Currently in: Gelare Cafe, Suntec City
Currently listening to: Chris Daughtry
The 2007 Sec 2 Camp was unprecedented, in more ways than one.
Discussions about the Camp began as early as January. There were many ideas that were floated around the PE department and by the end of the month, we thought we had a clear idea on how the Camp would be run.
We were confident of making this Camp a success, and we had our reasons for feeling this way.
Not many students have this inside information - Fajar Secondary has something that not many other schools can boast of.
It is this: Fajar is blessed with a sizable number of teachers who possess the MOE Outdoor Adventure Centre license.
In other words, some of our teachers are qualified (and more than capable) of running the Camp as INSTRUCTORS. It means that, where other schools can't, we can run our own Camps.
And we have the quality. Our teachers are faultless in carrying out the activities safely and ensuring the complete Camp experience for the campers. These teachers are not new. They have at least 2 - 3 Sec 2 Camps under their belt. Some of them even assist in the running of the Peer Leaders’ Training Camps. We have the experience.
A second reason is that we can always count on the Peer Leaders. The Peer Leaders’ original raison d’etre (before they were formed some years ago) was to assist the School in the Level Camps.
Every year, the PLs look forward to this massive task - to assist the Teachers, and to eat, live with, guide, mentor, encourage, discipline, cajole, reprimand, observe, and inspire the Sec 2 students - over a period of 5 demanding days. The experience is always punishing. Not all Sec 2 students are pleasant to be with. How often I have seen Peer Leaders break down - having suffered from dealing with difficult students, and having reached their limits of physical and mental thresholds.
But Peer Leaders have resilience. No, it’s not thrust onto them, it’s not taught onto them. They have always found the ability to bounce back, and the resilience that has always been inside them, found its way out, took root and gave the PLs renewed strength to recover and come back stronger than ever.
When the going gets tough, the TOUGH GETS GOING. How true.
And, by the end of the camp, the Peer Leaders look entirely different. They have steel now. They are bonded with each other like never before. Unlike any other student leadership groups I know, the School knows that whatever life throws at this hardy group, they can deal with it, the Fajarian way, the right way.
So with these two reasons, we were quite confident that the Camp would be smooth. We’ve got the teachers and we’ve got the student leaders.
But, you know how it is with life. Nothing stays certain. Plans change.
The School decided to allow vendors to run the camp. This decision was met with dismay, even disdain.
We’ve never done this before - allow others to run OUR Camp.
Fajar’s strength has been that we run our Camps. It’s almost our source of unbridled pride. I mean, our teachers are also instructors, and I’m not just referring to the PE teachers. We have classroom teachers who are qualified and quite capable. How cool is that?
The School’s decision rocked us and it wasn’t easy to accept it.
It raised so many questions in our heads.
But as servants of the school, right from the Teachers to the PLs, we accepted the decision. Instead of looking at the problems and complaining, we adopted the attitude of, ‘How can we make this work?’
Working with vendors certainly presented hitches, none which were too great to overcome. The teachers worked feverishly to put the programme together. There was a lot of unseen work that were done. For any grand project to work, a tremendous amount of effort has to be invested into the preparations.
The Camp is now over. The instructors from CHA were, to a large extent, brilliant.
The Camp was absolutely fun. I was privileged to be with groups 15 and 16 (Coconuts and Hi-5s) and the instructors - Alvin and Vanessa - were irrepressible and absolutely bursting with encouragements and enthusiasm. They taught the kids HOW TO LIVE.
Much tears were shed when the instructors bade farewell. In a sense, the students realized that with the instructors’ departure, it would signal the end of the fun experience.
I beg to differ. Their departure was necessary. The Sec 2 students have to stand on their own feet.
In their short time with us, the instructors have spoken words of wisdom to them. Sitting with Alvin and Vanessa, I completely affirm every word they said. They talked about respect. They talked about cohesiveness in a team. They talked about being a good listener. They talked about supporting one another. They talked about the pointlessness of blaming others. They talked about seeing things in a positive attitude. They talked about playing by the rules, even when no one is watching. They talked about INTEGRITY - doing things rightly and honourably at all times.
In this Sec 2 Camp, the campers learnt all these lessons (and more) through a myriad of activities. Though the Camp must end, these lessons need not be forgotten. The Sec 2s must take these lessons and apply it in their real world. To those who think that life is a drag, that School is meaningless, that there is emptiness in what they do - I exhort you to re-think and to apply the lessons learnt from this Camp.
The Sec 2 Camp is meant to let the campers venture BEYOND - to step into the unknown, to think differently, to be boldly positive.
The Camp prepares you to live life well. The SCHOOL has provided the OPPORTUNITY, the TEACHERS have successfully organized and planned the Camp, the INSTRUCTORS have honoured the contract and taught you well.
But it is not enough.
This Sec 2 Camp will never be considered a true success, until the CAMPERS take all those lessons that they have learnt in the Camp, and APPLY them in their real worlds.
Once that happens for every single Sec 2 Camper, the Camp would have achieved its purpose.
Sunday, March 25, 2007
Saturday, March 24, 2007
About the outing with 2 young ladies
Currently listening to: Red Hot Chilli Peppers' Under The Bridge
Last weekend, my wife and I had a lovely day out with Evie and Charmaine.
We got to know them when we went on a tour to the Middle East in December. We were herded into the same tour bus throughout the 10-day trip and we grew to adore them.
Evie is in Primary Five but she’s a really quick-witted and heartwarming person. Charmaine's one year older but she speaks so softly that her voice is like the flutterings of a butterfly. I really have to bend low to hear her clearly but she looks so innocent, so sweet that my wife and I just want to protect her.
Going out with them is just a blast and my wife arranged this outing and when she told me about it, I was really thrilled.
So, we picked them up from Sunday school and drove to Vivo City. We had a quick lunch, and then made our way quickly to the Harbourfront Towers. We were going to take the cable car!
From there, we lapped on some Ben & Jerry’s ice-cream gleefully, before skipping down to the Underwater World.
In there, we saw marvellous sights, such as the rare dugong, sharks, giant crabs, manta rays, and some humans in diving suits, feeding the sea creatures.
The day culminated with a splendid dinner with Charmaine’s parents in Swensens, back in Vivo City.
We had a perfect day with these two ladies and I think my one-week school break could not have ended any better.
Last weekend, my wife and I had a lovely day out with Evie and Charmaine.
We got to know them when we went on a tour to the Middle East in December. We were herded into the same tour bus throughout the 10-day trip and we grew to adore them.
Evie is in Primary Five but she’s a really quick-witted and heartwarming person. Charmaine's one year older but she speaks so softly that her voice is like the flutterings of a butterfly. I really have to bend low to hear her clearly but she looks so innocent, so sweet that my wife and I just want to protect her.
Going out with them is just a blast and my wife arranged this outing and when she told me about it, I was really thrilled.
So, we picked them up from Sunday school and drove to Vivo City. We had a quick lunch, and then made our way quickly to the Harbourfront Towers. We were going to take the cable car!
The journey on top of the world took our breath away. We were all buzzing with excitement as the cable car moved slowly towards Mount Faber, made a u-turn, before we alighted at Sentosa station.
From there, we lapped on some Ben & Jerry’s ice-cream gleefully, before skipping down to the Underwater World.
In there, we saw marvellous sights, such as the rare dugong, sharks, giant crabs, manta rays, and some humans in diving suits, feeding the sea creatures.
The day culminated with a splendid dinner with Charmaine’s parents in Swensens, back in Vivo City.
We had a perfect day with these two ladies and I think my one-week school break could not have ended any better.
Thursday, March 15, 2007
He has gone to a better place
Life had so restricted you
your spirit is now free
to go explore the universe
for all eternity.
Judy Gagnon
You will be missed, Kenneth.
your spirit is now free
to go explore the universe
for all eternity.
Judy Gagnon
You will be missed, Kenneth.
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
About the noisy Japanese dinner
Dark and gloomy skies greeted us as we opened our car doors in the East Coast car park. We were starving and our original intention had been to drive to the famous Old Airport Road food centre for our dinner after picking up my wife from the airport.
As it turned out, we couldn’t wait, not when our car whizzed past East Coast and rows of restaurants came into view. The Japanese restaurant caught our eyes and we agreed quickly that we’d turn out from the expressway and head straight there.
Once inside the restaurant, we were greeted by a cacophony of voices, some hollering, some shrieking, wishing us ‘welcome’ in their pseudo-Japanese. You might already have a taste of it if you have ever stepped into Sakae Sushi but I tell you, this was ten times worse.
Anyway we were ushered to our seat, and we pored over the menu, which contains an astounding 189 dishes (no I didn’t count them as all the dishes were numbered). The only problem was that we simply did not know what to order. There were too many dishes to choose from!
It didn’t help that while we were still deciding, we were momentarily deafened by the disharmonious grunts by the waitresses every time a guest entered the restaurant.
Eventually we picked our dishes and ordered our food.
The good news was that we didn’t have to wait too long for the food to come. We barely got warmed up in our conversation before my dish, curry rice with chicken, arrived, followed moments later by an excellent beef sukiyaki.
The meal was quite average but it did its job of filling our stomachs.
Well, once the billed was settled, we stood up to head for the exit. I was almost prepared to cover my ears because you would know what would come next.
Yes. They shrieked again ‘goodbye and please come again’ in some unintelligible language, Japanese I presume.
And no no no no no, I didn’t cover my ears. That would be too mean, wouldn't it.
As it turned out, we couldn’t wait, not when our car whizzed past East Coast and rows of restaurants came into view. The Japanese restaurant caught our eyes and we agreed quickly that we’d turn out from the expressway and head straight there.
Once inside the restaurant, we were greeted by a cacophony of voices, some hollering, some shrieking, wishing us ‘welcome’ in their pseudo-Japanese. You might already have a taste of it if you have ever stepped into Sakae Sushi but I tell you, this was ten times worse.
Anyway we were ushered to our seat, and we pored over the menu, which contains an astounding 189 dishes (no I didn’t count them as all the dishes were numbered). The only problem was that we simply did not know what to order. There were too many dishes to choose from!
It didn’t help that while we were still deciding, we were momentarily deafened by the disharmonious grunts by the waitresses every time a guest entered the restaurant.
Eventually we picked our dishes and ordered our food.
The good news was that we didn’t have to wait too long for the food to come. We barely got warmed up in our conversation before my dish, curry rice with chicken, arrived, followed moments later by an excellent beef sukiyaki.
The meal was quite average but it did its job of filling our stomachs.
Well, once the billed was settled, we stood up to head for the exit. I was almost prepared to cover my ears because you would know what would come next.
Yes. They shrieked again ‘goodbye and please come again’ in some unintelligible language, Japanese I presume.
And no no no no no, I didn’t cover my ears. That would be too mean, wouldn't it.
Saturday, March 10, 2007
It's the same old story
Current location: Bukit Batok
Listening to: Nelly Furtado's Say It Right (Thanks Ms Cheryl for the cd)
We've never really changed, have we?
Utter disrespect, incessant noise-making, a senseless fight... and to top it off, a thief in our own backyard.
What we had there was a group of decent people, doing their jobs, trying to get the event well and truly running. All their efforts were almost derailed by some who couldn't be bothered.
Perhaps the only way for some of them to learn is to get a taste of their own medicine.
What could have been an outstanding day in our calender - where we could have seen the best of us - instead turned into a smouldering mess of disappointment, seething resentment and unadulterated frustration.
Listening to: Nelly Furtado's Say It Right (Thanks Ms Cheryl for the cd)
We've never really changed, have we?
Utter disrespect, incessant noise-making, a senseless fight... and to top it off, a thief in our own backyard.
What we had there was a group of decent people, doing their jobs, trying to get the event well and truly running. All their efforts were almost derailed by some who couldn't be bothered.
Perhaps the only way for some of them to learn is to get a taste of their own medicine.
What could have been an outstanding day in our calender - where we could have seen the best of us - instead turned into a smouldering mess of disappointment, seething resentment and unadulterated frustration.
Thursday, February 22, 2007
About this morning's thrilling match
It's another glorious European night for Liverpool FC.
This morning, I witnessed the capitulation of mighty Barcelona at the hands of a disciplined Liverpool. Barcelona are a side adorned with world-class players, but the Reds shackled them effectively, coming from a goal down to defeat them, in the cavernous Nou Camp.
Tell you what, Liverpool's win really made my day!
This morning, I witnessed the capitulation of mighty Barcelona at the hands of a disciplined Liverpool. Barcelona are a side adorned with world-class players, but the Reds shackled them effectively, coming from a goal down to defeat them, in the cavernous Nou Camp.
Tell you what, Liverpool's win really made my day!
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
About forgetting easily how good running feels
It's been too long since I embarked on a run alone.
Ever since the Stanchart Marathon was completed, I have stopped running altogether. Running with students don't count. It's very different running with the kids as a means of motivating them, compared to running on my own as my way to get away from the tumbles and rumbles of daily life.
Today, I got out of bed early, and hit the road at about 7-ish, heading towards the lush condominums of Tanjong Rhu, skirting along the serene Kallang Basin.
The view of the city illuminated the morning sky. It felt really good.
I took my time, and I was glad when I finally stopped at the petrol station. Not too bad, as I glanced at my stopwatch. 29 minutes.
Man, it felt good. It's been too long.
2 hours later, while driving to Tiong Bahru to pick up my beloved grandmother and cousins, the feel-good feeling still lingered within.
It's been over two months, and I've been neglecting my physical well-being. I'll have to pick it up again. I shall!
Ever since the Stanchart Marathon was completed, I have stopped running altogether. Running with students don't count. It's very different running with the kids as a means of motivating them, compared to running on my own as my way to get away from the tumbles and rumbles of daily life.
Today, I got out of bed early, and hit the road at about 7-ish, heading towards the lush condominums of Tanjong Rhu, skirting along the serene Kallang Basin.
The view of the city illuminated the morning sky. It felt really good.
I took my time, and I was glad when I finally stopped at the petrol station. Not too bad, as I glanced at my stopwatch. 29 minutes.
Man, it felt good. It's been too long.
2 hours later, while driving to Tiong Bahru to pick up my beloved grandmother and cousins, the feel-good feeling still lingered within.
It's been over two months, and I've been neglecting my physical well-being. I'll have to pick it up again. I shall!
Sunday, February 11, 2007
About the difference between today and the future
Now at: Gelare Cafe, Suntec City
Currently listening to: Firehouse's I Live My Life For You
Yesterday, after sending my wife off at the airport, I met a friend while on my way back to the car.
We had a brief chat and he asked me, "What's your plans man? Still doing the same stuff next year?"
I found it impossible to give a firm and clear answer to him.
Who knows what the future holds?
We can plan and plan. Strangely, the view of the future has never been crystal clear.
All I know is, do the work that comes your way, with a touch of excellence, and enjoy the process.
That's kept me going in my current job for almost 5 years now.
I'm blessed with a great job, and the best things about it are the colleagues and students.
But even from day one, these questions loom in my head, sometimes giving me a gentle nudge, sometimes burning in my mind:
Is this what I want?
Is this what my life is about?
I can't be doing this all my life, can I?
Time to move on, perhaps?
I really don't have all the answers.
But I do know this: It's pointless to think too much about the past, and it is a waste of energy to contemplate too much about the future.
It is all about this: Live for today, make it good, make it better, for today has its ups and downs already.
And guess what, living each day well could very well translate into a secure future, and leave behind a past that is adorned with pleasant memories.
It's adamantly clear: we only have one chance to live today well. Don't blow it.
Each day is really a gift. Make the best out of it.
Currently listening to: Firehouse's I Live My Life For You
Yesterday, after sending my wife off at the airport, I met a friend while on my way back to the car.
We had a brief chat and he asked me, "What's your plans man? Still doing the same stuff next year?"
I found it impossible to give a firm and clear answer to him.
Who knows what the future holds?
