I am probably one of the most humbled individuals you can find these days. Not often in life do you truly understand what drives people with passion to do what they do. I only now believe that I am beginning to understand the lesson of preparing one's self for their own potential - even if they do not quite know what that potential is...
In reflecting upon the life of a recently-deceased and beloved woman, whom I found to be contraversial, epitomizing the regimented discipline of the "old school" way of proving one's self academically amongst a new school of laissez-faire, renegade (almost) educators, I found myself longing for the lessons of what she had to offer me and the hundreds of young men and women who were, either directly or indirectly, pupils in her vast classroom. For 18 years running, she was the "Master" and her students were loyal to their sensai. Her weapon of choice for battle - which she passed down to her pupils through a steady, faithfully-administered diet - was a gigantic, bigger-than-life belief in the capability of her students to be the brightest, most-capable and accomplished research scientists coming out of the university systems of their era. She believed that excellence, exceptionality was not something that happened by chance. Rather, it was something that happened as a direct result of calculated, and disciplined repetitions. So, as a result, "hers" were expected to spend the extra time attending seminars that exemplified a glorious kind of passing-of-the-baton from one generation or cohort to the next. They were on a time-table and while some critics accused her of ruling with an iron fist, in actuality, this petite woman somehow "commanded" the respect of her students - and the attention (and, in some instances, the envy) of everyone else that came in contact with her.
If anything, one could truly say of her that she was so convinced of her convictions about the potential of her students and the way in which she was taking them - committed to taking the journey with each one beyond the few, short years she was entrusted with them - she absolutely refused to be distracted from her task, her purpose. I always admired her for that and, in a way, I feel that her legacy proved the fact that "her way" was absolutely right - as it always does. Legacy, that is.
Now, when I am faced with the question of whether or not a regimen or a schedule or some sort of concerted effort on my part is actually necessary for me to accomplish anything - meaning, even the smallest of tasks - I recall the conviction with which the proud, petite giant-of-a-woman would say to me, "I tell my students 'It's ridiculous! Of course you [my students] can be there with the best of them!'" Then she would run through the coveted wall of her former students, from over more than a decade ago, and provide individual updates on their accomplishments since having graduated from the University.
And I recall that the key to her success, her legacy, and consequently, the legacy of those who chose to believe her, was in being purposeful in her pursuit of being as good as any other person who achieved something great. She would say that the reason why her students were able to leave the University to go on to bigger and better things was because she made them commit to their own success - whether or not they wanted it. If they were going to reap the benefits of participating in her program, they would necessarily have to even feign belief in their ability. But, like it or not, they would practice their craft, what an accomplished presenter looked like, acted like, how he or she conducted his or her self. After a while, even the clumsiest participant was still far better off than most other peers. And this is what I affectionately consider to be her brand of "discipline." That is, self-discipline. Because ultimately, it was the implementation of what was instilled in her pupils, after they had moved on, that has continued to propel them forward.
We salute you, Dr. Fatma Helmy. May you rest in peace.
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