My Class teacher: Mr. Hong Eng Kooi

My school days were wonderful and I had many fantastic and dedicated teachers; both in the primary and secondary.

In std 1, Ms Wong was the class teacher while in Std 2, Mr. Perumal took charge of us. Mr. Hong was the class teacher in Std 4 while Mr. Chan oversaw us in Std 6.

            Mr. Hong was a wonderful and remarkable teacher. He was very innovative and his teaching was interesting and effective. He was also not the conservative type. As the class teacher, he taught most of the subjects so he made them lively and especially English.

            In those days, we had poetry, poems, singing, play or acting in addition to the usual reading, grammar and writing. Learning was an exciting affair.

            It all started with one play, ‘The three blind men and the elephant’. I was one of those chosen to act in front of the class. Mr. Hong had drawn a picture of an elephant on the blackboard. I was to act as the blind men holding the trunk of the elephant. One held the tail and another, the ear. One had to touch the belly and another, the leg.

            He explained to us and told us what to do and say. There were just a few lines so it was not difficult acting and reciting the dialogue.

            Other groups were called up to perform the act and everyone had a good time and enjoyed the session.

            The lines included, ‘This must be the trunk of a tree. It is round and long. The bark is rough and tough.’ ‘Oh, this is like a fan. It can move and I feel the breeze.’ ‘Hey, this is the rope to tie things. It can be bent and can be used to tie things.

            Of course we were referring to the different parts of the elephant’s body.

            Later, we were asked to improvise the dialogue by adding our own interpretation. We made jokes and laughed when it was really ridiculous. I was one of them. I added nonsense words and phrases and I think that impressed the teacher.

            So from that day onwards, I was always called or asked to create plays or sketches during the English classes. I enjoyed those lessons tremendously and I most definitely learnt a lot of useful tips from Mr. Hong. If my lines were wrong and not structured properly, Mr. Hong would point them out and corrected the. Then he would changed some of them to suit the class. Then we would have to reenact the whole play.

            There were plays involving the police catching thieves and other silly plays. Some plays involved running and climbing through the windows. It was fun compared to the boring grammar lessons. It was also a break to stay focus on hot afternoons.

            Mr. Hong was also innovative because he used nature or natural phenomenon in his stories. I really mean stories because he had a truck load of them.

            Whenever it was dark especially on rainy days or whenever we were bored, we would know that Mr. Hong would start a new story or continue with the unfinished tale. We would wait eagerly to listen to his tales. He was a wonderful story teller. In such weather conditions, paying attention to lessons was out of the question.

            Very often during thunderstorms or rainy days, there would be blackouts and disruption of power supply. Furthermore rain would splash and find its way into the classrooms through the open windows. You must knpw that the windows were just covered with iron mesh and technically we were exposed to the elements of weather. On such days we had to move all the desks and chairs to the centre of the classroom to avoid the rain.

            In all his stories he would add the elements of nature to make them thrilling and frightening. He would would wait for the sign of lightning and then jus as thunder struck he would clap his hands or hit the desk. The sudden sound and the clap of thunder nearby made all of us jump from our seats. We would be screaming and shouting as we were really frightened but we enjoyed ourselves and wanted more.

            After the special effect, we would whisper, talk and make a lot of noise. He would wait patiently for us to calm down and let the excitement subside. Only then would he continue his story.

            So you can see how creative and innovative Mr. Hong was in those days. I wish there are more of such teachers.

            For your information, I met Mr. Hong in 1996 in Sitiawan where we were attending a wedding of a close friend. At that time he was at the point of retirement. It was really nice to meet him. I introduced myself and told him of the mischievous little actor back in 1996 when he was my class teacher. He remembered the good times and the class he held.

            Thank you , Mr. Hong for being such a wonderful teacher who had inspired all of us. I sincerely hope that he will have a healthy and wonderful life after retirement.

My History Teacher – Mr. Manjit Singh in Form 2

History was an enjoyable subject since primary school. It was fun listening to the tales, stories and explanations by those teachers. We listened with awe to the wonderful tales around the world. In addition they added their opinions. That was what made History interesting. We knew the stories of Emperor Ching, Hitler, Napoleon, Rasputin and many other great people.

It was only in form 2 that my love for History faded. It all came about because of the teacher. We were in the afternoon; form 1 and 2 in the afternoon session, while the rest were in the morning.

Imagine the heat and the tiredness in the afternoon. Most of us hated the afternoon session and especially the history class. Our dislike for the History lesson will be understood after my explanation.

Mr. Manjit Singh had the usual method of teaching; dull and monotonous, and we knew what to expect when he entered the class. It was very regimented. He would enter the class and we would be ready with the textbooks and notebooks on the desks. If we were slow in doing this we would be scolded.