We can plan and plan. Strangely, the view of the future has never been crystal clear.
All I know is, do the work that comes your way, with a touch of excellence, and enjoy the process.
That's kept me going in my current job for almost 5 years now.
I'm blessed with a great job, and the best things about it are the colleagues and students.
But even from day one, these questions loom in my head, sometimes giving me a gentle nudge, sometimes burning in my mind:
Is this what I want?
Is this what my life is about?
I can't be doing this all my life, can I?
Time to move on, perhaps?
I really don't have all the answers.
But I do know this: It's pointless to think too much about the past, and it is a waste of energy to contemplate too much about the future.
It is all about this: Live for today, make it good, make it better, for today has its ups and downs already.
And guess what, living each day well could very well translate into a secure future, and leave behind a past that is adorned with pleasant memories.
It's adamantly clear: we only have one chance to live today well. Don't blow it.
Each day is really a gift. Make the best out of it.
Sunday, February 04, 2007
About indifference
Now at: Gelare Café, Suntec City
Currently listening to: Chicago’s You Come To My Senses
A woman walked past me, pushing a trolley laden with shopping, just outside Carrefour, at Suntec City.
The next thing, coins hit the tiled floor noisily, and coins scurried away in all directions. Some of the coins rolled to me and collapsed flat. She hurriedly picked it up. I picked up for her too, wherever I could see. It was natural to give her a hand. She had dropped her coins.
But what dismayed me was, so many other people walked past her, indifferent to her plight. Some looked at her, and just walked on.
Why didn’t they stop to help?
I passed her the coins. She thanked me gratefully.
Are we becoming a society that lacks the natural instinct to help a fellow neighbour?
Seeing such unsympathetic people around me makes me even more determined and resolute in imparting and cultivating a spirit of care and helpfulness in all my students.
We cannot look at other people’s plight and not help, when we are able to. This is just not right.
Currently listening to: Chicago’s You Come To My Senses
A woman walked past me, pushing a trolley laden with shopping, just outside Carrefour, at Suntec City.
The next thing, coins hit the tiled floor noisily, and coins scurried away in all directions. Some of the coins rolled to me and collapsed flat. She hurriedly picked it up. I picked up for her too, wherever I could see. It was natural to give her a hand. She had dropped her coins.
But what dismayed me was, so many other people walked past her, indifferent to her plight. Some looked at her, and just walked on.
Why didn’t they stop to help?
I passed her the coins. She thanked me gratefully.
Are we becoming a society that lacks the natural instinct to help a fellow neighbour?
Seeing such unsympathetic people around me makes me even more determined and resolute in imparting and cultivating a spirit of care and helpfulness in all my students.
We cannot look at other people’s plight and not help, when we are able to. This is just not right.
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
About that game
Heartbreaking.
Victory slipped right through the fingers of our grasp.
We had our opponents by their necks. Our players, sticking stubbornly to our game plan, stifled and choked our opponents’ free-flowing attacking game. And in doing so, we prevented an avalanche of points against us. At the same time, we frustrated them, eroded their fluidity, and rattled their team confidence.
It was David versus Goliath: an unequal match between BPGH, the seeded team in our group, and Fajar, and it was a game where BPGH was expected to stroll to a comfortable victory. As it turned out, our team refused to back off in the face of their seeming superiority.
We could have easily thrown in the towel. By the end of the 1st quarter, we were 0-10 down. My fittest player, Colvin, was virtually drained of his energy, so difficult was his task to mark the opponent’s most dangerous player out of the game. To his credit, he managed to nullify that lanky player and reduced his threat.
In the second quarter, Fajar stuck to their guns, and played a deliberate game of possession, passing the ball around, braking the speed of the game. We knew that BPGH’s players, many who tower over our players, are deadly when they attack. It turned out that they struggled to defend against our style of play. It must have exasperated them.
It worked. In the 2nd, 3rd and last quarter, Fajar outscored BPGH. In the last minute, we scored 2 brilliant baskets that propelled us into the lead.
It was nailbiting. My experience tells me that in schools sport, a 2-point lead against a top side in the West Zone can evaporate with one mistake or a lapse of concentration.
And in that one minute, BPGH scored just enough, to pip us by one point.
The final score? 44-43.
The massive sigh of relief from the opponents was palpable. It was clear to all, Fajar was that close to causing a massive upset in this competition.
This week, it’s back to basics – working on our formations, getting it right, sorting out our weaknesses. We have one last game left – against Jurong, the once-mighty kingpins of the region. We will be looking forward to that game. It's time to stand up and be counted, Fajar. Against BPGH, we almost defeated them. Against Jurong, we must raise our game to stratospheric heights. If we do, we can upset the odds.
As a side note, I think this is abundantly clear: no matter what happens to my basketball boys, I will always stand by them, in victory or in defeat. Always.
Fajar Basketball 2006
Front row (L - R) Shuan, Chong Yong, Zhi Cheng (B Div vice-captain), Hung Ju (B Div captain), Mr Ken Ng (teacher in-charge), Ms Ivy Lee (assistant teacher in-charge), Billy (C Div captain), Zi Ting (C Div vice-captain), Wei Cheng, Jie Qi
Second row (L - R) Andy, Norman, Micky, Wenxing, Theng Tat, Xin Yu, Roy, Andy, Kai Ming, Fadhli, Haoming, Wei Hao, Winston, Xiaokai, Vincent, Wen Bin
Last row (L - R) Lian Jie, Yan Sin, Tony, Jun Chang, Colvin, Alvin, Derek, Eugene
Victory slipped right through the fingers of our grasp.
We had our opponents by their necks. Our players, sticking stubbornly to our game plan, stifled and choked our opponents’ free-flowing attacking game. And in doing so, we prevented an avalanche of points against us. At the same time, we frustrated them, eroded their fluidity, and rattled their team confidence.
It was David versus Goliath: an unequal match between BPGH, the seeded team in our group, and Fajar, and it was a game where BPGH was expected to stroll to a comfortable victory. As it turned out, our team refused to back off in the face of their seeming superiority.
We could have easily thrown in the towel. By the end of the 1st quarter, we were 0-10 down. My fittest player, Colvin, was virtually drained of his energy, so difficult was his task to mark the opponent’s most dangerous player out of the game. To his credit, he managed to nullify that lanky player and reduced his threat.
In the second quarter, Fajar stuck to their guns, and played a deliberate game of possession, passing the ball around, braking the speed of the game. We knew that BPGH’s players, many who tower over our players, are deadly when they attack. It turned out that they struggled to defend against our style of play. It must have exasperated them.
It worked. In the 2nd, 3rd and last quarter, Fajar outscored BPGH. In the last minute, we scored 2 brilliant baskets that propelled us into the lead.
It was nailbiting. My experience tells me that in schools sport, a 2-point lead against a top side in the West Zone can evaporate with one mistake or a lapse of concentration.
And in that one minute, BPGH scored just enough, to pip us by one point.
The final score? 44-43.
The massive sigh of relief from the opponents was palpable. It was clear to all, Fajar was that close to causing a massive upset in this competition.
This week, it’s back to basics – working on our formations, getting it right, sorting out our weaknesses. We have one last game left – against Jurong, the once-mighty kingpins of the region. We will be looking forward to that game. It's time to stand up and be counted, Fajar. Against BPGH, we almost defeated them. Against Jurong, we must raise our game to stratospheric heights. If we do, we can upset the odds.
As a side note, I think this is abundantly clear: no matter what happens to my basketball boys, I will always stand by them, in victory or in defeat. Always.
Fajar Basketball 2006
Front row (L - R) Shuan, Chong Yong, Zhi Cheng (B Div vice-captain), Hung Ju (B Div captain), Mr Ken Ng (teacher in-charge), Ms Ivy Lee (assistant teacher in-charge), Billy (C Div captain), Zi Ting (C Div vice-captain), Wei Cheng, Jie Qi
Second row (L - R) Andy, Norman, Micky, Wenxing, Theng Tat, Xin Yu, Roy, Andy, Kai Ming, Fadhli, Haoming, Wei Hao, Winston, Xiaokai, Vincent, Wen Bin
Last row (L - R) Lian Jie, Yan Sin, Tony, Jun Chang, Colvin, Alvin, Derek, Eugene
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
About the missing part of the jigsaw
I couldn't believe my eyes, as I flipped through the School Annual 2007.
I could not find a photo of my beloved Peer Leaders anywhere. I saw the Prefects, the Student Council but not the Peer Leaders.
Immediately I sought to speak with the editor, one of my colleagues. I had to know why were they omitted.
My colleague explained to me that the group photo could not be found, and what the editorial team tried to do was to find other photos of the Peer Leaders and put them into the Sec 2 Camp section.
Though I was slightly placated by the answer, I still felt for the Peer Leaders.
I can imagine that some of them would feel perplexed, even upset, that the PLs were left out.
I understood. That was why I had to get answers from the editorial team. I'm certainly not angry with the editorial team. I think they did an outstanding job. This year's School Annual surpasses all previous years' yearbooks.
To the Peer Leaders, I have to apologise to you all that the group photo somehow did not make its way into the Annual.
But be rest assured, you are still very much in the School plans, and with or without the photo, you must continue to perform for the School, to serve with joy and to lead by example.
Do come and speak to me if you have any feedback. In the meantime, you can always come to my blog and check out the great PL group photo taken by Ms Shawna.
I could not find a photo of my beloved Peer Leaders anywhere. I saw the Prefects, the Student Council but not the Peer Leaders.
Immediately I sought to speak with the editor, one of my colleagues. I had to know why were they omitted.
My colleague explained to me that the group photo could not be found, and what the editorial team tried to do was to find other photos of the Peer Leaders and put them into the Sec 2 Camp section.
Though I was slightly placated by the answer, I still felt for the Peer Leaders.
I can imagine that some of them would feel perplexed, even upset, that the PLs were left out.
I understood. That was why I had to get answers from the editorial team. I'm certainly not angry with the editorial team. I think they did an outstanding job. This year's School Annual surpasses all previous years' yearbooks.
To the Peer Leaders, I have to apologise to you all that the group photo somehow did not make its way into the Annual.
But be rest assured, you are still very much in the School plans, and with or without the photo, you must continue to perform for the School, to serve with joy and to lead by example.
Do come and speak to me if you have any feedback. In the meantime, you can always come to my blog and check out the great PL group photo taken by Ms Shawna.
Saturday, January 20, 2007
Hand-in-hand, serving the School together
Here's a photo of the Peer Leaders, with whom I have worked closely with:
The Peer Leaders 2006
Front row (L - R): Suhaili, Gayeathri, Norman, Noorashikin, Mr Ken Ng, Mr Elamaran, Hung Ju, Swee Hong, Fadzli, Zubaidah.
Middle row (L - R): Faizul, Jasman, Jasmine, Amanda, Farhana, Hui Ying, Melissa, Liyana, Niwasini, Zi Hui, Carlyn, Siti Hawa, Faridah, Shi Jia, Leon, Lian Jie.
Back row (L - R): Farhan, Teck Sheng, Faizal, Alvin, Dong Qiang, Nasrul, Edward, Azzrul, Ren Jin, Nicholas, Vinoth, Aslam, Jia Hao
Quite a good lot, they are.
Already, my eye is on the current Sec 2s. I'm already looking out for potential Peer Leaders. Actually, I have seen some promising ones already.
To the current Peer Leaders, I urge you to always be a good role model, in all your ways. Any act of kindness or service, no matter how small, can inspire the next generation of student leaders.
Believe it.
The Peer Leaders 2006
Front row (L - R): Suhaili, Gayeathri, Norman, Noorashikin, Mr Ken Ng, Mr Elamaran, Hung Ju, Swee Hong, Fadzli, Zubaidah.
Middle row (L - R): Faizul, Jasman, Jasmine, Amanda, Farhana, Hui Ying, Melissa, Liyana, Niwasini, Zi Hui, Carlyn, Siti Hawa, Faridah, Shi Jia, Leon, Lian Jie.
Back row (L - R): Farhan, Teck Sheng, Faizal, Alvin, Dong Qiang, Nasrul, Edward, Azzrul, Ren Jin, Nicholas, Vinoth, Aslam, Jia Hao
Quite a good lot, they are.
Already, my eye is on the current Sec 2s. I'm already looking out for potential Peer Leaders. Actually, I have seen some promising ones already.
To the current Peer Leaders, I urge you to always be a good role model, in all your ways. Any act of kindness or service, no matter how small, can inspire the next generation of student leaders.
Believe it.
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
A great day
Current favourite song: I Still... Backstreet Boys
Now at: Big O Cafe, Wheelock Place
Someone said this on Sunday and it hit me like a hammer. Hard.
And I think it makes complete sense to me.
He said, "CONFESSION IS POSSESSION."
So, the name of the game is - in your daily life, always confess good things over your life. To confess is to believe something in your heart and say it aloud frequently. For example, when someone asks me, "how's life dude," my unfailing answer would be, "Excellent," or "I'm having a great day."
The strange thing is that, sometimes, I might be having a really lousy day, but I'm not going to make it any worse by admitting it. The first step towards changing things around you is to start with the words from your mouth!
Confess goodness over your life, and chances are, goodness will start following you wherever you go. It works for me and gives me that little bit extra to go on.
And for the record, the past couple of days have indeed quite been splendid for me.
Actually, my basketball boys lost a friendly match yesterday afternoon. At the end of the game, I had a talk with the coach and we agreed that the mistakes that my boys made were glaring. Yes, we scolded them and they deserved every bit of criticism dished out to them. The boys must know their weaknesses and their strengths, for the first match of the competition is merely days away. We do not have the luxury of time for any more friendly matches. It's back to the court for training, training & training.
As dusk fell, I had a chat with the opponent's teacher in-charge - a gentleman just starting out in the job. As I walked with him to the school gate, my basketball boys walked past us, on the way out of school. The boys, in their customary manners, bid us goodbye. "Goodbye, Mr Ng. Goodbye teacher."
The teacher was stunned. He turned to me and said, "If only my boys were like yours."
At that moment, I was filled with pride with these group of basketball players. From day one, I have always endeavoured to train these boys with strict discipline, manners and character, for those are some of the essential ingredients needed for Fajar basketball team's evolution into a team of genuine class & quality.
While I was really proud of them yesterday, another thought struck me as well. I realised that I must never take these boys for granted. All these boys come under me only for 4 or 5 years in their lives. Within this short period of time, I know I must do my best to teach them about what really, really matters.
Matches can be won or lost, but what is most important is that these boys grow up to be upright men of real quality, gentlemanly in words and deeds, reliable at all times, and trustworthy in every way.
As I bid my players farewell as they walked off into the sunset, I am quite sure that some of them are clearly transforming, right before my very eyes, into fine young men, and I am glad.
Now at: Big O Cafe, Wheelock Place
Someone said this on Sunday and it hit me like a hammer. Hard.
And I think it makes complete sense to me.
He said, "CONFESSION IS POSSESSION."
So, the name of the game is - in your daily life, always confess good things over your life. To confess is to believe something in your heart and say it aloud frequently. For example, when someone asks me, "how's life dude," my unfailing answer would be, "Excellent," or "I'm having a great day."
The strange thing is that, sometimes, I might be having a really lousy day, but I'm not going to make it any worse by admitting it. The first step towards changing things around you is to start with the words from your mouth!
Confess goodness over your life, and chances are, goodness will start following you wherever you go. It works for me and gives me that little bit extra to go on.
And for the record, the past couple of days have indeed quite been splendid for me.
Actually, my basketball boys lost a friendly match yesterday afternoon. At the end of the game, I had a talk with the coach and we agreed that the mistakes that my boys made were glaring. Yes, we scolded them and they deserved every bit of criticism dished out to them. The boys must know their weaknesses and their strengths, for the first match of the competition is merely days away. We do not have the luxury of time for any more friendly matches. It's back to the court for training, training & training.
