My History Teacher – Mr. Manjit Singh in Form 2

History had been an enjoyable subject since primary school. It was fun listening to the tales, stories, narrations of victories, downfalls and the changes through the centuries. The teachers made the subject so interesting. We listened with awe to the wonderful tales around the world. In addition they added their opinions. That was what made History so interesting.

We knew the story of Emperor Shi Huang Ti, Hitler, Napoleon, Rasputin the mad monk and many great people.

It was only in form 2 that my love for History faded. It was not because of the subject but rather the teacher.

We were in the afternoon session; Form 1 and 2 were in the afternoon due to the congestion; even now. The other forms were and are in the morning. You can imagine the heat and tiredness in the afternoon. Most of us hated the afternoons and especially History class. It was more because of the boring method then.

Mr. Manjit Singh had the usual method of teaching; very predictable. He would enter the class and we would be ready with the textbooks and the exercise books on the desks. If we forgot or slow in doing so, we would be scolded.

When everything was ready, he would then ask us to turn to a certain page. His instructions were: underline what he read and copy those important facts into the notebooks or exercise book. After that we had to read the copied facts quietly. We would be punished otherwise; if we talked or made any nose.

I remembered the eventful afternoon; it was warm and humid, I mean terribly weather. The two rickety fans rattled and turned slowly. As usual we tried to keep awake and we managed to underline the facts, copied them and read the notes quietly.
The sound of the two rickety fans emitted somehow hynotised us and slowly we felt drowsy. Our eyes slowly closed and we started to sway and our heads nodded and we found it hard to concentrate. We wanted to keep our eyes opened but it was terribly difficult.

Suddenly a voise boomed. “Mah Heng Wah, Leong Choy Foong, Visvanathan, Chen Yoon Heng (Me) Balbir Singh, Zainuddin…”

The list went on and we were suddenly wide awake. Mr. Manjit Singh had called out most of our names.

He commanded us; “Come to the front of the class!”
We came out; one by one; from our seats, shocked and not knowing what to expect.
“Line up,” he ordered. “I told you to read but you chose to sleep. So I have to punish you.”
We did not see him come into the class with a cane or any long ruler. We did not know how he was going to punish us. We were guessing and wondering.
“Come here,” he said.

Mah Heng Wah was the first. He stepped in front of him. Heng Wah looked at him nervously. Our teacher help up his knuckle and brought it down on his forehead.

‘Crack’ It was loud, as if he had knocked a lamp post. Heng Wah let out a scream and cried. I bet it was painful. I did not know how he felt as I was lost in fear.

One by one we stepped forward and each of us received a blow on the forehead. I saw some of them supporting themselves by holding onto the desks near them.

My turn came and I was almost in tears before he whack his knuckle on me. The blow came and I reeled and cried out. I was like being hit by a stone. It was a painful one and I let out a scream.
The others got theirs and all of us wept; some openly and some quietly.

“Now sit down and continue your reading. The next time I shall double the punishment.”

We sat down and tried to concentrate. Some of our friends who had escaped smiled and sniggered.

“Don’t laugh. Your turn may come. I’m paying special attention on you,” he warned.

Everyone stopped and the class was silent, as silent as the grave. I bet we could hear the pin drop except for the hypnotizing fans; curse you. The fans must have been laughing at us.