Expose yourself to many possibilities; I was once a tutor for my neighbour’s kids

Over the past 10 or so years, Brema Oyalo, my high school biology teacher, and I have been trying to figure out ‘what went wrong’. The thing is, I was among the best-performing students in biology in my class. My performance averaged a B+.

I honestly enjoyed biology classes. Ms Brema is a gifted teacher, and I love her because, overall, she is a good person. We are friends on Facebook and in real life, we follow each other on Instagram and talk on the phone when needed.

Last Friday, she shared my column on her Facebook timeline, cheering me on, in her usual fashion but asking the age-old question: “Just how did you drift into writing?”

Going by just how much I was devoted to my biology classes, which my performance in KCSE exam attested to, Ms Brema had visualised me in a career not far away from being a biology teacher, at the very least.

My column today is a sort of ‘coming out’ piece, with nothing but the whole truth; and an ode to the most inspiring Ms Brema.

When I look back now, I realise the reason I enjoyed writing biology essays was that I enjoyed telling stories. Ms Brema taught in such a way that I fully understood and could vividly remember the sympathetic nervous system, for example, months after she taught.

Fun

It was fun to write about all the bones in the body and what they do or explain the process of digesting tofu (a plant-based protein), from mastication to absorption.

The lab sessions were awesome, not to mention the pieces of tomatoes (read specimen) my classmates and I would sneakily eat in the lab sometimes. And on top of that, two or so years after high school, I was the biology tutor for some neighbour’s kids who struggled with biology.

However, besides writing essays about body processes, and answering many questions in my chemistry and biology classes, I was also enjoying my literature classes, writing movie scripts, and participating in the debate club.

At home, I was surrounded by magazines, newspapers and books, which I enjoyed reading. It was easy for me to see what I could do with my writing passion beyond school.

That also explained why, as early as when I was in Form Three, my friend Mwajuma and I wrote a letter to Caroline Njung’e, the current Chief Production Editor at Nation Media Group (who then wrote a monthly youth column for Parent’s Magazine).

I don’t remember the content of the letter, which she swears she did not receive, but I suspect that letter was my earliest signpost of what career I would pursue. There was also a period I was convinced I would study law, but that is a story for another day.

Ms Brema had a dream for me. She was both a teacher and a mentor. I was very close to her, so she had a significant influence on my life. And perhaps if she had convinced my parents that a “science brain” like mine should go for a Stem course, she’d have had a good case.

But I think even then, Ms Brema knew that I would turn out right, regardless of what I studied in university. And I am glad that, while she had a dream for me, she didn’t close her mind to other things I could become.

Identity foreclosure

Identity foreclosure, or the inability to rethink is a risk. Organisational Psychologist Adam Grant – in his TedTalk: What Frogs in hot water can teach us about thinking again – says when you settle prematurely on a sense of who you are and close your mind to other possibilities (essentially what identity foreclosure is) it can lead to tunnel vision.

In this case, identity foreclosure happens when a parent or teacher prematurely decides what career their child should pursue based on a few variables such as their performance in a particular subject, and a parent’s own biases.

What happens in this scenario is that parents who have decided that their child must be a computer scientist, for example, will invest more in computer-related activities, and limit the child’s exposure to other possibilities.

This can lead to frustration or just losing out on other opportunities because such a child grows up with a limited view of what they can be. In a nutshell, do not be too hung up. Some of the jobs high school students will do, do not even exist today.

The writer is the research editor, NMG ([email protected]).