As dusk fell, I had a chat with the opponent's teacher in-charge - a gentleman just starting out in the job. As I walked with him to the school gate, my basketball boys walked past us, on the way out of school. The boys, in their customary manners, bid us goodbye. "Goodbye, Mr Ng. Goodbye teacher."
The teacher was stunned. He turned to me and said, "If only my boys were like yours."
At that moment, I was filled with pride with these group of basketball players. From day one, I have always endeavoured to train these boys with strict discipline, manners and character, for those are some of the essential ingredients needed for Fajar basketball team's evolution into a team of genuine class & quality.
While I was really proud of them yesterday, another thought struck me as well. I realised that I must never take these boys for granted. All these boys come under me only for 4 or 5 years in their lives. Within this short period of time, I know I must do my best to teach them about what really, really matters.
Matches can be won or lost, but what is most important is that these boys grow up to be upright men of real quality, gentlemanly in words and deeds, reliable at all times, and trustworthy in every way.
As I bid my players farewell as they walked off into the sunset, I am quite sure that some of them are clearly transforming, right before my very eyes, into fine young men, and I am glad.
Saturday, January 13, 2007
The weekend after the first (mad) week of school
The sky sure looks blue, I thought to myself, as I laid flat on the tennis court, looking up into the heavens.
We were supposed to play tennis.
Actually, we did. Minutes earlier, we stroked a few balls over the net, into the net, into the road outside. The blustery winds didn't help. It was quite hard to judge the flight path of the ball.
It was the Saturday afternoon after the first week of school. Even though formal lessons hadn't started yet, I could sense the fatigue. I think my body was still adjusting to the rigours of work. Maybe my body is just reluctant to move up to a higher gear, after the 2-month break from work.
We gave up hitting the tennis balls. We sat down and had a bit of a chat. Somehow, the surface of the court enticed me to lie down. And so I did, and promptly fell asleep, without much effort, while my missus continued her chat with her good friend.
Nonetheless, I had a good first week of school. It's always good to meet my students and it's always a pleasure to have a chat with them!
We were supposed to play tennis.
Actually, we did. Minutes earlier, we stroked a few balls over the net, into the net, into the road outside. The blustery winds didn't help. It was quite hard to judge the flight path of the ball.
It was the Saturday afternoon after the first week of school. Even though formal lessons hadn't started yet, I could sense the fatigue. I think my body was still adjusting to the rigours of work. Maybe my body is just reluctant to move up to a higher gear, after the 2-month break from work.
We gave up hitting the tennis balls. We sat down and had a bit of a chat. Somehow, the surface of the court enticed me to lie down. And so I did, and promptly fell asleep, without much effort, while my missus continued her chat with her good friend.
Nonetheless, I had a good first week of school. It's always good to meet my students and it's always a pleasure to have a chat with them!
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
Back where I belong
Striding into 4e5, my mind was doing a million processes - what else do I need to tell them? What's the question for the red M&M? Blue M&M? What else will I need to brief the Peer Leaders later? What other school can I contact to arrange a friendly match with my basketball team? There's a million other thoughts zipping around furiously in my mind.
Welcome to the 1st day of school.
Strangely enough, I was really keen on seeing my form class. After a hiatus of 3 years (due to my other responsibilities in the school) the school has asked me to be the class counsellor of 4e5.
I must say, I had a swell time listening to the 4e5 students speak. You know, sometimes they say things that make the class rock with laughter. Sometimes they share fascinating experiences that make me want to probe more.
Walking with them over the next few months, I am optimistic that together, 4e5 will achieve great things. However, the No 1 priority of my class is very simple and straightforward: each and every 4e5 student must punch above their weight and achieve value-added results in their exams and O Levels.
Unfortunately, due to lack of time, it was not possible for everyone to share their holiday experiences with the class and I. I will endeavour to have a word with those who missed out today, and I will be glad to hear their holiday experiences.
Another group of students that I met today was the Peer Leaders. These group of students are raised to make a positive difference to the school and community, and they will have their work cut out tomorrow, when they will lead various groups of Secondary Ones to the different stations in the Sports & Games experience.
While some of the Peer Leaders are a little green, there are some veteran PLs who will be working hand-in-hand with the junior PLs. These are the veterans whom I do expect a high level of guidance, sharing, and role modelling. When it comes to student leadership, there can be absolutely no compromise in standards. The key qualities in student leadership, regardless of whether you're in the Peer Leaders, Student Council or the Prefectorial Board, are leading by example, and serving others selflessly & with humility.
In my movements around the classes and the canteen, my eye is especially sharp on the little details. I do not think it is my height that allows me to particularly observant. I think I am just very sensitive to students, because each student's behaviour, in big and small ways, reveal (or betray) their innermost thoughts and actions.
In the afternoon, I went down to the basketball court for the weekly training, as I have done for the past 4 years, to supervise the boys. I am particularly pleased to have a coach who shares similar views with me and is able to work within the CCA's vision and training schedule.
Looking at the boys, sometimes I ask myself, what is it that makes them keep coming back for more training?
I look at Zhicheng and Colvin. I've seen them since they first stepped into school 4 years ago. I've always wanted to see them grow up to be youths with character, confidence and inspiring.
Today, as I observe the boys training under the coach, I am able to say that Zhicheng and Colvin have served the school well with their God-given talents in basketball, yet on the other hand, I want them to know that there is so much more that they can do for the school, the school that has nurtured them and helped them to grow. I am proud, not just proud of these two youths, but also of the rest of the junior players who are rising up through the ranks. I challenge them to grow up into men with uncompromising character, men who are utterly reliable, men who are completely trustworthy, men who will live their lives for the betterment of their family and community.
When I drove home from school at 7pm, I felt somewhat exhausted. It's been a long long day.
But when I think of the guys and gals of 4e5, the Peer Leaders, the basketball boys, and all the other students whom I have seen today, then I think that today has been quite simply wonderful and well-spent.
Welcome to the 1st day of school.
Strangely enough, I was really keen on seeing my form class. After a hiatus of 3 years (due to my other responsibilities in the school) the school has asked me to be the class counsellor of 4e5.
I must say, I had a swell time listening to the 4e5 students speak. You know, sometimes they say things that make the class rock with laughter. Sometimes they share fascinating experiences that make me want to probe more.
Walking with them over the next few months, I am optimistic that together, 4e5 will achieve great things. However, the No 1 priority of my class is very simple and straightforward: each and every 4e5 student must punch above their weight and achieve value-added results in their exams and O Levels.
Unfortunately, due to lack of time, it was not possible for everyone to share their holiday experiences with the class and I. I will endeavour to have a word with those who missed out today, and I will be glad to hear their holiday experiences.
Another group of students that I met today was the Peer Leaders. These group of students are raised to make a positive difference to the school and community, and they will have their work cut out tomorrow, when they will lead various groups of Secondary Ones to the different stations in the Sports & Games experience.
While some of the Peer Leaders are a little green, there are some veteran PLs who will be working hand-in-hand with the junior PLs. These are the veterans whom I do expect a high level of guidance, sharing, and role modelling. When it comes to student leadership, there can be absolutely no compromise in standards. The key qualities in student leadership, regardless of whether you're in the Peer Leaders, Student Council or the Prefectorial Board, are leading by example, and serving others selflessly & with humility.
In my movements around the classes and the canteen, my eye is especially sharp on the little details. I do not think it is my height that allows me to particularly observant. I think I am just very sensitive to students, because each student's behaviour, in big and small ways, reveal (or betray) their innermost thoughts and actions.
In the afternoon, I went down to the basketball court for the weekly training, as I have done for the past 4 years, to supervise the boys. I am particularly pleased to have a coach who shares similar views with me and is able to work within the CCA's vision and training schedule.
Looking at the boys, sometimes I ask myself, what is it that makes them keep coming back for more training?
I look at Zhicheng and Colvin. I've seen them since they first stepped into school 4 years ago. I've always wanted to see them grow up to be youths with character, confidence and inspiring.
Today, as I observe the boys training under the coach, I am able to say that Zhicheng and Colvin have served the school well with their God-given talents in basketball, yet on the other hand, I want them to know that there is so much more that they can do for the school, the school that has nurtured them and helped them to grow. I am proud, not just proud of these two youths, but also of the rest of the junior players who are rising up through the ranks. I challenge them to grow up into men with uncompromising character, men who are utterly reliable, men who are completely trustworthy, men who will live their lives for the betterment of their family and community.
When I drove home from school at 7pm, I felt somewhat exhausted. It's been a long long day.
But when I think of the guys and gals of 4e5, the Peer Leaders, the basketball boys, and all the other students whom I have seen today, then I think that today has been quite simply wonderful and well-spent.
Monday, January 01, 2007
A childhood love
Current fav song: Stolen by Dashboard Confessions
My love for History remains unabated.
One memory I always reminisce with unadulterated pride and bitter regret is how I relished taking History exams during my St Joseph's days.
From Secondary One through to my O Level year, I scored a string of distinctions for that particular subject. Topics ranging from Kings Mongkut & Chulalongkorn, monarchs of Siam, to the rise and wane of the colonial powers in Southeast Asia simply whetted my appetite and I was accustomed to scoring As in every major examinations.
Sometimes I wonder, where did my love for History start from?
I can vaguely recall writing a composition when I was in Secondary One, when my intimidating English teacher, Mr Peter Martens, asked us to write on a great person in history.
So I did some research, and found this entry in the Encyclopedia Britannica titled, "Genghis Khan". I read and read and became more and more fascinated with this ancient ruler whose fearsome soldiers decimated grand empires in China and the Middle East.
The flame had been ignited.
It is ironic that while History was my source of pride (in that my love for this subject coupled with hard work really paid off handsome dividends in the exams), History was also the cause of my greatest heartbreak in Secondary 4.
With my streak of good results, I was harbouring thoughts of securing the Best History student prize in the Secondary 4 level. I had a realistic chance. My 'rivals' numbered less than 2 or 3, from the other classes, and there was every chance that I could pip them to this prize. I was confident of my ability and my hopes hinged on the all-important Preliminary Examinations.
It was that simple: score a good A1 in the Prelims (I got the A1 in my mid-year exams), and hope that the others messed their papers up.
Sitting for the exam paper, I looked through the essay questions and hummed to myself as I casually glanced through the pages. Yep, I could do most of the questions. I got down to writing the essays.
Some days later, brimming with confidence, my History teacher handed our scripts back to us.
I was baffled speechless when I saw my grade. Instead of an A1, I scored only a B3. I looked through the essays I had written, desperately trying to find out what went wrong.
Alas, I had failed one essay question. I looked at it thoroughly, and my mistake became apparent to me.
I had answered the question wrongly. My overconfidence and complacency had caused me to mis-read that essay question.
The disappointment was truly immense. It took months to subside. Of course, I lost that Best History student prize. That B3 that I scored didn't have a chance. Later on, I found out that the eventual winner of the prize scored an A1 in his Prelims. At that time, I muttered to myself, "it should have been me."
I managed to retrieve the pieces of my shattered confidence, by working twice as hard for the massive O Level exams. The spectre of missing out on a distinction for my best subject was something I had to avoid at all costs.
Receiving my O Level result slip some months later, it was with a great sense of bittersweet satisfaction, when my eyes searched and found the History grade. What might have been euphoria for me was tempered by the sombre reminder of that one poor performance in that school exam.
Today, I'm reading a book on the Roman Empire. Through the years, even after I've graduated from SJI, I've not lost my passion for history. Over the past few months, I've read books on the Crusades, Middle Eastern history, Chinese history, the Holocaust, the Hundred Years' War between England and France, and now, I'm glued to this book that chronicles the greatest Roman generals that helped to build up the mighty Roman Empire that lasted for over a thousand years.
The 'B3' episode has taught me a lesson in life, and that's never to be complacent. Even in areas that you are good at, good results are never guaranteed unless there's consistent hard work & self-belief. The quickest way to your downfall would be pride and to have that wicked delusion that minimal work will get you maximum results. Unfortunately, I think I was guilty of the former.
On the other side of the coin, I think I discovered a subject that I truly love. Reading history books may be torturous for some, but for me, it's like savouring fine wine - the older, the better!
My love for History remains unabated.
One memory I always reminisce with unadulterated pride and bitter regret is how I relished taking History exams during my St Joseph's days.
From Secondary One through to my O Level year, I scored a string of distinctions for that particular subject. Topics ranging from Kings Mongkut & Chulalongkorn, monarchs of Siam, to the rise and wane of the colonial powers in Southeast Asia simply whetted my appetite and I was accustomed to scoring As in every major examinations.
Sometimes I wonder, where did my love for History start from?
I can vaguely recall writing a composition when I was in Secondary One, when my intimidating English teacher, Mr Peter Martens, asked us to write on a great person in history.
So I did some research, and found this entry in the Encyclopedia Britannica titled, "Genghis Khan". I read and read and became more and more fascinated with this ancient ruler whose fearsome soldiers decimated grand empires in China and the Middle East.
The flame had been ignited.
It is ironic that while History was my source of pride (in that my love for this subject coupled with hard work really paid off handsome dividends in the exams), History was also the cause of my greatest heartbreak in Secondary 4.
With my streak of good results, I was harbouring thoughts of securing the Best History student prize in the Secondary 4 level. I had a realistic chance. My 'rivals' numbered less than 2 or 3, from the other classes, and there was every chance that I could pip them to this prize. I was confident of my ability and my hopes hinged on the all-important Preliminary Examinations.
It was that simple: score a good A1 in the Prelims (I got the A1 in my mid-year exams), and hope that the others messed their papers up.
Sitting for the exam paper, I looked through the essay questions and hummed to myself as I casually glanced through the pages. Yep, I could do most of the questions. I got down to writing the essays.
Some days later, brimming with confidence, my History teacher handed our scripts back to us.
I was baffled speechless when I saw my grade. Instead of an A1, I scored only a B3. I looked through the essays I had written, desperately trying to find out what went wrong.
Alas, I had failed one essay question. I looked at it thoroughly, and my mistake became apparent to me.
I had answered the question wrongly. My overconfidence and complacency had caused me to mis-read that essay question.
The disappointment was truly immense. It took months to subside. Of course, I lost that Best History student prize. That B3 that I scored didn't have a chance. Later on, I found out that the eventual winner of the prize scored an A1 in his Prelims. At that time, I muttered to myself, "it should have been me."
I managed to retrieve the pieces of my shattered confidence, by working twice as hard for the massive O Level exams. The spectre of missing out on a distinction for my best subject was something I had to avoid at all costs.
Receiving my O Level result slip some months later, it was with a great sense of bittersweet satisfaction, when my eyes searched and found the History grade. What might have been euphoria for me was tempered by the sombre reminder of that one poor performance in that school exam.
Today, I'm reading a book on the Roman Empire. Through the years, even after I've graduated from SJI, I've not lost my passion for history. Over the past few months, I've read books on the Crusades, Middle Eastern history, Chinese history, the Holocaust, the Hundred Years' War between England and France, and now, I'm glued to this book that chronicles the greatest Roman generals that helped to build up the mighty Roman Empire that lasted for over a thousand years.
The 'B3' episode has taught me a lesson in life, and that's never to be complacent. Even in areas that you are good at, good results are never guaranteed unless there's consistent hard work & self-belief. The quickest way to your downfall would be pride and to have that wicked delusion that minimal work will get you maximum results. Unfortunately, I think I was guilty of the former.
On the other side of the coin, I think I discovered a subject that I truly love. Reading history books may be torturous for some, but for me, it's like savouring fine wine - the older, the better!
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
Melting pot of joy, relief and heartbreak
I extended my hand to Weena, and said to her, "Congratulations. See you next year."
How I wish I could say that to every student in 4A1.
Collecting any exam results is always a huge day in any student's calendar. Yesterday was no exception, when the N Level results were released.
So, as me and my colleague issued out the result slips to students individually, some students yelped with joy. Some remained stoic, while some had eyes that turned glassy. Their countenances told it all about the kind of results they received.
