Schools in Singapore celebrated Teachers' Day yesterday, on the last day of school before the one-week term break. It was a good opportunity for our children to show their appreciation to their teachers for all the care they'd shown throughout the year.
I was hardly the effusively appreciative student – the kind who would shower my teachers with flowers, chocolates or even better, a big stuffed toy on Teachers’ Day to express my gratitude for all they had done. Being a highly self-conscious child and teen, doing that would mean drawing far too much attention to myself. What’s worse, it would likely require extended conversation with the teacher-recipient of my gift! And how tongue-tied I would be then! No… I preferred to remain unobtrusively in the corner, sharing in a collective class present and simply signing my name on the card the class rep provided.
Today's post is an opportunity for me to pay tribute to my teachers, especially those who brightened up my path during my formative years, even though they may never know the difference they made to the quiet girl in the corner.
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Mrs Pereira was a wonderfully collected woman, slightly plump and always immaculately coiffed…
She remained unfazed when a classmate peed on the floor in the first few days of Primary One (First Grade). Speaking in impeccable English, she would usher us firmly into our lines or through the routines of teeth-brushing, colouring or the completion of simple worksheets (did we even do any? My memory fails me here!). Her steadiness and motherly nature made me look forward to schooldays and the assuredness of order that came with it.
Miss Tok had a commanding presence that made every student desire nothing less than her approval…
With her lips tightly drawn into a thin line, her back ramrod straight, she demanded nothing but perfection from us during our PSLE (Sixth Grade - Primary School Leaving Examination) year. Failure to answer a question correctly would most certainly mean a change of seat – relegation to the back rows of the classroom, a place I associated with hopelessness and stagnation. Wanting to avoid that fate rallied me to work harder than I’d ever done. For all the discipline she enforced, Miss Tok had a heart of gold – she never scolded, only insisted. During music lessons, she accompanied us on the piano. Firmly and patiently she coaxed beautiful songs from the class by working her magic over the keys, without ever singing a single note!
Mrs Choo instilled in me a love for clarity, method and meticulousness…
The way she solved each Math problem on the blackboard, writing down the steps ever so neatly and systematically almost made me sigh with relief and gratitude. Mrs Choo spoke in slightly Chinese-accented English, using modulated tones barely louder than conversational, never agitated but always certain and purposeful. Listening to her explanations gave me the confidence I never found before (and unfortunately, would never find again, after I left her class) to excel at a subject that sorely revealed my academic limitations.
Mrs Oei, my English Literature Form Mistress, showed me the richness of life through her beautiful use of the English Language…
A larger than life personality who did not hesitate to fling sub-standard work out of the second floor windows of our airy classroom with a dramatic toss accompanied by a loud dismissive shout, Mrs Oei both terrified and inspired me. Every line of text and every analysis made of character or plot was done in her signature manner, with passion and exuberance reverberating through the room. I filled up the blank spaces in my Literature textbooks with her comments or descriptions ad verbatim, reveling in how her every turn of phrase captured so vividly and precisely the intensity of seemingly ordinary human experiences. Though I never once uttered a comment or asked a question in class, my beloved Literature teacher’s rhetoric threw open doors to experiences I had never known and depicted a range of emotions I could only marvel at. Little did I guess then that those awe-struck lessons were preparing me for the vocation I would eventually pursue.
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Thank you teachers for all you've done!
And to all my teacher-friends, here's my favourite quote:
The whole purpose of education is to turn mirrors into windows. |
Sydney J. Harris |
Sheon
