an old teacher, and Oliver was looking confused.

‘But, grandma, why didn’t you just make something up?’ He asked.

‘You can’t just make something up, silly. That’s not how it works. You have to prepare stuff.’

Oliver looked at his sister like he couldn’t believe what she was saying. ‘You know how it works?’ He asked, him being the one in awe this time. ‘Do you want to be a teacher?’

Sam quickly looked down in her lap. ‘No.. maybe, I don’t know.’

I put my hand on Sam’s hand and smile at her encouragingly. ‘If you listen carefully maybe you can pick something up from this.’ I winked at her.

Less than three,

A teacher to be,

Hannah