The hall was almost empty now. Sitting on the floor were some students, consoling those who were still visibly upset over their results. Some were from my class.
I sat down next to them, and didn't speak a word. I didn't know what to say but I wanted to show them support just by being there.
Later one of them shared about her fear of her parents' reaction if she told them her result. I understood how she felt. I've been there before.
So I got her Dad's number, and spoke to him. Essentially, I told the dad about his daughter's results and asked him to go easy on her when she got home later.
Surprisingly, when I revealed her daughter's results to him, the dad said to me,"It's ok. I'm sure she did her best."
So, after our conversation ended, I went over to my student and told her what her dad said. She heaved a sigh of relief, with a tinge of disbelief in it too.
When she smiled, I smiled with her.
Poor exam results need not always spell doom and gloom. On the other hand, it's a pity how some brash youths, belittling sound advice from others, sometimes learn only after they make a mistake.
Some of them lamented to me, "If only I had studied hard," or "If only I had listened to my teachers in class."
Although not all of my students in 4A1, or even 4A2 and 4A3 (all whom I have taught before) will be returning to Fajar on the first day of school, I would like to wish all these students all the best. With a positive attitude and hard work, you will prosper in all that you do.
To those folks who are returning to Fajar, it'll be great if I can teach you again in 2007. Enjoy the holidays!
How I wish I could say that to every student in 4A1.
Collecting any exam results is always a huge day in any student's calendar. Yesterday was no exception, when the N Level results were released.
So, as me and my colleague issued out the result slips to students individually, some students yelped with joy. Some remained stoic, while some had eyes that turned glassy. Their countenances told it all about the kind of results they received.
The hall was almost empty now. Sitting on the floor were some students, consoling those who were still visibly upset over their results. Some were from my class.
I sat down next to them, and didn't speak a word. I didn't know what to say but I wanted to show them support just by being there.
Later one of them shared about her fear of her parents' reaction if she told them her result. I understood how she felt. I've been there before.
So I got her Dad's number, and spoke to him. Essentially, I told the dad about his daughter's results and asked him to go easy on her when she got home later.
Surprisingly, when I revealed her daughter's results to him, the dad said to me,"It's ok. I'm sure she did her best."
So, after our conversation ended, I went over to my student and told her what her dad said. She heaved a sigh of relief, with a tinge of disbelief in it too.
When she smiled, I smiled with her.
Poor exam results need not always spell doom and gloom. On the other hand, it's a pity how some brash youths, belittling sound advice from others, sometimes learn only after they make a mistake.
Some of them lamented to me, "If only I had studied hard," or "If only I had listened to my teachers in class."
Although not all of my students in 4A1, or even 4A2 and 4A3 (all whom I have taught before) will be returning to Fajar on the first day of school, I would like to wish all these students all the best. With a positive attitude and hard work, you will prosper in all that you do.
To those folks who are returning to Fajar, it'll be great if I can teach you again in 2007. Enjoy the holidays!
Sunday, December 17, 2006
Is that how you speak?
I am genuinely fed-up with people who, upon meeting me, start by asking about where my wife is.
Is there no other thing to ask about, than that tiresome and stale question?
It is such a conversation killer and quite simply, it puts me off.
This is how I work. If I see you, and if we chat, I'll ask about you. I'm interested in your life, so I try to catch up with what is happening with you. I don't go shooting off my mouth and ask questions about everyone else and everything else, except you.
You get the drift?
Alas, some people I meet, even some friends, are like that. First thing they say, when they see me, is, "your wife is flying?"
Completely irrelevant and absurd.
However, this is more of an exception than the rule. You see, there are also often times during conversations with others where we talk about each other, talk about work, talk about the good things and the bad things that come our way. So, even if that question, "She's flying?" is raised, I'm actually very pleased to share, because at least we're having a decent conversation.
Is there no other thing to ask about, than that tiresome and stale question?
It is such a conversation killer and quite simply, it puts me off.
This is how I work. If I see you, and if we chat, I'll ask about you. I'm interested in your life, so I try to catch up with what is happening with you. I don't go shooting off my mouth and ask questions about everyone else and everything else, except you.
You get the drift?
Alas, some people I meet, even some friends, are like that. First thing they say, when they see me, is, "your wife is flying?"
Completely irrelevant and absurd.
However, this is more of an exception than the rule. You see, there are also often times during conversations with others where we talk about each other, talk about work, talk about the good things and the bad things that come our way. So, even if that question, "She's flying?" is raised, I'm actually very pleased to share, because at least we're having a decent conversation.
Sunday, December 03, 2006
Sheer punishment
It's not my fastest marathon.
While it was dehydration that derailed my attempts to achieve my target timing in 2005, this time, it was the paralysing cramps that gripped my legs which refused to go away.
At the most difficult moments of the race, when the kilometre markers seemed so distant, your mind really plays games with you. It takes sheer grit and mental discipline to focus your exhausted mind on finishing the race, rather than to succumb to the easy way out and fall out of the run.
I still retained that spring in my step, even past the 30-kilometre mark. But gradually, the cramps locked my hamstrings and calf muscles in a vice-like grip. Running became impossible at the last 5 kilometres. All I could do was hobble as fast as I could.
At the last bend of the road straightening to the finish line next to the Padang, I picked up enough momentum to run again, painfully.
Crossing the finishing line this time, however, provided less satisfaction compared to the past 3 years.
Maybe it is time to do something else, I thought, as I sat in the taxi on the way home.
I was really glad to be home. Feeling thirsty, I was about to pour myself a glass of water when I saw a glass of barley on the kitchen table.
Ah, it's my wife, who got me this drink just before she left for work.
That barley drink was the best I've ever downed in all my life!
While it was dehydration that derailed my attempts to achieve my target timing in 2005, this time, it was the paralysing cramps that gripped my legs which refused to go away.
At the most difficult moments of the race, when the kilometre markers seemed so distant, your mind really plays games with you. It takes sheer grit and mental discipline to focus your exhausted mind on finishing the race, rather than to succumb to the easy way out and fall out of the run.
I still retained that spring in my step, even past the 30-kilometre mark. But gradually, the cramps locked my hamstrings and calf muscles in a vice-like grip. Running became impossible at the last 5 kilometres. All I could do was hobble as fast as I could.
At the last bend of the road straightening to the finish line next to the Padang, I picked up enough momentum to run again, painfully.
Crossing the finishing line this time, however, provided less satisfaction compared to the past 3 years.
Maybe it is time to do something else, I thought, as I sat in the taxi on the way home.
I was really glad to be home. Feeling thirsty, I was about to pour myself a glass of water when I saw a glass of barley on the kitchen table.
Ah, it's my wife, who got me this drink just before she left for work.
That barley drink was the best I've ever downed in all my life!
Sunday, November 26, 2006
Completion of an unfinished work
Almost 2 years ago, I embarked on my quest to achieve my dream to be able to drive a boat.
So, in 2004, when my friend approached me to take up the powered pleasure boat license course with him, I jumped onto the bandwagon without any hesitation.
After the evening theory lessons, held at a yacht club in an obscure corner of West Coast area, I quickly signed up for the theory test.
The regulations stated very clearly that I had to pass my theory test first, before I could sign up for the practical handling test. I planned to clear all these tests within the space of a few months and I couldn't wait to lay my hands on the boat licence.
The theory test seemed straightforward enough: There were only 30 MCQ questions and in order to pass this test, I had to score 27 points and above.
So I studied hard, but complacency did set in. I've always had the ability to retain much information without much effort when I study, but I think I might have carried this thought a little too far that time.
Sitting for the theory test in a musty old computer laboratory in Singapore Polytechnic, I sat dumbfounded at two or three questions, where the answer proved to be elusive.
Nonetheless, I clicked quickly at the answers I thought should be correct.
When I received the score sheet a short while later, I received a rude shock.
My score? 26 out of 30.
I was infuriated with myself. It was scant consolation that my friend, and a few others also received similar results.
Why should I feel better just because everyone else is doing just as badly?
So, I quickly signed up for the next available re-test, and this time, I made sure I studied the notes thoroughly.
As I sat for the test again in early 2005, some of the questions stumped me again. Again, some of the answers I put down were pure guesswork. My score for this test?
27 out of 30.
I did it!
My friend passed too, so mutual congratulations became the order of the day. We agreed to book the practical test date as soon as possible.
That was in Jan 2005. Months passed. Endless work committments thwarted our plans to take the practical test. In fact, the thoughts of booking the test date diminished from our memories as our work load demanded our fullest attention and energy.
The critical juncture came last month, when I realised that our theory test result would expire in Jan 2007. That meant that we had to urgently book the test date for the practical handling test. Once my theory test results expires, I would have to re-sit for the entire theory test again. I certainly do not want that to happen.
And so, my colleague and I went to book the test, and we were relieved to be able to have the test in early November.
The test itself required us to show competence in driving the boat, to be able to unberth the boat safely, to be able to perform the man overboard manoeuvre, and to be able to berth the boat at a designated jetty.
On the test day, the weather certainly wasn't on our side. While waiting for the testers to arrive in the boat shed, the dark skies poured relentlessly. Looking at the choppy waters in the bay, it was very easy for all of us to be anxious.
When it was my turn, I went through all the pre-start checks with the tester perfectly. The unwieldy waters did not matter at all, as I executed the manoeuvres well enough, even in the chilly rain. I was already drenched as I stepped out of the boat after completing the test, and waddled back to the boat shed, where it was much warmer and provided welcome shelter from the incessant rain.
Inside the tester's office, I sat opposite the tester. This was the final part of the practical handling test where I would be asked a series of questions on the regulations of the sea in Singapore waters, and what I would do in situations of potential danger, such as collisions between vessels in the open sea. I answered his questions in the best way I knew: calm, sensible, and logical.
And so, the tester extended his hand to me, and my hand reached out to meet his in a firm handshake, and he then congratulated me on passing the test.
Getting this boat license is definitely a high point for me this year. It marked an end to a quest that started over 2 years ago. With this done, I can now move on to other challenges for the future. Among other personal targets, I hope to be able to get the Kayaking and Basketball Coaching certificates.
A more immediate and daunting target looms over this weekend.
This Sunday, the Big Race is here - the Standard Chartered Singapore Marathon.
I'll be running in the full marathon - all 42.195km of it.
My personal goal for this race? It would be to finish the marathon, and get that medal and the finisher t-shirt!
And once that's done, it's straight back home to pack my luggage, for that long flight to the Middle East that's scheduled on the very next day, for my 2-week holiday.
Quite an exciting next few days, isn't it.
So, in 2004, when my friend approached me to take up the powered pleasure boat license course with him, I jumped onto the bandwagon without any hesitation.
After the evening theory lessons, held at a yacht club in an obscure corner of West Coast area, I quickly signed up for the theory test.
The regulations stated very clearly that I had to pass my theory test first, before I could sign up for the practical handling test. I planned to clear all these tests within the space of a few months and I couldn't wait to lay my hands on the boat licence.
The theory test seemed straightforward enough: There were only 30 MCQ questions and in order to pass this test, I had to score 27 points and above.
So I studied hard, but complacency did set in. I've always had the ability to retain much information without much effort when I study, but I think I might have carried this thought a little too far that time.
Sitting for the theory test in a musty old computer laboratory in Singapore Polytechnic, I sat dumbfounded at two or three questions, where the answer proved to be elusive.
Nonetheless, I clicked quickly at the answers I thought should be correct.
When I received the score sheet a short while later, I received a rude shock.
My score? 26 out of 30.
I was infuriated with myself. It was scant consolation that my friend, and a few others also received similar results.
Why should I feel better just because everyone else is doing just as badly?
So, I quickly signed up for the next available re-test, and this time, I made sure I studied the notes thoroughly.
As I sat for the test again in early 2005, some of the questions stumped me again. Again, some of the answers I put down were pure guesswork. My score for this test?
27 out of 30.
I did it!
My friend passed too, so mutual congratulations became the order of the day. We agreed to book the practical test date as soon as possible.
That was in Jan 2005. Months passed. Endless work committments thwarted our plans to take the practical test. In fact, the thoughts of booking the test date diminished from our memories as our work load demanded our fullest attention and energy.
The critical juncture came last month, when I realised that our theory test result would expire in Jan 2007. That meant that we had to urgently book the test date for the practical handling test. Once my theory test results expires, I would have to re-sit for the entire theory test again. I certainly do not want that to happen.
And so, my colleague and I went to book the test, and we were relieved to be able to have the test in early November.
The test itself required us to show competence in driving the boat, to be able to unberth the boat safely, to be able to perform the man overboard manoeuvre, and to be able to berth the boat at a designated jetty.
On the test day, the weather certainly wasn't on our side. While waiting for the testers to arrive in the boat shed, the dark skies poured relentlessly. Looking at the choppy waters in the bay, it was very easy for all of us to be anxious.
When it was my turn, I went through all the pre-start checks with the tester perfectly. The unwieldy waters did not matter at all, as I executed the manoeuvres well enough, even in the chilly rain. I was already drenched as I stepped out of the boat after completing the test, and waddled back to the boat shed, where it was much warmer and provided welcome shelter from the incessant rain.
Inside the tester's office, I sat opposite the tester. This was the final part of the practical handling test where I would be asked a series of questions on the regulations of the sea in Singapore waters, and what I would do in situations of potential danger, such as collisions between vessels in the open sea. I answered his questions in the best way I knew: calm, sensible, and logical.
And so, the tester extended his hand to me, and my hand reached out to meet his in a firm handshake, and he then congratulated me on passing the test.
Getting this boat license is definitely a high point for me this year. It marked an end to a quest that started over 2 years ago. With this done, I can now move on to other challenges for the future. Among other personal targets, I hope to be able to get the Kayaking and Basketball Coaching certificates.
A more immediate and daunting target looms over this weekend.
This Sunday, the Big Race is here - the Standard Chartered Singapore Marathon.
I'll be running in the full marathon - all 42.195km of it.
My personal goal for this race? It would be to finish the marathon, and get that medal and the finisher t-shirt!
And once that's done, it's straight back home to pack my luggage, for that long flight to the Middle East that's scheduled on the very next day, for my 2-week holiday.
Quite an exciting next few days, isn't it.
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
Not a bad camp at all
It was unexpected.
Moments before, I was on the raft, paddling over a rapid that did not seem too threatening to us.
Next thing I knew?
My upper body went over the side of the raft, and the swirling cold water engulfed me as I toppled into the river!
My plan had been to stay on the raft and stay dry. Looks like nature had other better ideas! You see, I had primed myself to be the rescuer of students in case they fell over. But I didn't have a Plan B - I just didn't see myself losing my balance on the raft over the treacherously fast waters of the river.
I didn't think that I would die from drowning. Dying of embarrassment? More likely!
I just couldn't stop laughing at myself in disbelief, as I dragged myself up onto the boat, completely soused, and continued paddling.
What made it better was when my colleague (sitting next to me) also tumbled into the water. And further down the raging river, when even the guide slipped into the water with great aplomb, that was the icing on the cake!
So those were some of my favourite moments of the Sec 3 Adventure Camp, where a group of teachers, including me, and some intrepid students headed to Adeline Campsite in Gopeng, Perak for an adventure of a lifetime.
I am sure most participants would agree with me that this camp was utterly fun and enriching.
Even to me, I have no qualms in saying that I had a rolling good time. I am never quick in dismissing anything or anyone as boring.
What I always try to do is to make the best out of any situation, no matter how challenging or unbearable, and try to have a good time and learn something out of it.
Other than personal adventures, another memory of this camp would surely be our visit to the Vision Home - a sanctuary for orphans - tucked away in a quiet corner of a small quaint town.
As we arrived, the boys in the Home scurried out to peer at us. Their smiles broke down any ice that might have stood between them and us.
It was with great pleasure when we handed them gifts - books, shirts, toys, stationary. I am sure that our gifts will bless them richly.
