Sorry, I failed you. And I failed myself.

It was a normal, desperate afternoon-fading-into-the-dark while I was busy marking students' writing assignments in the staff room.

To be frank, I have long been conditioned to give assignments for the sake of giving assignments and mark them for the sake of fulfilling the requirement of book inspection. Now that the book inspection for the second term was around the corner, I had to glue myself to the desk and force myself to clear the dust-coated piles of journal writing resting in my bookshelf for ages.

I had been scanning and marking the writing mechanically. All the words flashed in my sensory memory like a photocopying machine--everything was gone once I scanned another piece of work until I read a piece of writing filled with Chinese expressions.

His words didn't make sense to me at first but then I found out that was not something usual--that was not what I expected from students' writing homework.

A F.1 student shared with me his worry about his divorced mum and her new boyfriend (which was quite serious in fact) and he said he wanted to commit suicide because of that. He wanted to talk with me about that because I was a reliable person.

My blood ran icy cold.

I quickly checked the date of writing. It was written in January--a few months ago!

A warning bell went off in my head. The image of the student who has committed suicide popped up in my mind. He ended his life partly because nobody was around him in times of desperation. He always had an air of loneliness.

With wobbly hands, I pressed the number of his class teacher's on the cell phone. As expected, his class teacher knew nothing about that--which was more worrying--and he advised me to talk with the social worker the other day.

I was so regretful that I broke into tears amid the conversation. I should have read his writing long long time ago and because I didn't have my work done properly, the student may have felt hopeless and committed suicide.

I am no reliable person indeed.

I have already lost in the overwhelming work and desperation. I lost my orientation at work. And I lost the mission and enthusiasm that a teacher should have--though there's not much to start with in the first place.

I failed him. I also failed myself.

I couldn't fall asleep that night and kept thinking about that boy. My mind was overloaded with guilt and thoughts. Maybe it's really time for me to leave and refresh myself. I've been here for too long that I worked like a Pavlovian dog. Holidays can no longer re-energize me except a new experience and a new environment.

One more year, I kept telling myself. One more year, then that's it.

I don't have any concrete plans after I finish my study overseas (if I can do so). But if I really return to this field, it tells something.

Luckily this little boy has a circle of friends and he is quite positive most of the time. He looked fine in class but people masked their inmost feeling when facing someone they don't trust.

I know deep down that he has lost his trust in me. I have also lost faith in myself.