Like holding your breath

My kali teacher stopped by my class on Monday. I know I shouldn't be nervous. And I know he isn't really there to judge me on my teaching ability. He's just there to meet my students and say hi. But I can't help but be nervous. My breathing was shallow, I kept looking to the door to see if he had come yet. I hadn't told my students that he was coming. Better that they not know.

He's come by my classes two or three times before over the years. He comes, and sits quietly. Maybe he walks around the room taking in the layout of the venue. It's the sitting and watching that's nervewracking. I know that at some point he will say something or instruct my students to do something. And so we all wait.

Then he will notice something, teach a bit, demonstrate some. And I relax somewhat. The tension of silence is over at least. My students sense the tension too. They want to do well, show him that I have taught them well. Impress the teacher's teacher. Frustration is palpable. Only Tuhan's (Master) voice is the only thing heard in between the sounds of shuffling feet and clacking sticks. I feel as those every movement is scrutinize. Which in some sense it is, but not for the intent that I think. He's always watching and observing learning from how other people learn. The fear in me wells up and I wonder if I should really be teaching, wonder if I'm leading my students in the right direction.

He usually has to leave before class is done. Then I can finally take a full breath. He's a very intense man sometimes. Though more often he is not.

I chat with him afterwards online. We talk about the class and what he observed. He's really there to help me, be a second set of eyes. He tells me he is amazed to see his style being taught and it being taught well. I am relieved. He is not a man who lies, much less tells you something other than what he believes in.

When I received the title of Gura, I didn't teach right away. It was something I had to get used to and slowly enough believe in. The kind of thing where you think I can't possibly know enough, which is true, but that kind of logic leaves you never knowing enough to do anything. But that was the irony, when I became Gura I knew as much as I can know without becoming a teacher. It would take becoming a teacher that would allow me to learn more. I waited a year until time and circumstance created a door so big, I had to walk through. And now it's 4 years later.

There are times I feel lost. I'm not exactly sure where to go, what to teach, how to teach it. It was kind of nice having Tuhan there and watching him teach my students. How I had forgotten to try these other techniques and add these other philosophies.

We discuss the other teachers and their classes and what I observe about them. It becomes a study of psychology, understanding how competition between students and teachers both hinders and pushes them. We both learn much from our conversation.

It's like being on a path where you can't see the road but you have contact with other people you think are on the same journey. You ask them what do they see and you tell them the same. Eventually, you come to see similar markers and road signs. And you don't feel so lost anymore.