It was with a heavy heart, when it was time for us to bid farewell to these kids. Though fate may have dealt them a seemingly cruel blow, I believe that their future remains bright. With proper guidance, teaching of the correct values, and sheer hard work, they will rise above their present circumstances and achieve success in lfe.
Through this camp, I have seen facets of my students that I have never seen before. I elected to observe keenly those students, ever on the lookout for acts of valour, selflessness, resilience.
When I see students overcoming their fears in conquering the caves, bravely crossing the swollen rivers in the torrential rains, traversing steep slopes inch by inch, pushing on in spite of injuries, I feel proud of them. They have done well.
But my greatest salutations must go to my boss, Mr Maran. On the first day, he suffered horrific injuries to his hand - two large wooden splints had embedded themselves into his palm, while he was sliding down the slope on the way to the river crossing - and he endured the entire camp with the pain (sleepless nights even) and the swell that accompanied the injury.
He suffered all these without a single complaint.
And so it is with great men - they do not make a big deal out of unfavourable circumstances. They just get on with it and do the job.
Indeed, we need more young men of fine mettle in Fajar who possess the same spirit of endurance and fighting spirit.
Moments before, I was on the raft, paddling over a rapid that did not seem too threatening to us.
Next thing I knew?
My upper body went over the side of the raft, and the swirling cold water engulfed me as I toppled into the river!
My plan had been to stay on the raft and stay dry. Looks like nature had other better ideas! You see, I had primed myself to be the rescuer of students in case they fell over. But I didn't have a Plan B - I just didn't see myself losing my balance on the raft over the treacherously fast waters of the river.
I didn't think that I would die from drowning. Dying of embarrassment? More likely!
I just couldn't stop laughing at myself in disbelief, as I dragged myself up onto the boat, completely soused, and continued paddling.
What made it better was when my colleague (sitting next to me) also tumbled into the water. And further down the raging river, when even the guide slipped into the water with great aplomb, that was the icing on the cake!
So those were some of my favourite moments of the Sec 3 Adventure Camp, where a group of teachers, including me, and some intrepid students headed to Adeline Campsite in Gopeng, Perak for an adventure of a lifetime.
I am sure most participants would agree with me that this camp was utterly fun and enriching.
Even to me, I have no qualms in saying that I had a rolling good time. I am never quick in dismissing anything or anyone as boring.
What I always try to do is to make the best out of any situation, no matter how challenging or unbearable, and try to have a good time and learn something out of it.
Other than personal adventures, another memory of this camp would surely be our visit to the Vision Home - a sanctuary for orphans - tucked away in a quiet corner of a small quaint town.
As we arrived, the boys in the Home scurried out to peer at us. Their smiles broke down any ice that might have stood between them and us.
It was with great pleasure when we handed them gifts - books, shirts, toys, stationary. I am sure that our gifts will bless them richly.
It was with a heavy heart, when it was time for us to bid farewell to these kids. Though fate may have dealt them a seemingly cruel blow, I believe that their future remains bright. With proper guidance, teaching of the correct values, and sheer hard work, they will rise above their present circumstances and achieve success in lfe.
Through this camp, I have seen facets of my students that I have never seen before. I elected to observe keenly those students, ever on the lookout for acts of valour, selflessness, resilience.
When I see students overcoming their fears in conquering the caves, bravely crossing the swollen rivers in the torrential rains, traversing steep slopes inch by inch, pushing on in spite of injuries, I feel proud of them. They have done well.
But my greatest salutations must go to my boss, Mr Maran. On the first day, he suffered horrific injuries to his hand - two large wooden splints had embedded themselves into his palm, while he was sliding down the slope on the way to the river crossing - and he endured the entire camp with the pain (sleepless nights even) and the swell that accompanied the injury.
He suffered all these without a single complaint.
And so it is with great men - they do not make a big deal out of unfavourable circumstances. They just get on with it and do the job.
Indeed, we need more young men of fine mettle in Fajar who possess the same spirit of endurance and fighting spirit.
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
We shall meet again
No matter who you are and what you do, it is very easy to get caught up in the day-to-day activities that take up our energies.
Our youthful stamina and live-for-the-moment attitude can blind us to this simple fact of life: that we are only human and we are fragile.
The visit to the ICU proved to be one of the most painful episodes in my career this far.
Lying on the bed was a student of mine.
I remember how she would walk down those steps to the parade square with her regular group. I remember how sometimes she would walk past me and greet me. And I would greet her back. I know she's a good girl.
Yet now she lies in her current comatose state.
It is something that I find it impossible to reconcile.
No one should have the right to snuff out a young person's vitality and essence. No one.
No one could have predicted this to happen.
Standing in the ICU ward with colleagues and her mum, I bent low, looking at her countenance. Her eyes are closed, and I can hear the breathing apparatus and the whrring and humming of the medical equipment that are designed to keep her alive.
It was heart-wrenching to see her like this.
My colleague and I gazed at her, both of us willing her to just open her eyes, to sit up, to have a conversation with us.
We had so much to say, but we found it virtually impossible to articulate our thoughts out. The silence in the room choked our words.
When I could finally speak out, all I could utter was, "Cindy."
Her mum stood with us and her undying love and patience was apparent to all. She kept talking to her beloved daughter. She massaged her limp hands, saying the same things she always said to her.
Her dad stood outside, arms crossed, looking in. He looked gaunt and worried.
It is very very tough on the parents.
We left the hospital, our mood sombre, and we dread to think how we could have handled this if it had happened to our own family. As it is, the family needs our support, and in the most practical sense, they need the financial support to pay the hefty medical bills.
It is good that the school is rallying support and the momentum is building up for fund-raising efforts for Cindy. As a collective soul, the school can do great works and make a substantial contribution to help the family tide through this crises, if every Fajarian takes a step forward and gives sincerely.
You see, Cindy is not just another Fajar student. She is a unique individual, she is loved by many around, and she has many unfulfilled dreams and potential in her. She deserves all the support and encouragement that she and her family can get.
As I spoke to her in the ICU, I never wondered whether she could hear me or not.
I know that Cindy hears every single word that we say to her.
Cindy, you must break free of the coma. The human body is capable of miracles and a body that is broken can be made whole again. I know you are able to hear us all.
Come back real soon, yea?
We all can't wait to see you back in school again.
Our youthful stamina and live-for-the-moment attitude can blind us to this simple fact of life: that we are only human and we are fragile.
The visit to the ICU proved to be one of the most painful episodes in my career this far.
Lying on the bed was a student of mine.
I remember how she would walk down those steps to the parade square with her regular group. I remember how sometimes she would walk past me and greet me. And I would greet her back. I know she's a good girl.
Yet now she lies in her current comatose state.
It is something that I find it impossible to reconcile.
No one should have the right to snuff out a young person's vitality and essence. No one.
No one could have predicted this to happen.
Standing in the ICU ward with colleagues and her mum, I bent low, looking at her countenance. Her eyes are closed, and I can hear the breathing apparatus and the whrring and humming of the medical equipment that are designed to keep her alive.
It was heart-wrenching to see her like this.
My colleague and I gazed at her, both of us willing her to just open her eyes, to sit up, to have a conversation with us.
We had so much to say, but we found it virtually impossible to articulate our thoughts out. The silence in the room choked our words.
When I could finally speak out, all I could utter was, "Cindy."
Her mum stood with us and her undying love and patience was apparent to all. She kept talking to her beloved daughter. She massaged her limp hands, saying the same things she always said to her.
Her dad stood outside, arms crossed, looking in. He looked gaunt and worried.
It is very very tough on the parents.
We left the hospital, our mood sombre, and we dread to think how we could have handled this if it had happened to our own family. As it is, the family needs our support, and in the most practical sense, they need the financial support to pay the hefty medical bills.
It is good that the school is rallying support and the momentum is building up for fund-raising efforts for Cindy. As a collective soul, the school can do great works and make a substantial contribution to help the family tide through this crises, if every Fajarian takes a step forward and gives sincerely.
You see, Cindy is not just another Fajar student. She is a unique individual, she is loved by many around, and she has many unfulfilled dreams and potential in her. She deserves all the support and encouragement that she and her family can get.
As I spoke to her in the ICU, I never wondered whether she could hear me or not.
I know that Cindy hears every single word that we say to her.
Cindy, you must break free of the coma. The human body is capable of miracles and a body that is broken can be made whole again. I know you are able to hear us all.
Come back real soon, yea?
We all can't wait to see you back in school again.
Monday, October 09, 2006
durians: never ever
O most foul of fruits.
It doesn't even look like a fruit.
Fruits are supposed to be juicy, squishy, sweet, and usually colourful.
Not this fruit.
Just a couple of days ago, two mad couples played a friendly game of tennis, in the most pleasant of mornings when the haze meter hit 150.
We could still see the ball whizzing here and there, thank goodness. The haze is not that bad on ground level.
My wife and I enjoy engaging in sports with our friends Alex & Evie. A very sporty and lovely couple, they are!
After the game, we adjourned for lunch and after lunch, we had the pleasure of having ice-cream.
My wife ordered durian ice-cream. She loves it. I can't hold that against her.
But it's a different matter when, after finishing half a cone of that revolting ice-cream, she starts blowing her breath in my direction.
Apparently she must enjoy seeing my long-suffering face, as I grimace at the slightest whiff of that loathful stench! You should see how it invigorates her when she plays this cruel joke on me!
How strange that to some people, they say that durians are very delicious. I simply cannot comprehend that.
As for me, I am very happy to enjoy my little piece of heaven - one scoop of vanilla ice-cream, thank you very much.
Finally, my friends who know this about me never fails to point out that there are a lot of food that I don't take, such as mushrooms.
I could make a list of them.
But at the top of that list?
Durians.
Hate 'em!
It doesn't even look like a fruit.
Fruits are supposed to be juicy, squishy, sweet, and usually colourful.
Not this fruit.
Just a couple of days ago, two mad couples played a friendly game of tennis, in the most pleasant of mornings when the haze meter hit 150.
We could still see the ball whizzing here and there, thank goodness. The haze is not that bad on ground level.
My wife and I enjoy engaging in sports with our friends Alex & Evie. A very sporty and lovely couple, they are!
After the game, we adjourned for lunch and after lunch, we had the pleasure of having ice-cream.
My wife ordered durian ice-cream. She loves it. I can't hold that against her.
But it's a different matter when, after finishing half a cone of that revolting ice-cream, she starts blowing her breath in my direction.
Apparently she must enjoy seeing my long-suffering face, as I grimace at the slightest whiff of that loathful stench! You should see how it invigorates her when she plays this cruel joke on me!
How strange that to some people, they say that durians are very delicious. I simply cannot comprehend that.
As for me, I am very happy to enjoy my little piece of heaven - one scoop of vanilla ice-cream, thank you very much.
Finally, my friends who know this about me never fails to point out that there are a lot of food that I don't take, such as mushrooms.
I could make a list of them.
But at the top of that list?
Durians.
Hate 'em!
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
Dream awakened?
Clasping my wife's hand, we waited with bated breath.
Glued to the tv set were 3 generations of my wife's family - her parents, her aunt, her brother, and her cousin.
Unanimously, we were all rooting for the same person.
Of course, we all supported him for various reasons.
My wife finds him very suave, second only to me.
My parents-in-law supported him because he sounds better to their ears.
I supported him not because he was the better singer (he wasn't), but because we were from the same alma mater and he sings the rock songs that I like.
My aunt loves him for his sincerity and is determined to send his son to the very same secondary school where we both hailed from.
The suspense was killing us.
We were lost for words when the results was announced. In a way, we already knew. And the country did the right thing. The better one won.
I was quite deflated after that. My wife was clearly disappointed. My aunt was grumbling cheerfully and muttered threats about complaining to TCS. Hilarious.
Having watched this show over the past few months, I realised one thing about me.
There is a big part in me that has already been imbued with an utterly unshakeable pride in being an ex-St Joseph's Institution boy.
I think one of my dreams would be to teach in this great school.
Someday.
Glued to the tv set were 3 generations of my wife's family - her parents, her aunt, her brother, and her cousin.
Unanimously, we were all rooting for the same person.
Of course, we all supported him for various reasons.
My wife finds him very suave, second only to me.
My parents-in-law supported him because he sounds better to their ears.
I supported him not because he was the better singer (he wasn't), but because we were from the same alma mater and he sings the rock songs that I like.
My aunt loves him for his sincerity and is determined to send his son to the very same secondary school where we both hailed from.
The suspense was killing us.
We were lost for words when the results was announced. In a way, we already knew. And the country did the right thing. The better one won.
I was quite deflated after that. My wife was clearly disappointed. My aunt was grumbling cheerfully and muttered threats about complaining to TCS. Hilarious.
Having watched this show over the past few months, I realised one thing about me.
There is a big part in me that has already been imbued with an utterly unshakeable pride in being an ex-St Joseph's Institution boy.
I think one of my dreams would be to teach in this great school.
Someday.
Sunday, September 24, 2006
Friendships that rise and ebb with time
I was shifting uncomfortably in my chair.
Seated around me at the dinner table were friends, who used to be very familiar with me.
Notice the past tense.
A year ago, we would banter easily, ask each other out for meals, sit down together for a chat after a hard day's work.
Sharing our sorrows and joys had cemented the friendships that we shared.
However, some months ago, once I heard that some of them would be shifting to a place further away, I could not help but feel somewhat uneasy about it.
I realised that it meant less opportunities for us to meet up. It would no longer be just a case of popping to my desk and having a quick chat. The sheer distance would grant us fewer chances to see each other.
In spite of this, I made reasonable attempts to pop over to them, whenever I could, to have a word with them. I'd ask them about their day, chat with them about the high and low points. Even when they were ill, I'd drop in the sms and tell them to take care.
I'd still do all these, even when my work became more demanding over the course of time, and consumed more and more of my energies and time from the office.
But my fears still came to pass. Our conversations became rarer. Sometimes, I'd only see them once or twice a week. Sometimes, a whole week would go by without saying a word to them, simply because our respective work duties took us away from the common office that we shared. We simply met no more, except in sporadic instances.
To be fair, there is one or two of them who also worked as hard as me to keep the friendship going. Whenever we meet, it wouldn't just be me who would take the initiative to ask, "How are you?" Sometimes, these people asked me back the same question, and I'd think to myself, "That's nice."
I think my notion of having a proper conversation doesn't simply have to revolve around gossip, complaints about colleagues, mundane jokes and other superficial issues.
It's about asking the other person, "How are you?" I believe that this question opens up possibilities and whenever I ask that sort of question, I'd like to think that I'm genuinely interested in the life of the other party and finding out how's life been good or tough on him or her.
I've met many people in my journey of life, and I'm glad to say that I've had the pleasure of meeting some who are simply a joy to talk to. One hallmark of such people, I must say, is that they make it a point to ask about your life - and we can have a heartfelt conversation that transcends the mundane and superficial matters of the world.
On the other hand I've also met people that I simply cannot connect with. It's fine, of course. It's completely unrealistic to expect myself to get along with everybody I meet. But I certainly won't bother myself nor worry unneccessarily if I have nothing to say. No need for pretensions. If there's nothing to say to that person, I'll just leave it as it is.
And so, over at the dinner table yesterday evening, I found it difficult to talk. Yes, there were humourous jokes, words exchanged to and fro, smiles all around between the others seated at the same table as me. But in such a large company of people, paradoxically, it became even harder for me to talk.
Having too many people, I have learnt, diminishes that chance of having a meaningful conversation with that one or two persons.
I am not convinced that many people would understand this.
My stand is this: friendships takes both parties to work at it in order for it to blossom and enrich the lives of both. Distance should never be an issue if both takes extra measures and a little bit of time and initiative to communicate with each other and to say 'Hi, how are you?'
That means a lot.
The absence of communication, on the other hand, can cause a friendship, no matter how strong, to crumble into ruins.
Seated around me at the dinner table were friends, who used to be very familiar with me.
Notice the past tense.
