“Education is not the filling of a pail, but the lighting of a fire.”

Dedication

I want to dedicate this book to my parents first. Their quiet strength, discipline, and beliefs built the foundation of my life. They taught me the values of honesty, hard work, and humility, which have helped me in both my personal and professional life. I grew up in a tiny home in Guyana with my mother, father, and brother. Early on, I understood that character development is not solely based on possessions, but also on responsibility, caring for others, and consistency.

I dedicate this work to my husband and two girls, who have always been there for me and given me a sense of purpose. Their tolerance, compassion, and support made it possible for me to be dedicated to both my family and my job. My family was there for me through many years of labor, learning, and growth, which made teaching possible and important.

This devotion is also for my pupils, both past and current, who trusted me to teach them. I learned as much from them as they learned from me. Their interest, problems, questions, and successes confirmed my opinion that education is more than just a job; it’s a calling based on service and compassion.

Finally, I want to thank all the teachers who keep working quietly, calmly, and faithfully, thinking that teaching kids is one of the important things someone can do for society.

“The child is the father of the man.”

Phase 1: Roots in Guyana — The Quiet Beginning of a Calling

My story begins in Guyana, where I grew up in a small family of four that taught me about life, responsibilities, and where I fit in. My family was made up of my mother, father, brother, and me. We didn’t have a lot of money or fancy things, but we did have a household that was based on discipline, morals, and quiet stability. We lived in the city section of Guyana, where life flowed at a steady pace and people valued education as a way to find stability and self-respect. At the time, those early years didn’t seem special, but they set the stage for everything that came after.

It felt natural for me to learn from the first day of school. I liked being in the classroom and listening, watching, and taking part. School wasn’t challenging; instead, it was a place where I could learn and be curious. I recall my kindergarten years, not due to receiving trophies or accolades, but because it was during that time that someone first recognized something unique about me. My kindergarten teacher saw that I had a strange talent for managing, explaining, and leading others, even at that young age. She would leave me in control when she left the room. Without even thinking about it, I would write on the board, monitor the other children, and maintain silence and focus in the class. I didn’t know how important this duty was at the time, but my teacher did. She talked to my parents and told them that I was gifted in teaching.

This impulse persisted at home without any effort or guidance. I would set up fake classrooms and teach everything that was around me, like trees, furniture, or boards. I taught everything that could serve as a subject or an audience. It didn’t feel like work to teach; it felt like fun. I expressed my ideas clearly, revisited the lessons, and took the role of a teacher very seriously. Now that I think about it, I see that the culprit wasn’t imitation but inclination. Even then, I wanted to share what I knew, put my thoughts in order, and help others understand. This early desire, as natural as it was, would not last.

My view started to shift when I started high school. Adolescence made me more aware of my social status, my job, and how people assessed success. I started to look at my instructors more critically, not as mentors, but as individuals who were living their lives. 

“We judge ourselves by what we feel capable of doing, while others judge us by what we have already done.”

Phase 2 : Distance from the Calling — Ambition, Perception, and the Desire for Security

As I became older in high school, my inner world started to change in small but important ways. Childhood, with its ease and natural happiness, slowly gave place to consciousness. I began to observe not just what was on the board, but also how adults lived, how society worked, and the rules of respect and success. This was the point at which my desire to succeed first became obvious. I wanted things to stay the same. I wanted to feel safe. I wanted a future that looked safe and important to society. During that time, the happiness I had felt about teaching slowly faded away.

Perception is quite powerful during the teenage years. I started to see education through a lens that wasn’t based on its objective but on how it looked from the outside. I watched my teachers intently, not as guides or mentors, but as people going about their regular lives. Some of them went to school on foot. Some people didn’t have cars. Many people lived simply, without the apparent signs of success that I had learned to identify with when I was younger. I didn’t doubt their commitment or their knowledge, but I did doubt what life might teach me. At that point, I thought that advancement meant having stable finances and being recognized by others. Sadly, teaching didn’t fit into that picture.

This change didn’t happen all at once. It took time and careful observation. I observed that banking, insurance, and business environments all appeared organized, professional, and financially stable. I observed that individuals in business environments were well-organized, professional, and financially stable. They looked attractive, walked with confidence, and seemed to be well-liked by others. These impressions were vital to me. I would rather not live a life of trouble or doubt. I desired freedom, respect, and a sense of value for my work. On the other hand, teaching started to feel like it was holding me back. I began to pull away from something that had always come to me without even noticing it.

“Experience is a hard teacher because she gives the test first, the lesson afterward.”

Phase 3 : Entering the World of Work — Discipline, Responsibility, and the Shaping of Character

I didn’t start Phase 3 of my life with a clear plan; I started it out of necessity. I was ready to go on after finishing high school and getting six subjects on the General Certificate O-Level in 1979. But I had to stop my studies for a while because of the situation. My parents couldn’t send me to college right away, so I had to obtain a job. Instead of dwelling on this disappointment currently, I accepted it as an inevitable part of life. I knew that sometimes duty comes before desire and that life frequently requires us to cooperate before it lets us move forward.

The law courts were where I got my first job. When I entered the establishment, I truly felt I had transitioned into an adult engaged in employment rather than remaining a student. The law courts were strict, official, and well-organized. Accuracy was important. Being on time was important. What you did mattered. Every job came with a duty, and every error had a result. The daily routine swiftly reinforced the need for attention and discipline in this place. I worked there for four years, and throughout that time, my ideas about work, obligation, and professionalism changed without me realizing it.

I learned how important it is to be exact and keep things private in the law courts. I learned how systems work, how rules keep things fair, and how people help keep an institution’s integrity. There wasn’t much room for mistakes. Even minor things had a lot of weight. This atmosphere encouraged me to value structure and order, which would subsequently affect how I thought about schools and places to learn. At the time, I didn’t understand it, but these early professional habits—being responsible, paying attention to details, and being consistent—were the building blocks of my future work ethic.

After four years, I left the law courts and started working for the National Insurance Board. This change gave me more responsibilities and a better appreciation of public service. I worked at the National Insurance Board for five years, where I worked with systems that help individuals when they need it. Precision, sensitivity, and justice were essential aspects of the job. 

Note of Thanks

With all my heart, I want to thank everyone who has been a part of my journey. This autobiography is not the result of one person’s work; it is the result of many lives, situations, and relationships that have molded my life over the years. Every experience, good or bad, helped shape the person and teacher I am today.

I am truly grateful to my family for their support, patience, and understanding, which let me follow my vocation without reservation. During tough times, their support provided me strength and reminded me of how important it is to have balance, love, and responsibility. I am also thankful for my pupils, who trusted me with their education and let me develop with them. Their interest, strength, and willpower always made me want to educate with care and dedication.

I also want to thank my coworkers, administrators, and the schools that gave us places to teach and learn. Their teamwork and trust showed how important it is to receive an education based on discipline, empathy, and honesty. I am grateful to the church communities that helped me with my job outside of school, which strengthened my view that service and compassion should guide my actions.

Lastly, I want to thank everyone who reads this article and thinks about it. These pages have fulfilled their purpose if they encourage you to think, practice patience, or develop a greater respect for education.

Thank You
– Dr. Eleanor Welch