With the Teacher’s Day just celebrated two days ago, and of course the long weekend Malaysians are enjoying, what more can you ask for?... Anyway, had been busy with the kids last Teacher’s Day. You must be wondering how come? They are the students! Right, they are the students, not the teachers. And yet, they give me migraine each year when 16th May comes.
“Ibu, what can I give my teachers this year?” See what I mean? It is like a must for my children to be asking me this same question every year. And, instead of making a fuss about it, I went along with them. I suppose, what’s with a small token compared to the knowledge given by these teachers. This year I got their teachers a scarf each. On the afternoons of the 16th May each year, I’ll see a few of my neighbours, who are teachers by profession, carrying loads of presents out of their cars, with big smiles on their faces! Hmm...must be nice being appreciated each year. On another note, we usually celebrate formal educationists each year. We, however, tend to forget about the informal educationists. This includes the tuition teachers, the religious teachers, the mothers, the parents, the grandmothers, the grandfathers et cetera. (A point to ponder on.)
Talking of teachers, there’s one particular teacher that is still stuck in my head since I was in Standard Five. Her name is Mrs Fong and she was one of the feared teachers in my school. She taught Mathematics and she was considered to be the kid sister of the lioness. She used to have a few of us, the Maths-dumb-heads, sat on the floor, in front of the class, to either finish up our homework or do our corrections. Due to that fact, it was no surprise why I used to hate and failed Maths, especially in that particular year, although my parents would spend hours a day each night to ensure that I did my homework.
She was certain that I would obtain 5Es for my Standard Five Assessment Examination. She told the class that she would cut off her head if I could obtain even a C! How could she! And when the results were published, she was beaming the whole morning. I had the confidence that I could have obtained at least 5Cs. That was good enough for me, at that time. And guess what? I obtained, straight As and all she could say was, “I don’t need to chop off my head. It was all worth it,” patted my shoulder and smiled, while handing me the exam’s results slip.
It was as though I was flying somewhere else although I was physically there. I cried the whole journey home. My family was very proud of me, although I still could not believe what had happened.
Over many years, I realised that what Mrs Fong did was to challenge me, mentally and the ‘abuse’ was to challenge my guts. Until today, I am ever so grateful to Mrs Fong for her effort to wake me up. Since then, I had tried to strive for excellence in everything I do. The girl who hated and was weak in Maths had done outstandingly for her Maths during her school years, had developed an articulate mind that she fell in love with numbers and now had made numbers to be her dough of bread. It is very true as they say, "Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day; teach a man to fish and he'll eat forever."
Teachers, wherever you are, thank you.
“Ibu, what can I give my teachers this year?” See what I mean? It is like a must for my children to be asking me this same question every year. And, instead of making a fuss about it, I went along with them. I suppose, what’s with a small token compared to the knowledge given by these teachers. This year I got their teachers a scarf each. On the afternoons of the 16th May each year, I’ll see a few of my neighbours, who are teachers by profession, carrying loads of presents out of their cars, with big smiles on their faces! Hmm...must be nice being appreciated each year. On another note, we usually celebrate formal educationists each year. We, however, tend to forget about the informal educationists. This includes the tuition teachers, the religious teachers, the mothers, the parents, the grandmothers, the grandfathers et cetera. (A point to ponder on.)
Talking of teachers, there’s one particular teacher that is still stuck in my head since I was in Standard Five. Her name is Mrs Fong and she was one of the feared teachers in my school. She taught Mathematics and she was considered to be the kid sister of the lioness. She used to have a few of us, the Maths-dumb-heads, sat on the floor, in front of the class, to either finish up our homework or do our corrections. Due to that fact, it was no surprise why I used to hate and failed Maths, especially in that particular year, although my parents would spend hours a day each night to ensure that I did my homework.
She was certain that I would obtain 5Es for my Standard Five Assessment Examination. She told the class that she would cut off her head if I could obtain even a C! How could she! And when the results were published, she was beaming the whole morning. I had the confidence that I could have obtained at least 5Cs. That was good enough for me, at that time. And guess what? I obtained, straight As and all she could say was, “I don’t need to chop off my head. It was all worth it,” patted my shoulder and smiled, while handing me the exam’s results slip.
It was as though I was flying somewhere else although I was physically there. I cried the whole journey home. My family was very proud of me, although I still could not believe what had happened.
Over many years, I realised that what Mrs Fong did was to challenge me, mentally and the ‘abuse’ was to challenge my guts. Until today, I am ever so grateful to Mrs Fong for her effort to wake me up. Since then, I had tried to strive for excellence in everything I do. The girl who hated and was weak in Maths had done outstandingly for her Maths during her school years, had developed an articulate mind that she fell in love with numbers and now had made numbers to be her dough of bread. It is very true as they say, "Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day; teach a man to fish and he'll eat forever."
Teachers, wherever you are, thank you.
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