A year ago, we would banter easily, ask each other out for meals, sit down together for a chat after a hard day's work.
Sharing our sorrows and joys had cemented the friendships that we shared.
However, some months ago, once I heard that some of them would be shifting to a place further away, I could not help but feel somewhat uneasy about it.
I realised that it meant less opportunities for us to meet up. It would no longer be just a case of popping to my desk and having a quick chat. The sheer distance would grant us fewer chances to see each other.
In spite of this, I made reasonable attempts to pop over to them, whenever I could, to have a word with them. I'd ask them about their day, chat with them about the high and low points. Even when they were ill, I'd drop in the sms and tell them to take care.
I'd still do all these, even when my work became more demanding over the course of time, and consumed more and more of my energies and time from the office.
But my fears still came to pass. Our conversations became rarer. Sometimes, I'd only see them once or twice a week. Sometimes, a whole week would go by without saying a word to them, simply because our respective work duties took us away from the common office that we shared. We simply met no more, except in sporadic instances.
To be fair, there is one or two of them who also worked as hard as me to keep the friendship going. Whenever we meet, it wouldn't just be me who would take the initiative to ask, "How are you?" Sometimes, these people asked me back the same question, and I'd think to myself, "That's nice."
I think my notion of having a proper conversation doesn't simply have to revolve around gossip, complaints about colleagues, mundane jokes and other superficial issues.
It's about asking the other person, "How are you?" I believe that this question opens up possibilities and whenever I ask that sort of question, I'd like to think that I'm genuinely interested in the life of the other party and finding out how's life been good or tough on him or her.
I've met many people in my journey of life, and I'm glad to say that I've had the pleasure of meeting some who are simply a joy to talk to. One hallmark of such people, I must say, is that they make it a point to ask about your life - and we can have a heartfelt conversation that transcends the mundane and superficial matters of the world.
On the other hand I've also met people that I simply cannot connect with. It's fine, of course. It's completely unrealistic to expect myself to get along with everybody I meet. But I certainly won't bother myself nor worry unneccessarily if I have nothing to say. No need for pretensions. If there's nothing to say to that person, I'll just leave it as it is.
And so, over at the dinner table yesterday evening, I found it difficult to talk. Yes, there were humourous jokes, words exchanged to and fro, smiles all around between the others seated at the same table as me. But in such a large company of people, paradoxically, it became even harder for me to talk.
Having too many people, I have learnt, diminishes that chance of having a meaningful conversation with that one or two persons.
I am not convinced that many people would understand this.
My stand is this: friendships takes both parties to work at it in order for it to blossom and enrich the lives of both. Distance should never be an issue if both takes extra measures and a little bit of time and initiative to communicate with each other and to say 'Hi, how are you?'
That means a lot.
The absence of communication, on the other hand, can cause a friendship, no matter how strong, to crumble into ruins.
Friday, September 08, 2006
Finding hidden strength in others in the midst of adversity
When the opportunity came, I could not give it a miss.
At the end of it all, I trudged home, afflicted with raging itch from sandfly bites, chafed fingers, sunburnt skin, new friends, and newfound respect for another person.
You can get all these, and more, once you complete a 60km kayak expedition.
And this was exactly what I got myself into, once I accepted the invitation from MOE to participate in the inaugural kayaking expedition.
My kayaking partner was Joan, a lively PE teacher who, unfortunately, succumbed to sea sickness midway through our 7-hour first leg of our journey.
You see, we started from Changi Coast MOE Adventure Centre on Wednesday morning, and we had to traverse treacherous conditions before we could safely beach up at Ubin's Jelutong campsite. Along the way we kayaked past the seemingly endless Changi coast, where heavy reclamation work was taking place. It looked like a forsaken land to us.
All in all, it was a 7-hour battle against the elements: choppy waters that at times threatened to flip our kayaks over, and thunderous storm clouds that hovered over us, seemingly mocking us as we did our best to outrace the turbulent storm clouds. Futile, of course.
Straining our muscles, Joan and I pushed on, at times against the current. But she must have been feeling unwell. I could see her weakening paddling strokes, and she even stopped paddling altogether at times, and put her head down.
I asked her a number of times, "Are you all right?"
She lurched sideways and began to throw up.
There was no way anyone can hope to continue, when you are in the middle of the unforgiving sea, far from land, and motion sickness engulfs you from within.
I raised my paddle and swung it furiously, over my head, and managed to get the attention of the safety personnel on the powerboat.
Once she was hauled up onto the powerboat, another teacher, Jason, who had been resting on the boat, took over her place.
By now, we were far behind the rest of the expedition menbers, who had forged ahead. I made up my mind to close the gap, and with this new partner, I was confident of doing just that.
No. It didn't happen the way I wanted it to be.
You see, we lagged even further behind, in spite of our relentless paddling.
I looked around and realised that the currents became even stronger. We were being pushed back.
I told my partner to paddle harder, but to no avail. Instead, we seemed to stay still.
Then I noticed my partner's strokes becoming weaker.
When the powerboat came to us, my worst fears came true.
He vomited.
The safety officers pulled him over to their boat.
There's no way I could paddle a double kayak on my own. Thankfully, one of the safety officers took up the vacant front seat and we continued our journey.
As we reached Ubin, we were all exhausted, but there was still much work to be done: loading the equipment and stores to our campsite, carrying the kayaks up the shore, pitching our tents, cooking our dinner, and holding a meeting to plan for our return leg back the next day. We studied the tide tables and realised that we would be kayaking against the current again in our return journey. None of us said anything but mentally, I braced myself for another hard day tomorrow.
Before we turned in for the night, Joan and I agreed that we would stay together as partners and complete the return leg. I asked her if she's feeling ok, and she grinned, reassuring me that she was feeling much better.
The next day, all of us started brilliantly. Many of our backs were stiff from sleeping on the groundsheets and we were scratching everywhere from the vile sandfly bites. Nonetheless, we cleared the campsite in record time, thanks to everyone who packed the logistics, kept the tents, prepared breakfast and loaded the equipment onto the safety boats and kayaks.
By half past 9, we launched our kayaks, our bodies primed for another punishing day of kayaking.
This time, Joan and me coordinated smoothly, and we stayed ahead of the pack this time. Even at the sea waters of Changi, where the tumultuous waters were, we paddled continuously and steadily rolled over wave after wave as our kayak pierced through the restless waters.
Unfortunately, Joan motioned to me about her growing headaches, which severely affected her ability to continue. Soon, her condition deteriorated. She could no longer keep up with the paddling rhythm. A number of times, she leaned forward, paddle on her lap, as the debilitating combination of nausea and headache rendered her powerless to continue.
Through it all, I worried that she might not just be suffering from sea sickness, but she could be suffering from heat exhaustion, which is far more pernicious.
I splashed sea water on her, hoping to cool her down. A couple of times, the safety boat was by our side and the safety officers wrapped a ice-cold towel around her neck, to relieve the symptoms.
She flatly refused all offers to rest on the powerboat.
By then, we could make out the outline of Tanah Merah Ferry Terminal, which meant that we were less than an hour from our destination. She was not going to give up.
So what we did was to kayak for two to three minutes, then we would halt and take a rest. I would splash water on her and she would take a drink. I even lent her my Oakley shades, to keep the glare of the sun away from her eyes. Then we would resume our paddling. We maintained this routine for a few cycles.
In spite of our measures, Joan's condition did not improve. I knew that she wanted to fight to the end. But I was not willing to take any more risks. We had done what we could to ameliorate her condition. But she was feeling more ill every minute. The rocking of the kayak exacerbated her sickness further.
Finally, I called for the safety boat. Even though we would not be able to complete the return leg together, I was relieved that she could rest and be spared of the excruciating feelings of nausea and incessant headaches, once she got onto the safety powerboat.
Another teacher, Pete, took over Joan's place. Together, we powered our way back to the shores of Changi Coast Adventure Centre, relieved that our ordeal was over at last.
Driving a car became a labourious task, as I made my way home after the expedition debrief was completed.
My chafed fingers, stiff with fatigue, could hardly wrap themselves over the steering wheel.
But I am filled with a sense of admiration at Joan.
She showed me what fighting spirit was all about. I wouldn't know for sure, but I am quite certain that she must have bore the sickening nausea and headaches for a long time without telling anyone.
This is a quality I hope to possess in large measures.
In order to succeed in life, I acknowledge that it is essential to have the persistence and resilience to push on, in spite of setbacks and difficulties, in order to achieve what you have set out to do.
As for myself, I realised that, in the key moments during the expedition, what mattered most to me was not finishing first in the expedition, but it was more about finishing together with your teammate, your partner, and finishing the endurance race. Joan's sea sickness is ultimately of no relevance, for even if all of us to be given the freedom of choice of choosing our kayaking partners again, I would be proud to team up with Joan again.
Saturday, September 02, 2006
Fallen hopes?
"Guys, I've got news for you!"
Jessica got our attention.
"Max and I have applied for a flat already!"
We clapped and congratulated her. "Details, we want details," we urged her.
Dinner with this group of friends is never boring, especially during this particular occasion on Tuesday evening at Curry Favor, which serves Japanese curry.
The tempo was positively buzzing. Earlier, another girl in the group was sharing with us how her boyfriend knelt down in front of her and proposed, in front of friends and relatives.
She was gushing as she shared, and her fiance was eager to add in parts that she missed out.
And it's beautiful, the story of their proposal.
But for Jessica, a shadow lurked behind her joy.
The reason was, we knew the boyfriend hadn't proposed yet. Nonetheless, they had applied for the flat together first.
It did not sit down well with my spirit. Surely, this is not the proper order of things; it is not a logical procession of events.
Isn't it supposed to be like this: the man proposes first, and the lady accepts. Then they sit down and look for homes together.
So we asked Jessica, what's the next step? Is Max going to propose?
She shakes her head in a resigned manner.
She said, "I'd better not keep my hopes too high. I might get too disappointed."
How I wish I could help. My wife looked at me. Max and I are friends, but I know what he is like. He is headstrong, and I am not surprised that he has channelled his energies into his career, and he even juggles work and a part-time course in the evenings.
But I am loathe to judge him and criticise him. For I am not in his shoes and I certainly do not know how their relationship is really like. Max has his own qualities which I do admire too. For example, he is disciplined and once he knows what he wants to achieve, he will plan his way and take concrete steps to achieve it.
Some of the girls on the dinner table turned to me and said, "Ken, you gotta tell Max how to treat a lady! Tell him he's got to propose!"
Now this poses a dilemma to me. Do I even have to tell Max? Even if I need to, how should I put it across to him? Here's Jessica telling us how much she yearns for a proposal that is long overdue, and is Max oblivious to it?
I do not know what to do, but my inclination towards this matter is to let Jessica communicate to Max about this. There is very little justification for me to step in. After talking with my wife about this, on the drive home later in the evening, we did concur that it is certainly an issue which both of them will need to resolve.
The very next day, during my English class with 3e3, I shared with them about this issue. I turned to the guys in the class, and declared to them that they have to get this matter straight: you always propose first before you look for a home together with your partner.
It's interesting, that in my English lessons with 3e3 and 3e5, we do touch on matters of the heart. A constant theme in my English lessons is the importance of gentlemanly conduct in relationships. The teaching of chivalrous behaviour is notably lacking in schools these days. In my daily classroom teachings, I try to include bits and pieces of how to behave chivalrously. I believe that the guys need to hear it, and I also want the ladies in my classes to be aware of the high standards of courtesy they deserve to get from the boys.
Indeed, if a young man accords the proper respect and dignity to people around them (not just to ladies), he will stand out from the rest and become different from the other ordinary lads in a very refreshing way!
Jessica got our attention.
"Max and I have applied for a flat already!"
We clapped and congratulated her. "Details, we want details," we urged her.
Dinner with this group of friends is never boring, especially during this particular occasion on Tuesday evening at Curry Favor, which serves Japanese curry.
The tempo was positively buzzing. Earlier, another girl in the group was sharing with us how her boyfriend knelt down in front of her and proposed, in front of friends and relatives.
She was gushing as she shared, and her fiance was eager to add in parts that she missed out.
And it's beautiful, the story of their proposal.
But for Jessica, a shadow lurked behind her joy.
The reason was, we knew the boyfriend hadn't proposed yet. Nonetheless, they had applied for the flat together first.
It did not sit down well with my spirit. Surely, this is not the proper order of things; it is not a logical procession of events.
Isn't it supposed to be like this: the man proposes first, and the lady accepts. Then they sit down and look for homes together.
So we asked Jessica, what's the next step? Is Max going to propose?
She shakes her head in a resigned manner.
She said, "I'd better not keep my hopes too high. I might get too disappointed."
How I wish I could help. My wife looked at me. Max and I are friends, but I know what he is like. He is headstrong, and I am not surprised that he has channelled his energies into his career, and he even juggles work and a part-time course in the evenings.
But I am loathe to judge him and criticise him. For I am not in his shoes and I certainly do not know how their relationship is really like. Max has his own qualities which I do admire too. For example, he is disciplined and once he knows what he wants to achieve, he will plan his way and take concrete steps to achieve it.
Some of the girls on the dinner table turned to me and said, "Ken, you gotta tell Max how to treat a lady! Tell him he's got to propose!"
Now this poses a dilemma to me. Do I even have to tell Max? Even if I need to, how should I put it across to him? Here's Jessica telling us how much she yearns for a proposal that is long overdue, and is Max oblivious to it?
I do not know what to do, but my inclination towards this matter is to let Jessica communicate to Max about this. There is very little justification for me to step in. After talking with my wife about this, on the drive home later in the evening, we did concur that it is certainly an issue which both of them will need to resolve.
The very next day, during my English class with 3e3, I shared with them about this issue. I turned to the guys in the class, and declared to them that they have to get this matter straight: you always propose first before you look for a home together with your partner.
It's interesting, that in my English lessons with 3e3 and 3e5, we do touch on matters of the heart. A constant theme in my English lessons is the importance of gentlemanly conduct in relationships. The teaching of chivalrous behaviour is notably lacking in schools these days. In my daily classroom teachings, I try to include bits and pieces of how to behave chivalrously. I believe that the guys need to hear it, and I also want the ladies in my classes to be aware of the high standards of courtesy they deserve to get from the boys.
Indeed, if a young man accords the proper respect and dignity to people around them (not just to ladies), he will stand out from the rest and become different from the other ordinary lads in a very refreshing way!
Sunday, August 27, 2006
Triumphant at the finish line
It was a job well done.
At 5.30am, the 21km Army Half-Marathon Men's Open kicked off, from the Esplanade bridge.
I had arrived at the Esplanade at 5.15am, sharing a taxi with CJ, a friend of mine who lives in the next block. He was taking part in the 21km non-competitive event, which started slightly later at 5.45am. Before I headed for the start line, we wished each other all the best and I promised that I would wait for him at the finish line with a drink for him.
The route included Shenton Way, East Coast Parkway (including up the Benjamin Sheares Bridge with its sweeping picturesque view of the city), East Coast beach jogging path, Mountabatten Road, Nicoll Highway, Middle Road (past Bugis), Orchard Road, Clemenceau Avenue, Havelock Road, Outram Road, Neil Road, South Bridge Road, and ended at the Padang.
All in all, I took 2:25 hours, based on my wristwatch timing.
I felt good throughout the race, and the early morning air was refreshingly cool.
As dawn broke, I maintained my pace, and hit the 10km mark at just over an hour.
My personal targets for the race was simple. Firstly, I targeted a finish time of 2:30 or faster; secondly, non-stop running, NO walking; and finally, I've got to enjoy the race.
At the 20km mark, insidious cramps crept up my left thigh muscle, threatening to derail my targets.
But I could not even contemplate stopping to stretch and ease the cramps, not when the finish line was well within my grasp.
I prayed, and mentally ordered the cramp to get lost.
I continued my relentless pace, pushing on, oblivious to the nagging cramp.
