DAY 1
6:30 a.m. My alarm goes off. I fight the urge to go back to sleep and get up, as quietly as possible, so as not to wake my roommates. I stretch a bit, climb down from the double-deck bed, and extend my right foot to search for my slippers on the floor. Aha. Found them. I walk over to where our food is stacked and rustle up my sachet of coffee, chocolate spread, bread, and vitamins. I turn the doorknob slowly. Squeak. I look behind me and see that they are still asleep. I put my stuff down on the table and go lose a penny. I fix my coffee and spread some chocolate on my bread. I take a few sips and feel the caffeine doing what it does best: wake me up. The clock says 6:50.
“Already?!” I tell myself. I get up and gather my things. Once more I enter the room without a sound. Shower time.
7:10. It takes me 20 minutes to shower. Now I reenter the room and my hands do all the seeing as it is still quite dark. My roommate stirs, checks her mobile phone, and tries to go back to sleep. I open my cabinet door and look for what to wear today. My roommate moves again, gets up, and drags herself sleepily out the door. Finally, I can turn on the light.
7:30. I leave the flat and walk to the LRT station. It takes 3-5 minutes. I get off after four stations and transfer to the MRT red line. I get off at the third stop to transfer, yet again, to the green line. The building just right outside Tiong Bahru station is where I work.
8:25. My heart beats faster as I approach our building. I take the lift to get to the third floor. Ding. Going out of the lift, I take a deep breath. I turn left at the corner. I remove my shoes and greet the teacher at the door: “Good morning.” But it sounds like a whisper, she does not hear, so I just smile as I clock in.
8:30 right on the dot. My day starts.
I am handling three kids with special needs. Each is different from the others. The first boy comes the earliest and stays until 17:30. The second comes and stays only in the morning. The third comes three times a week, and only in the afternoon. He’s my favorite, and besides the fact that we’re of the same nationality, he is the easiest to handle. At 17:30, I leave the Child Care Centre.
Repeat for Days 2-100.
That’s my routine. For three months I did the same thing every day, repeating what I did the previous day. I dreaded every hour with my students. Daily for three months, I wished that they’d get sick or go on vacation or something.
When repetition happens daily, it’s like losing the meaning of life. You forget your purpose. You lose interest and you’ll let each day pass without trying to do anything significant. It’s like saying a word over and over again: At some point in the repetition, the word will lose its meaning and your tongue will get all tied up because you wonder if it’s still a word in the dictionary. Like when you write a word over and over again, you’ll think: Is the spelling even correct? So you’ll go and check Google.
For three months I lost my passion. The flame was doused, and all I was left with was smoke. I was the smoke, and I just drifted in the air, not knowing where to go. I wanted to fly back home and never return.
I had only myself. Who else would help me but myself, right? Wrong. My eyes were so tightly shut that I didn’t see the people around me. They were there to break the excruciatingly boring routine. It was only a matter of where to focus. For three months I dealt with all the negative things that were happening. It was only after the third month that I was slapped in the face by the question: “Why not look at your blessings?” So I looked at the past events—and instantly saw that the good things were heavier than the bad.
We are so good at complaining that we forget to be grateful for the good things. Such as: In working overseas, I became independent. I’ve learned how to handle and solve problems without worrying too much. I’ve also learned that if I worry too much, I’d only make the problem worse. It took me three months to figure that out.
It’s challenging to work abroad and do everything on your own (cook, go grocery-shopping, do the laundry, budget funds, etc.). It can be scary, but once you’ve overcome the fear, you’ll find that you can do everything with eyes closed.
That’s the good side of this daily routine. You become so used to what you’re doing that you master it, and you feel that your life abroad has become fun and easy. Now I always say to myself: “I will succeed.”
Ma. Karmela Talusan, 22, is a learning support teacher in Singapore.