I read some heart-warming messages about teachers posted or sent in conjunction with Teachers Day which is celebrated in Malaysia on May 16.
One teacher even sent me the Teachers Day message written by one of her students, saying this is what makes teaching so satisfying “despite work frustrations”.
It brought back memories of my own teachers.
There are two main reasons why I became a journalist and writer. One was my interest in words and writing after reading the works of the greats of literature such as Shakespeare, Wordsworth and Turgenev.
Another was the encouragement given by two of my teachers in the upper forms of my school – Miss Raja Mahtra Kamaralzaman and Miss Leow Kam Foong.
Both taught me English and English Literature at King Edward VII Secondary School in Taiping. Both were wonderfully dedicated teachers who taught their students more than what was in the books. They helped introduce the real world to us via the fictionalised world of great literature.
In Form Six, for instance, they made such works as Macbeth, King Henry IV, The Canterbury Tales and Wordsworth come alive.
They never treated students with condescension or as inferiors. Some of us, in fact, were even invited to their houses.
I remember walking, together with a couple of classmates, from Miss Leow’s house to the nearby casual market on a few occasions in the evenings or nights for meals. She would pay, of course.
I cannot forget the first time we walked along the road, not just because it was the first time I was going for a meal with my teacher but more because of something she said. She told me to walk to the right of her so that she was nearest the road edge, saying: “A gentleman always walks on the outside to protect the woman.”
Till today, I always walk on the outer side whenever I am with a woman – whether it’s my wife or nieces or friends or whosoever. And invariably, when I do this, I remember her.
I would sometimes discuss books that I had read with her. For instance, when I read Turgenev’s Fathers and Sons, which I had borrowed from the school library in Form Five, we had a short discussion about nihilism as we walked towards the food stall.
Raja Mahtra introduced me to Charles Shultz’s cartoon strip, Peanuts, at her house. She was an avid fan of Peanuts but when I first read it – I was in Form Five then – I couldn’t quite understand her enthusiasm for it. However, after reading a few of her Peanuts books, I began to appreciate the subtle humour and life lessons.
Raja Mahtra elicited extra attention from the boys and male teachers because she loved to wear short skirts. And she drove a sports car. We boys noted how a couple of men teachers always loved to be around her.
My classmates and I also followed with keen interest the courting of Miss Leow by my Form Four class teacher Mr Michael Moey.
Miss Leow and Miss Raja Mahtra got me involved in debating and the school’s drama society, resulting in me acting in a couple of plays that the school put up, including Witness for the Prosecution. That helped me write scripts for skits that my classmates and I performed during school variety shows.
Both told me, separately, that I should consider a career in journalism. And I did.
Teacher Raja Mahtra has passed on and Miss Leow moved to Australia some years ago.
Do we still have such teachers around? Teachers who don’t just rush to complete the syllabus but who teach you to become a better person?
There were others too, such as Mr Lim Eng Keat, a rather lean man, who had been given the name “Abang Kartun” long before he taught me science. He was a great teacher, although sometimes he could become monotonous.
I recall Mr Chia Swee Hua, my mathematics teacher in Form Four who was called “jelo” because that is how he pronounced “zero”.
Everyone in school those days was well aware of Mr U Ravinder Singh, the school’s senior assistant. He was feared by everyone and disliked by some. The History teacher was known as “junjong” because he wore a turban.
I always wondered why students feared him because his physical appearance was far from intimidating. He was quite wiry, in fact. When I enquired, I was told he was very fierce. Certainly he would brook no nonsense and would tell off any student in front of everyone if he was not satisfied. I saw him smile only twice in class during the two years that he taught me.
But he had a kind streak which I found out much later. He gave RM500 to a classmate who had a place in university but was contemplating not going because he did not have the money even for the initial expenses.
After I started working, I would occasionally visit my former teachers in the school. Once, I asked him how he felt about being feared. He said it did not bother him so long as his students studied well. He added: “Let them hate, so long as they fear.”
Only later did I discover that he had quoted Caligula, the profligate Roman Emperor.
However, Mr Ravinder was a dedicated teacher, as were Miss Foo Fatt Yeow and Miss Yeap Gaik Khoon. The former taught Geography and the latter, History. They were both very prim and proper and although almost mechanical in their work, they would take extra pain to make us understand.
Mr Francis Chang was the school sports secretary and a favourite of most students. He was the only one who could ride his Lambretta all over the school field without being reprimanded by the principal.
Another sports master, Lim Ah Sau, was famous for calling students who did anything wrong “numbskull”. He also coached the school rugby team.
I trained for athletics and cross-country runs under Encik Ahmad Ishan Pa’ Chik, a genial man. He would make us run about a mile up the steep road on Maxwell’s Hill on Sundays. Most of us would make half-a-mile non-stop but the legs would refuse to carry us further after that.
Encik Fadzil Noordin and Encik Wazir Md Jihin coached us in rugby and football. No one messed with Mr V Muthu Karuppan because he was a judo expert. People would hurriedly make way if he walked by. But he was really a gentle chap and got along well with everyone.
In Form Six, Mr Francis Ho not only made economics interesting, he got along splendidly with the students.
During one of the Old Edwardians’ dinner, I spotted Puan Azizah Wali Mohd who had taught me Bahasa Melayu and walked up to her to ask how she was. She stared at me before saying: “I remember you… You were the one who used to write cheeky essays.”
Art teacher Encik Razak Osman became a friend in later years, visiting me for Deepavali or meeting in a coffee shop for a drink. I would visit him too and he would regale me with stories about his youth. He too has passed on.
I recall other teachers in secondary such as Miss Esther Chan, Miss Quah Kim Teng and Mr Edmund Gabriel.
No story about my school would be complete without mentioning principal Long Heng Hua, a legend in his time. As he deserves a column for himself, I’ll write about him in my next column.
Although I cannot remember the names of most of my primary school teachers I still remember those who left an impression: Mr Jeffrey Leerdam, Mr Murugaya, Miss Ng Poh Liang, Miss Looi Saw Sew and Miss Khoo Sin Nya who would play the piano while we sang the Negaraku.
As they say, those were the days indeed.
In conjunction with Teachers Day, and as King Edward VII School celebrates its 140th anniversary, I would like to thank all my teachers for teaching and guiding me.
The children of these teachers should feel proud that their father or mother won so much respect and even love.
Today’s column is also dedicated to dedicated teachers everywhere with love. God bless you all for the wonderful work you do. - FMT
The views expressed are those of the writer and do not necessarily reflect those of MMKtT.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.