Babyla's World

 Author's Note: This is an old piece that I wrote and originally published on 4th August 2014 . A decade later, I found myself revisiting these words, memories, and emotions. Reading what I had written back then felt like opening an old diary, a reminder of the person I was, the pain I carried, and the lessons I learned along the way. I have refined and rewritten parts of it for my blog, but I have tried to preserve the honesty and emotions of the younger version of myself who first put these thoughts into words. "Some memories do not disappear with time; they simply become quieter. They stop hurting every day, but they continue reminding us of who we once were." As I tossed and turned on my king-sized bed last night, fighting a battle with sleep that refused to come, a strange thought crossed my sleep-deprived mind: perhaps it was time to start writing little pieces of my life. Not grand stories, not carefully crafted fiction, but fragments of memories, emotions, mistake...

I have always found it difficult to take a break. Even when I am tired, even when my body quietly reminds me that it needs rest, my mind continues to run through the endless list of things waiting for me. There is always another email to respond to, another responsibility to attend to, another task that feels too important to postpone. I have somehow convinced myself over the years that resting is something I can do only after everything else is completed, forgetting that there is rarely a moment when everything is truly finished. Perhaps that is why my body eventually had to make the decision for me. More than a week ago, a viral flu entered my life uninvited and decided that it was not ready to leave anytime soon. What I thought would be a short illness that would disappear after a few days of rest turned into a long and exhausting battle with fever, body aches, nausea, weakness, and a level of tiredness that made me realize how much we take our normal health for granted. At this poi...

Every year, as the college empties and the familiar rhythm of campus life slows down, people often assume that lecturers are finally enjoying a well-deserved summer or winter break. I smile when I hear that because, for some of us, the holidays exist only on the academic calendar. Since taking on the role of Programme Leader for the PgDE programme, my understanding of what a "college break" means has changed completely. While classrooms fall silent and students head home, my workload simply shifts from teaching to planning, coordinating, developing, and improving. In many ways, the work behind the scenes is even more demanding than what happens during the semester. This break has been no exception. The days have been filled with preparing for the Council for the Accreditation of Educator Preparation (CAEP) accreditation process, an undertaking that demands meticulous attention to detail, strategic planning, evidence collection, and collaboration. Every document, every policy...

On the 27th of February, I quietly stepped into my 40th year, carrying with me a lifetime of memories, lessons, and small moments that have shaped who I am today.  The number itself feels significant, almost ceremonial. Forty years of living, learning, stumbling, growing, loving, and becoming. It feels like standing at a quiet crossroads, where the past gently meets the future. When I was younger, 40 seemed so far away, like a distant mountain peak. I imagined that by this age, life would be neatly figured out, with plans perfectly in place and emotions carefully managed. But standing here today, I realize life was never meant to be neatly arranged. It is meant to be lived, experienced, questioned, and felt deeply. And I am grateful for every bit of it. Forty years have taught me that life is not about perfection. It is about resilience, about showing up again and again, even when things feel uncertain, and about carrying both joy and sorrow in the same heart. Over the years, I hav...