MR VROEGE

"Which of your classes will matter? Will your exam matter?"

Silence.

"What matters? None of it."

We looked up at that.

"What, sir?"

"None of this matters", he said, with that same smirk on his face that we've come to know so well. 

This opening didn't really sound like him. This sudden burst into life talks. It  somehow felt like as if he was trying to reach a conclusion; a final lesson. 

Whatever you do today, tasha, you would want to remember this moment. You better listen well, and remember. Remember all of it. This is important. 

"You know what's gonna matter? Your wedding day"

The class exploded in laughter at that statement. 

"No, it's true. The day your son is born, the day your daughter is born. Those are the days that matters."

We stilled in comfortable silence as he takes the shorter chair and sits on it, crouching lowly as he has done for the past year i've been in the class. 

"Ten years down the road you're not going to be talking to the same people in this class. You're probably not gonna remember anyone. We weren't like you once. You people are busier. When i was young we were moving at 60 km/h. Now you guys are moving at 120km/h. I just need to look at my kids to know. Nowadays i go to work to rest. I'm telling you, these 2 years were too short. You're probably going to remember your high school friends more than the people in KY"

Protests echo from all sides. 

"No, we had a crappy high school life. I'm sure we'll remember people in KY more"

"I've even forgotten most of the people from my high school"

"Okay lets all barge into Mr Vroege's house in ten years time". 

"Well I know where he lives".

"Ahh I've been exposed".

More laughter. 

"Yeah sir there's even a picture to prove it".

"There's a picture? Oh no."

Laughs. 

He continues steadily, "Well, it's true. In 2/3 years there's going to be one person talking to 3/4 people in this class, in 5 years time there's going to be one person talking to one person, and in ten years time someone's going to be saying, 'whatever happened to muz?'"

"In some gutter somewhere". 

The whole class laughed again. Honestly nowadays i think that's all we do; laugh. 

"So, prove me wrong". Again, that smirk. 

But if I were to be honest, it didn't sound like a challenge. Rather, it was a promise for the future, a promise of unbroken bonds and unforgotten memories. There was a glint of pride behind those sea blue eyes that had long seen our potential before we ever recognised any ourselves; a parent's pride of watching his children about to leave the nest. And a melancholic pride of yet another batch leaving. 

"Tomorrow is about your preparation today. And the best preparation you can do today, really, is eat and sleep"

Murmurs of half-hearted disagreements filled up the air as we all grabbed our bags and packed our stuff for probably the last time ever. 

"Honestly, get plenty of rest. Wake up early tomorrow. And for that, you need to sleep early"

And with that, our feet crossed the door into the outside world. 

That was it. That was the end. No goodbyes, nothing. He came like a storm, he left like the wind. 

That lab had been our daily meet-up place, our sanctuary, for the past year. That muddy, rusty, laboratory air provided such a clear contrast to the crisp air and the warmth of sun beyond those doors. However, that class had been our medicinal dose of laughter, philosophy, fridge-magnet quotes, grammar lessons, video watching (or sleeping), and so much more. In between the ice cream tub we ripped off Iqram and the actual lessons we've learned, in remembrance of the times when our class was whole and when our numbers slowly subsided, in between the random group chats on 'fishes walking on streets', friday homeworks and 'hey are you awake' calls, from the first day i've entered to the last day of it all, everyday had been nothing short of spectacular. It was like living a movie where we were the main cast. 

I was not exaggerating when i told my mom the first week i enrolled in the class that "Mr Vroege is the teacher i've been waiting for my whole life". Because he is that, and so much more. 

Within the ever growing comfort of the four damp walls, those wooden stools, the always missing first-aid kit, the arctic temperature and those dim lights, there was a bunch of juvenile 'marine scientists' slowly warming up to each other. At the end of it i think it's safe to say that marine science taught us more than just the syllabus, cutting fishes, or 'Old British Sarcasm 101'. It taught us how to be kind to others and most importantly, to ourselves. It taught us that dedication and passion means filling up the pages of your homework because you know your teacher's still going to add lines of additional points to your answers and he deserves at least that much. It taught us that great men lead by example. It taught us of the world, and that the Brits can't make 'proper' pineapple tarts. It taught us to have an eye for detail. It taught us that good men have diaries, but great men have big diaries. It taught us to laugh our worries away for the sun still sets and brings with it a promise of a new dawn; irrespective of whether you had a bad day or not. 

It taught us that family extends beyond blood relations. And what greater lesson can you give to a child than that?

That the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. "Thank you so so much, sir. For everything, truly"

"No. Thank you for being marines".Share

Photo by Robert Magnusson on Unsplash

#lifelessons #growing