Within a minute or two, the cramp dissipated. Once this was overcome, within a matter of minutes, I turned into the road and there it was, the finish line, right ahead of me.
My fatigued legs were briefly overwhelmed by a surge of exuberence and pride, as I skipped over the end point.
Elated, I slowly got my breath back, and gulped down a can of 100-Plus which I had purchased from the makeshift drink stall at the side of the road. All this while, I remembered the promise I had made, and got another can of 100-Plus.
I moved near the finish line, scanning at the numberless faces of runners zipping past me, hoping to spot CJ.
I felt a tap on my shoulder, and there he was. We gave each other a firm high-five and passed him the drink.
"Hey you remembered," he told me, half in jest, with a tinge of gratitude.
After a warm-down, we headed to the taxi stand, hopped into a cab, and headed for home.
As I bid farewell to him and went our separate ways, I wondered where could I have lunch with my lovely wife, who was waiting at home for me.
To my delight, my wife had prepared a beautiful meal of noodle soup for me, complete with greens and plenty of bee hoon.
Man, I feel so blessed.
At 5.30am, the 21km Army Half-Marathon Men's Open kicked off, from the Esplanade bridge.
I had arrived at the Esplanade at 5.15am, sharing a taxi with CJ, a friend of mine who lives in the next block. He was taking part in the 21km non-competitive event, which started slightly later at 5.45am. Before I headed for the start line, we wished each other all the best and I promised that I would wait for him at the finish line with a drink for him.
The route included Shenton Way, East Coast Parkway (including up the Benjamin Sheares Bridge with its sweeping picturesque view of the city), East Coast beach jogging path, Mountabatten Road, Nicoll Highway, Middle Road (past Bugis), Orchard Road, Clemenceau Avenue, Havelock Road, Outram Road, Neil Road, South Bridge Road, and ended at the Padang.
All in all, I took 2:25 hours, based on my wristwatch timing.
I felt good throughout the race, and the early morning air was refreshingly cool.
As dawn broke, I maintained my pace, and hit the 10km mark at just over an hour.
My personal targets for the race was simple. Firstly, I targeted a finish time of 2:30 or faster; secondly, non-stop running, NO walking; and finally, I've got to enjoy the race.
At the 20km mark, insidious cramps crept up my left thigh muscle, threatening to derail my targets.
But I could not even contemplate stopping to stretch and ease the cramps, not when the finish line was well within my grasp.
I prayed, and mentally ordered the cramp to get lost.
I continued my relentless pace, pushing on, oblivious to the nagging cramp.
Within a minute or two, the cramp dissipated. Once this was overcome, within a matter of minutes, I turned into the road and there it was, the finish line, right ahead of me.
My fatigued legs were briefly overwhelmed by a surge of exuberence and pride, as I skipped over the end point.
Elated, I slowly got my breath back, and gulped down a can of 100-Plus which I had purchased from the makeshift drink stall at the side of the road. All this while, I remembered the promise I had made, and got another can of 100-Plus.
I moved near the finish line, scanning at the numberless faces of runners zipping past me, hoping to spot CJ.
I felt a tap on my shoulder, and there he was. We gave each other a firm high-five and passed him the drink.
"Hey you remembered," he told me, half in jest, with a tinge of gratitude.
After a warm-down, we headed to the taxi stand, hopped into a cab, and headed for home.
As I bid farewell to him and went our separate ways, I wondered where could I have lunch with my lovely wife, who was waiting at home for me.
To my delight, my wife had prepared a beautiful meal of noodle soup for me, complete with greens and plenty of bee hoon.
Man, I feel so blessed.
Saturday, August 26, 2006
Enthusiasm that inspires
Kudos to the girls and boys that turned up for the West Zone Sports Carnival training cum selection trials.
My ever-reliable Zhi Cheng, Shuan and Derek ably trained 4 Sec 1 boys and led them through a series of basketball drills and games. I knew these juniors would be in good hands.
Thanks to the dependable Prakash and Azzrul, who led the Sec 2 Soccer boys through their paces and I could see that you both did a fantastic job.
Concurrently, I was at the parade square, and I was pleased to see a good number of enthusiastic Sec 1 and 2 ladies, who could not wait to get onto the court and have a go at Captain's Ball.
My objective was simple: I had to select 2 teams, each team consisting of 10 Sec 1 and Sec 2 players. I needed to spot players who knew how to run into space to receive the pass, and players who could catch and pass the ball well.
It wasn't very easy. Many of the girls, especially the Sec 2s, tried their best, and little separated one from the other in terms of skill.
I could not fault them for lack of effort. In fact, I was proud of them, every single one of them who turned up.
They came on time, were splendid examples of sportswomen (they helped each other up, shook hands, and played the game well), and were very cooperative.
More significantly, they played on, in spite of the merciless rays of the sun, which bore down upon us without any respite.
Through a series of games with each other, I identified those who not only possessed the qualities I was looking for, but also exhibited greater speed, quicker movement, accurate passing, and keen awareness of space and opponents.
Throughout the selection trial, I was capably assisted by Sandra and Cailing, who helped me to take down the particulars of the players and monitored the time. I was very thankful for their help, and meant that I could fully concentrate on my task.
Once the 2 teams had been finalised, I felt it was necessary, first and foremost, to express my thanks for these girls' tremendous energy and effervesence.
I thoroughly enjoyed it. They were really excellent students.
Keep up that sporty spirit, whereever you go!
Even as the girls were dismissed, I was still not done yet. My basketball boys were having training at the basketball court. Now, it wasn't just a routine training. In fact, it was a special 'farewell' training session for the coach.
Over a year and a half ago, I had engaged Hui Soon to do full-time coaching for our Fajar basketball team.
He brought with him a strong sense of discipline, effective communication, and an uncompromising emphasis on mental resilience and physical fitness - qualities which aligned with my beliefs and vision for the Basketball team.
It is of utmost importance that I find a coach who meets the needs of the School and is able to work under my guidance and management of the Basketball CCA. I am not necessarily looking for a tried-and-tested coach who might have won accolades before; nor a coach with extensive coaching credentials.
Nay.
My eye is on coaches who are positive role models and living examples of good sportsmen, who believe in character building and living a balanced lifestyle between studies and sports.
It is that simple.
If a coach doesn't meet those criteria, I won't employ him.
But over time, Hui Soon has proven that he is a no-nonsense coach, who commands the attention of the boys. Above all, he has shown committment to the School and has gone beyond the call of duty to assist the School when we approached him.
So, a big 'Thank you' to you, Hui Soon.
I hope you found the farewell training session special and memorable. I am sure that you have left an indelible and positive memory in the memories of the boys whom you've coached.
By the time I dismissed the boys, it was already past 5. Only then, when the frenetic pace of the afternoon's activities had at last died down, did I feel the groans of my physical body. I felt the waves of fatigue rushing through me.
I lumbered back to the Staff Room. I sank onto my chair and rested a while.
My colleague, Ms Adelene Lee, who sits next to me, looked at me and said,
"Ken, you're burnt!"
Right.
My ever-reliable Zhi Cheng, Shuan and Derek ably trained 4 Sec 1 boys and led them through a series of basketball drills and games. I knew these juniors would be in good hands.
Thanks to the dependable Prakash and Azzrul, who led the Sec 2 Soccer boys through their paces and I could see that you both did a fantastic job.
Concurrently, I was at the parade square, and I was pleased to see a good number of enthusiastic Sec 1 and 2 ladies, who could not wait to get onto the court and have a go at Captain's Ball.
My objective was simple: I had to select 2 teams, each team consisting of 10 Sec 1 and Sec 2 players. I needed to spot players who knew how to run into space to receive the pass, and players who could catch and pass the ball well.
It wasn't very easy. Many of the girls, especially the Sec 2s, tried their best, and little separated one from the other in terms of skill.
I could not fault them for lack of effort. In fact, I was proud of them, every single one of them who turned up.
They came on time, were splendid examples of sportswomen (they helped each other up, shook hands, and played the game well), and were very cooperative.
More significantly, they played on, in spite of the merciless rays of the sun, which bore down upon us without any respite.
Through a series of games with each other, I identified those who not only possessed the qualities I was looking for, but also exhibited greater speed, quicker movement, accurate passing, and keen awareness of space and opponents.
Throughout the selection trial, I was capably assisted by Sandra and Cailing, who helped me to take down the particulars of the players and monitored the time. I was very thankful for their help, and meant that I could fully concentrate on my task.
Once the 2 teams had been finalised, I felt it was necessary, first and foremost, to express my thanks for these girls' tremendous energy and effervesence.
I thoroughly enjoyed it. They were really excellent students.
Keep up that sporty spirit, whereever you go!
Even as the girls were dismissed, I was still not done yet. My basketball boys were having training at the basketball court. Now, it wasn't just a routine training. In fact, it was a special 'farewell' training session for the coach.
Over a year and a half ago, I had engaged Hui Soon to do full-time coaching for our Fajar basketball team.
He brought with him a strong sense of discipline, effective communication, and an uncompromising emphasis on mental resilience and physical fitness - qualities which aligned with my beliefs and vision for the Basketball team.
It is of utmost importance that I find a coach who meets the needs of the School and is able to work under my guidance and management of the Basketball CCA. I am not necessarily looking for a tried-and-tested coach who might have won accolades before; nor a coach with extensive coaching credentials.
Nay.
My eye is on coaches who are positive role models and living examples of good sportsmen, who believe in character building and living a balanced lifestyle between studies and sports.
It is that simple.
If a coach doesn't meet those criteria, I won't employ him.
But over time, Hui Soon has proven that he is a no-nonsense coach, who commands the attention of the boys. Above all, he has shown committment to the School and has gone beyond the call of duty to assist the School when we approached him.
So, a big 'Thank you' to you, Hui Soon.
I hope you found the farewell training session special and memorable. I am sure that you have left an indelible and positive memory in the memories of the boys whom you've coached.
By the time I dismissed the boys, it was already past 5. Only then, when the frenetic pace of the afternoon's activities had at last died down, did I feel the groans of my physical body. I felt the waves of fatigue rushing through me.
I lumbered back to the Staff Room. I sank onto my chair and rested a while.
My colleague, Ms Adelene Lee, who sits next to me, looked at me and said,
"Ken, you're burnt!"
Right.
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
Sweet bitter sweet Sunday
I was spent.
The 1.6km stretch of beach in Sentosa took the wind out of me. Amidst the straggling runners, I did my utmost to overtake them, avoiding the pits and crevasses of the trampled sand.
It took all of my effort just to keep on jogging on the sand.
Before the REAL Run began, I reminded myself to take it slow and treat it as a warm-up run. Who was I kidding. Running 10km, even at a slow pace, was going to sap my strength.
And I had to save my strength for the Pesta Sukan Netball Carnival, that was due to commence immediately after the run.
In spite of the heat and, I must say, inadequate physical preparation, I am quite simply overjoyed to finish the race, in slightly over an hour.
It means I can get home, take a quick shower, get rid of the sand in my shoes, and hurry down to Kallang Netball Centre, where my wife and my team mates were.
Which was precisely what I did.
In spite of the refreshing bath, I still felt weary.
As I walked past the courts, and glanced at the teams shooting and passing the balls, I felt like I might have made a mistake. Should I have run at all? How am I going to answer to my teammates if I perform poorly?
Our first game started in ten minutes. As the GK, the man I marked was truly a giant. Almost my height, and twice my width.
At my physical 100%, I would have given him a run for his money.
But I was virtually exhausted, and not enough time had lapsed for my strength and stamina to return.
My team played nervously, unable to penetrate and provide much of an attacking threat. Our opponents were competent and passed the ball at will.
The first game was lost.
Sober now, our team got together and we exchanged ideas to improve our play. There was a good half hour before game two and it was useful for me to regain my strength.
Game two was certainly better. We were more cohesive and more shots were scored. I felt stronger, but still far from my best.
And we won the game.
The third game saw me pitting my skills against the same giant I had mentioned in my earlier blog entry.
This time, we exchanged warm smiles and a firm handshake.
As the match progressed, it became abundantly clear that our opponents were different compared to the last time we played.
Some players were unfamiliar. The new faces were very good. The team we played today was far superior.
Physically, I had recovered most of my stamina, and even got the spring in my jump back. Just in time, I thought.
But it was not enough. Our opponents' superior movement and clinical finishing meant that we did not stand a chance.
Our first foray into this mixed netball competition has been a bittersweet experience. Well, certainly the friendship between us has grown stronger. It is always special when the team is made up of husband-and-wife pairs and good friends.
On the other hand, our actual match performances today were shadows of our effortless wins during our earlier training sessions. We realised that we needed more match practice and we had to learn to keep the ball better.
After securing victory in our fourth and last match, we headed to the MacDonald's opposite the Netball Centre and had a bite there.
In the midst of the easy banter, jokes and incessant complaints (about the queer umpires and scorching heat), someone uttered, "Let's play again next year!"
I'm game!
The 1.6km stretch of beach in Sentosa took the wind out of me. Amidst the straggling runners, I did my utmost to overtake them, avoiding the pits and crevasses of the trampled sand.
It took all of my effort just to keep on jogging on the sand.
Before the REAL Run began, I reminded myself to take it slow and treat it as a warm-up run. Who was I kidding. Running 10km, even at a slow pace, was going to sap my strength.
And I had to save my strength for the Pesta Sukan Netball Carnival, that was due to commence immediately after the run.
In spite of the heat and, I must say, inadequate physical preparation, I am quite simply overjoyed to finish the race, in slightly over an hour.
It means I can get home, take a quick shower, get rid of the sand in my shoes, and hurry down to Kallang Netball Centre, where my wife and my team mates were.
Which was precisely what I did.
In spite of the refreshing bath, I still felt weary.
As I walked past the courts, and glanced at the teams shooting and passing the balls, I felt like I might have made a mistake. Should I have run at all? How am I going to answer to my teammates if I perform poorly?
Our first game started in ten minutes. As the GK, the man I marked was truly a giant. Almost my height, and twice my width.
At my physical 100%, I would have given him a run for his money.
But I was virtually exhausted, and not enough time had lapsed for my strength and stamina to return.
My team played nervously, unable to penetrate and provide much of an attacking threat. Our opponents were competent and passed the ball at will.
The first game was lost.
Sober now, our team got together and we exchanged ideas to improve our play. There was a good half hour before game two and it was useful for me to regain my strength.
Game two was certainly better. We were more cohesive and more shots were scored. I felt stronger, but still far from my best.
And we won the game.
The third game saw me pitting my skills against the same giant I had mentioned in my earlier blog entry.
This time, we exchanged warm smiles and a firm handshake.
As the match progressed, it became abundantly clear that our opponents were different compared to the last time we played.
Some players were unfamiliar. The new faces were very good. The team we played today was far superior.
Physically, I had recovered most of my stamina, and even got the spring in my jump back. Just in time, I thought.
But it was not enough. Our opponents' superior movement and clinical finishing meant that we did not stand a chance.
Our first foray into this mixed netball competition has been a bittersweet experience. Well, certainly the friendship between us has grown stronger. It is always special when the team is made up of husband-and-wife pairs and good friends.
On the other hand, our actual match performances today were shadows of our effortless wins during our earlier training sessions. We realised that we needed more match practice and we had to learn to keep the ball better.
After securing victory in our fourth and last match, we headed to the MacDonald's opposite the Netball Centre and had a bite there.
In the midst of the easy banter, jokes and incessant complaints (about the queer umpires and scorching heat), someone uttered, "Let's play again next year!"
I'm game!
Saturday, August 19, 2006
Super Sunday
Our eyes met.
I trooped up onto the court and took up position as Goal Keeper. The player I had to mark, playing as Goal Shooter, was a towering man, who stood eye-to-eye with me. I smiled and shook hands with him.
We were both similar in physical stature: equally tall, lean, and certainly quick off the foot.
I knew I would be playing a tough game.