He would then ask us to turn to a certain page in the textbook. His instructions were: underline whatever he read with repetition, copy those important facts into the notebooks or exercise books, and read the copied facts quietly. If we do not do so, we would be punished.

I can still recall that particular afternoon; a warm and humid one which we hated. The two rickety, wobbly and old fans rattled and twirled slowly and had little effect on us. As usual we copied and read the notes quietly.

The sound emitted from the two rickety fans hynotised us and slowly we felt drowsy. Our eye lids closed slowly 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 voice boomed, “Mai Heng Wah, Leong Choy Foong, Visvanathan, Chen Yoon Heng, Balbir Singh, Megat …”

The list went on and we were wide awake. It was a terrible mistake to doze off in the class. He had practically called out half the class.

He commanded, “Come to the front of the class.”

One by one we slowly came out 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 coming into the class with a cane or any long ruler. We did not know how he was going to punish us. We were expecting the worst.

“Come here,” he said.

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

Crack! It was loud and it sounded as if Heng Wah had knocked his head onto a lamp post.

He let out a scream and cried. I bet it was painful but how painful, I would only know when I received it. I was totally lost in fear and shocked. 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 even before receiving the punishment. The blow came and I reeled and cried out. It was like being hit by a stone. It was painful 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 continue while the rest who escaped smiled and sniggered.

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

Everyone stopped; crying, sobbing, weeping or sniggering. The whole class was silent except for the two rickety fans that wobbled and swayed emitting the awful sound. They must be laughing at us now. 

NEARLY DROWNED IN THE MINING POOL

It is undeniable that children love water. The thrill of playing in the rain, in the river or even at the sea side conjures laughter and happiness.

            I did not have the luxury of swimming in a swimming pool in those days. This was shared with my other friends. Swimming pools were few too and to use or to enjoy one, you would have to be a member of some prestigious club.

            To swim or play in the sea was out of the question. The nearest beach was a two hour journey from home. Even with the newly completed highway, it would take an hour or more to reach the beach at Teluk Batik.

            So the only consolation was the many disused mining pools around the area. Most of the boys, being adventurous would sneak to the mining pools and have an enjoyable dip and splash there; without their parents’ permission.

            I was one of them. To avoid being detected or found out by our parents, we had an ingenious plan. We would sneak out or go out with an extra pair of shorts and shirt. These would be hidden in some corners of either an empty house or a secluded spot like a tree. Our plan was to return after the adventure and change into dry clothes before going home.

            One afternoon, a very hot afternoon and I remembered it was a Friday afternoon; we ‘disappeared’ from home and headed to a mining pool selected after a discussion. As usual I hid my clothes under the roof at the back of my friend’s house.

            We ran all the way happily chatting and pushing one another. As usual I went there with my four Indian friends; Gopal, Thayalan, Guna and Ravi. In no time we reached the selected spot.

            When we reached the bank of the pool we saw hoof prints and we knew that the cows had had their share of the water. It was deserted and quiet except for the occasional chirping of birds in some faraway trees. The pool was ours, all ours.

            Without a thought of danger, we ran and stripped and jumped into the cool water. We played, splashed and pushed one another. The laughter could have awoken even the sound snorer. It was chilly as the water was cool. That did not bother us.

            Any kid would have done the same. We swam or rather tried to swim and more often than not, we drank water in the process. Still it did not dampen our excitement; even though we knew that the cows had done their business there too.

            We became braver and waded out further from the bank. From knee depth we moved further until the water reached our waist. Then we stopped because we knew that we could not swim. We played there for a while. We then challenged one another to go further. Gopal took the lead and he swam a few meters and returned. The others followed. I also took up the challenge stepped further. Instantly I sank into the deep end. I was shocked. My feet touched soft ground and I struggled. I was petrified and tried my best to get my head above the surface. I gulped and swallowed a lot of water. I thought I was going to die. My hands kept splashing and waving around and I was hoping to get hold of something. I was totally terrified.

            Suddenly I touched some reeds or grass and I grabbed them with all my might. I pulled and I managed to get my head above the water. I kept at the pulling and I finally was able to step onto solid ground. Then I knew that I was on safe ground. I crawled and waded to the bank of the disused mining pool.

            My friends were there waiting for me. They were in tears because no one could do anything. They could not swim and so they could not help me. Even Gopal who was the best was terrified at the thought of going into the pool to save me. Furthermore to get help from passers-by was out of the question. By then it would be too late. So they just stood there with tears in their eyes and sobbing their hearts out.

            When they saw me, they quickly pulled me onto the bank of the pool. We sat down and wept out loudly. I was coughing and sneezing and blowing my nose to clear the water. I slowly regained my composure and we stopped chattering. We just sat there silently like a litter of wet kittens.

            Would you have done the same thing? Would you venture to a pool when you know that you cannot swim? Think hard and long.