Asharil

10094 pts · October 14, 2014

A confession from me to you. As a teacher, I fear I am educating the next generation that will fight in the next great war since WW2. Having taught well over a thousand kids, I remember most if not all of their faces. I love all of them as if they are my own, having gotten to know them so well over the years. Many I keep in touch with, some on a deeply personal level. I share in their joys and grief with them in their time of sorrow. And here I am, dreading the future more and more, thinking about the real possibility their light might be taken out of this world. Their lives taken because of inconvenient politics or the causes of old men with grudges. But mostly I fear surviving this atrocity, having to live in a world that grows darker with their passing. One day I will have to live with the fact that my memories of them will fail in the end, having since long forgotten their faces, names and accomplishments. Their triumphs and their struggles. I fear that will be the point when I will give up doing what I love most in life, to teach and to guide. To be the parental figure some of them so desperately need. I fear this future that might very well break me because of my compassion. Please world, do not dissappoint me.