From the "Unnamed" to the "Nigh Infamous"

​Whenever my journey in the hallowed halls of the IB is broached, the inevitable question arises, flitting about like a socially awkward butterfly at a summer garden party. The subsequent conversation often seems like a scene stolen from 'Waiting for Godot': "So, you’ll move on to bigger roles?" "No." "Why ever not?" "Still waiting for Godot.” Ah, the classic deflection! This persistent query, looming like the proverbial sword of Damocles, often springs from the lips of some well-meaning HR savant who believes they've stumbled upon the hidden depths of my talents. How gracious of them!

But, you see, when faced with such interrogations, I usually lean into a sly grin and gracefully sidestep. For I've chosen to remain, by design, entrenched in the world of literature. Not because I'm oblivious to promotions, but because, in the very marrow of my being, I'm a poet. I dance to the unsung rhythm of silence and savor the secretive murmurs of the fall leaves.

Sure, administrative roles offer a bird's-eye view, perhaps even a plush chair and a swankier office. But can they compare to the sheer enchantment of seeing a young mind utterly smitten by a sonnet or a story? The classroom, for me, is akin to a live theatre where Shakespeare's musings coalesce with a teen's daydream. My raison d'être is not merely to recite literary classics, but to mold the very souls who, I hope, will one day pen them.

*Well, as they say, the proof is in the pudding! And oh boy, have my students whipped up a decadent dessert! Here, feast your eyes on the culinary... I mean, poetic masterpieces these future Shakespeares have whipped up in the kitchen... err, classroom. Bon appétit... or should I say, happy reading!