I had been warned, five minutes earlier, that this player I'm up against is a current national netball player.
I shrugged it off. It doesn't matter. He is tall, yes. He is the tallest player I have played against in netball all year. But size doesn't count for anything. It's the competitive spirit that matters.
It's our second training session at Netball Singapore. It's a sticky and warm evening. I'm already drenched through and through after some warm-up passing and movement drills and we had already played against some teams as part of our training earlier. Our team captain then approached this team, who was resting on the sidelines, if they would be keen on playing with us.
My team consists of a core group of ladies who have played netball extensively and are good friends with each other. Then they decided to participate in the Pesta Sukan Netball Mixed Carnival where we had to send in a team of 12 (7 females and 5 males).
So naturally these ladies (which included my lovely wife) roped in their husbands/ boyfriends.
For some strange reason, the lads in our team all share a common inclination for sports. Of the 5 men in the team, 3 are PE teachers (including myself), 1 is an ex-long distance runner, and the other is an army officer.
The umpire blew the whistle, signalling the start of the friendly game.
Against my lanky opponent, my strategy is simple: do not let him get the ball.
I stuck close to him, keeping an eye on his movements and the ball at the same time.
Inevitably, some passes reached his hands. Pivoting on his foot, he turned to face the net, and shot the ball into the basket effortlessly.
There were a couple of times where he surged forward to catch hold of a pass. Sensing his movement, I sprinted with him, seeking to at least intercept the pass. But he got the ball nonetheless, and I clattered into him, such was the force of my momentum.
But there were times I succeeded in forcing the opposing players to pass impossibly lofty balls to him, where the ball whizzed past his grasping hands and out of play, as I restricted him time and space to get to those passes.
The umpire blew again, signalling the end of the ten-minute friendly. Our team went down 7-8, a close score by any standards.
I shook hands with the fellow giant, and wished him all the best.
Tomorrow (Sunday) will be a huge day on my calendar. I have the New Balance REAL Run in the morning. The 10 km race kicks off at 7.45am at Sentosa Gateway carpark and roads, off-road tracks and the sandy beaches make up the running route.
Once this race is over, I will have to make my way immediately to Kallang Netball Centre, and join my teammates and do battle with other mixed teams in the Pesta Sukan Netball Mixed Carnival under the scorching sun.
I expect to be pushed to the very limits physically and mentally.
Running a 10 km race, and playing consecutive netball matches after that, is no mean feat.
But physically, I am feeling fine. This 10 km REAL Run is but a precursor to a bigger race: next Sunday's Army Half-Marathon.
The distance of this race?
21km.
The Half-Marathon race starts at 5.30am at Esplanade Bridge.
But even this race is not the biggest in my running calender this year. There's the Standard Chartered Singapore International Marathon, happening on the first Sunday of December 2006.
And I've signed up for this one. It will be my 4th marathon, having taken part in this race in the past 3 years. It's 42 km of sheer physical punishment. Yep. That's right. I'm no longer talking about the domain of physical stamina. It goes beyond the physical. It's simply the triumph of the indefatigable mind over the finite body, if you finish the race.
But that's months ahead.
Come tomorrow, I shall relish the experience of completing the REAL Run and performing up to expectations in the Netball carnival.
And yes, I certainly expect to play against the tall and lean opponent again.
I shall be ready for his challenge.
I trooped up onto the court and took up position as Goal Keeper. The player I had to mark, playing as Goal Shooter, was a towering man, who stood eye-to-eye with me. I smiled and shook hands with him.
We were both similar in physical stature: equally tall, lean, and certainly quick off the foot.
I knew I would be playing a tough game.
I had been warned, five minutes earlier, that this player I'm up against is a current national netball player.
I shrugged it off. It doesn't matter. He is tall, yes. He is the tallest player I have played against in netball all year. But size doesn't count for anything. It's the competitive spirit that matters.
It's our second training session at Netball Singapore. It's a sticky and warm evening. I'm already drenched through and through after some warm-up passing and movement drills and we had already played against some teams as part of our training earlier. Our team captain then approached this team, who was resting on the sidelines, if they would be keen on playing with us.
My team consists of a core group of ladies who have played netball extensively and are good friends with each other. Then they decided to participate in the Pesta Sukan Netball Mixed Carnival where we had to send in a team of 12 (7 females and 5 males).
So naturally these ladies (which included my lovely wife) roped in their husbands/ boyfriends.
For some strange reason, the lads in our team all share a common inclination for sports. Of the 5 men in the team, 3 are PE teachers (including myself), 1 is an ex-long distance runner, and the other is an army officer.
The umpire blew the whistle, signalling the start of the friendly game.
Against my lanky opponent, my strategy is simple: do not let him get the ball.
I stuck close to him, keeping an eye on his movements and the ball at the same time.
Inevitably, some passes reached his hands. Pivoting on his foot, he turned to face the net, and shot the ball into the basket effortlessly.
There were a couple of times where he surged forward to catch hold of a pass. Sensing his movement, I sprinted with him, seeking to at least intercept the pass. But he got the ball nonetheless, and I clattered into him, such was the force of my momentum.
But there were times I succeeded in forcing the opposing players to pass impossibly lofty balls to him, where the ball whizzed past his grasping hands and out of play, as I restricted him time and space to get to those passes.
The umpire blew again, signalling the end of the ten-minute friendly. Our team went down 7-8, a close score by any standards.
I shook hands with the fellow giant, and wished him all the best.
Tomorrow (Sunday) will be a huge day on my calendar. I have the New Balance REAL Run in the morning. The 10 km race kicks off at 7.45am at Sentosa Gateway carpark and roads, off-road tracks and the sandy beaches make up the running route.
Once this race is over, I will have to make my way immediately to Kallang Netball Centre, and join my teammates and do battle with other mixed teams in the Pesta Sukan Netball Mixed Carnival under the scorching sun.
I expect to be pushed to the very limits physically and mentally.
Running a 10 km race, and playing consecutive netball matches after that, is no mean feat.
But physically, I am feeling fine. This 10 km REAL Run is but a precursor to a bigger race: next Sunday's Army Half-Marathon.
The distance of this race?
21km.
The Half-Marathon race starts at 5.30am at Esplanade Bridge.
But even this race is not the biggest in my running calender this year. There's the Standard Chartered Singapore International Marathon, happening on the first Sunday of December 2006.
And I've signed up for this one. It will be my 4th marathon, having taken part in this race in the past 3 years. It's 42 km of sheer physical punishment. Yep. That's right. I'm no longer talking about the domain of physical stamina. It goes beyond the physical. It's simply the triumph of the indefatigable mind over the finite body, if you finish the race.
But that's months ahead.
Come tomorrow, I shall relish the experience of completing the REAL Run and performing up to expectations in the Netball carnival.
And yes, I certainly expect to play against the tall and lean opponent again.
I shall be ready for his challenge.
Thursday, August 10, 2006
Weighing heavily on my heart
One thing I can never ever condone is verbal and emotional abuse in any relationship.
Abuse of any nature is abominable and deleterious towards a healthy and wholesome bonding between two people.
Recently, someone shared with me about her relationship woes.
What is normal is that the occasional quarrel does happen in many relationships. That is typical, since differences in opinions, impatience or stress can trigger off a tiff. That's fine as long as both sides can cool down and learn something from it and come to a compromise.
But when there are abhorrent words involved and when the guy seeks to enslave the other through blatant domination of the other person's life, I think it is clear that you can no longer call it a meaningful relationship.
I say this simply because being in a relationship should allow both parties breathing space to live their own lives, to flourish, to pursue their interests. This is what I believe in.
Being in a relationship with a lady is all about treating her like a princess, honouring her, romancing her. You are comfortable when you are together, yet trusting when she is away, at school, at work, or out with friends.
For if you treat her as the most beautiful woman in your life, why would she want to look for any other guy?
For my friend, I dearly hope you that you realise this: that you are deserving of great love. Thank you for sharing with me. May your heart be warmed that you do have many steadfast friends who stand beside you.
Abuse of any nature is abominable and deleterious towards a healthy and wholesome bonding between two people.
Recently, someone shared with me about her relationship woes.
What is normal is that the occasional quarrel does happen in many relationships. That is typical, since differences in opinions, impatience or stress can trigger off a tiff. That's fine as long as both sides can cool down and learn something from it and come to a compromise.
But when there are abhorrent words involved and when the guy seeks to enslave the other through blatant domination of the other person's life, I think it is clear that you can no longer call it a meaningful relationship.
I say this simply because being in a relationship should allow both parties breathing space to live their own lives, to flourish, to pursue their interests. This is what I believe in.
Being in a relationship with a lady is all about treating her like a princess, honouring her, romancing her. You are comfortable when you are together, yet trusting when she is away, at school, at work, or out with friends.
For if you treat her as the most beautiful woman in your life, why would she want to look for any other guy?
For my friend, I dearly hope you that you realise this: that you are deserving of great love. Thank you for sharing with me. May your heart be warmed that you do have many steadfast friends who stand beside you.
Saturday, August 05, 2006
It's not about the hair, really.
It wasn't that difficult.
Something deep inside told me that it was only the right thing to do.
And if I can make a difference to somebody, I would do it.
And so, on Sunday, I allowed my head to be shaved at the Children's Cancer Foundation's charity event that was held at Suntec City's basement, right next to the Fountain of Wealth.
I have to be frank, I could not wait to head to the nearest mirror to see my shaven head once the shave was done!
And that was what I did. I could hardly stifle an outburst of laughter when I caught myself at the mirror. Memories of my National Service days came surging back into my mind.
Nevertheless, my heart goes out to the children afflicted with the terrible disease. I know that my gesture can and will mean a lot - because to change the world and make it better, it starts with myself.
And I will do it again, to support the needy.
On a more recent note, I think the Peer Leaders have put in a solid and reliable performance at yesterday's West Zone Schools Sports Meeting.
It was reassuring when I saw Zi Hui, Hawa and Faridah steadfastly greeting every guest that walked past them; while I felt admiration for the hard work put in by Edward, Aslam, Teck Sheng and Faizal, who personally welcomed every drive-in and walk-in guest who entered our school, in spite of the withering heat.
I knew the Meeting would run well with Jiahao ever-ready to work with urgent instructions; I felt confident when Azzrul looked at me, as I walked past, with a thumbs-up and a grin.
I knew the guests would feel right at home with Amanda and her lovely smile. I knew every guest would not lack their all-important Meeting notes with Liyana, Carlyn, Farhan and Jasmine feverishly and effectively arranging the notes for over 50 schools.
I knew the guests would have the memory of a pleasant conversation with a Peer Leader, when Hazimah shared with me about her conversation with one of them. I was filled with inspiration at the sight of Jasman and Huiying managing the buffet table and the drink counter, servicing the guests like seasoned operators.
My heartfelt appreciation goes out to Vivien and Terence, whose sound management of the PA system meant that the Meeting could be conducted without any hitches.
Finally, for lack of words, I can only say 'Thank you' to Mrs Lim Chee Chin and Mr Koh who expertly handled the technical aspect of the Meeting.
Every act, no matter how little, doesn't go unnoticed. Every little act of warmth or a word of kindness touches hearts and the goodness multiplies.
Doing things to serve ourselves is both short-sighted and ultimately meaningless.
Serving others faithfully and sincerely, on the other hand, benefits both the giver and the recipient, and allows the giver to thrive and be enriched even more.
Through this Meeting, I have seen how our School is blessed with a group of dedicated teachers and enthusiastic Peer Leaders who serve our alma mater with a willing heart, and I am comforted.
Something deep inside told me that it was only the right thing to do.
And if I can make a difference to somebody, I would do it.
And so, on Sunday, I allowed my head to be shaved at the Children's Cancer Foundation's charity event that was held at Suntec City's basement, right next to the Fountain of Wealth.
I have to be frank, I could not wait to head to the nearest mirror to see my shaven head once the shave was done!
And that was what I did. I could hardly stifle an outburst of laughter when I caught myself at the mirror. Memories of my National Service days came surging back into my mind.
Nevertheless, my heart goes out to the children afflicted with the terrible disease. I know that my gesture can and will mean a lot - because to change the world and make it better, it starts with myself.
And I will do it again, to support the needy.
On a more recent note, I think the Peer Leaders have put in a solid and reliable performance at yesterday's West Zone Schools Sports Meeting.
It was reassuring when I saw Zi Hui, Hawa and Faridah steadfastly greeting every guest that walked past them; while I felt admiration for the hard work put in by Edward, Aslam, Teck Sheng and Faizal, who personally welcomed every drive-in and walk-in guest who entered our school, in spite of the withering heat.
I knew the Meeting would run well with Jiahao ever-ready to work with urgent instructions; I felt confident when Azzrul looked at me, as I walked past, with a thumbs-up and a grin.
I knew the guests would feel right at home with Amanda and her lovely smile. I knew every guest would not lack their all-important Meeting notes with Liyana, Carlyn, Farhan and Jasmine feverishly and effectively arranging the notes for over 50 schools.
I knew the guests would have the memory of a pleasant conversation with a Peer Leader, when Hazimah shared with me about her conversation with one of them. I was filled with inspiration at the sight of Jasman and Huiying managing the buffet table and the drink counter, servicing the guests like seasoned operators.
My heartfelt appreciation goes out to Vivien and Terence, whose sound management of the PA system meant that the Meeting could be conducted without any hitches.
Finally, for lack of words, I can only say 'Thank you' to Mrs Lim Chee Chin and Mr Koh who expertly handled the technical aspect of the Meeting.
Every act, no matter how little, doesn't go unnoticed. Every little act of warmth or a word of kindness touches hearts and the goodness multiplies.
Doing things to serve ourselves is both short-sighted and ultimately meaningless.
Serving others faithfully and sincerely, on the other hand, benefits both the giver and the recipient, and allows the giver to thrive and be enriched even more.
Through this Meeting, I have seen how our School is blessed with a group of dedicated teachers and enthusiastic Peer Leaders who serve our alma mater with a willing heart, and I am comforted.
Saturday, July 29, 2006
Dinner under the glow of a gorgeous sunset
Last Friday, it was my wife's birthday.
I had spent the days leading up to the big day mulling over the perfect restaurant for us. I did have some ideas. One good place to get ideas would always be the Sunday Times. Sometimes friends could give you some good recommendations too.
But it didn't take me long to make up my mind. I decided to bring my wife to this splendid restaurant called Il Lido, at Sentosa Golf Club. Just to make sure I get my preferred seat, I made the call about a week in advance.
This restaurant is renowned for its enchanting ambience and an idyllic view of the western sea. I was sure my wife would fall in love with this restaurant.
And of course, my wife looked resplendent on the evening. We were all set to go. I couldn't help but to add in a bit of suspense though - she had no idea where I was going to bring her!
Once we stepped into the restaurant, we received a warm welcome from the waiters and waitresses. We got a good table, exactly what I had specified in my reservation.
The champagne, the delectable main course and the sinfully rich dessert do not make simply make it a good dinner. The view was almost breathtaking. The golden sky contrasted beautifully with the serene blue sea, and though the sun was blocked by the trees, you can't help but enjoy the moment and be immersed in the peace that envelopes you.
Which is why, given a choice between a quiet spot on the beach or a shopping centre, my choice is quite obvious.
To top it all, the staff came to our table, with a birthday cake in their hands, and they sang the birthday song to my wife. Now, even I didn't see that one coming. It took us a couple of moments to get over the surprise before I joined in the chorus and sang along gleefully.
Through it all, we had a lovely chat through the evening. It's funny, we never run out of things to say. Of course, we have our quiet moments, but it's a comfortable type of silence which we acknowledge is a part of our relationship. But we know it's based on a solid foundation on trust and mutual appreciation of each other.
As we left the restaurant and drove back to mainland Singapore, I was quite certain that we would come back to this restaurant in the future.
To my wife, Siang, I am blessed to have you in my life. Happy birthday!
I had spent the days leading up to the big day mulling over the perfect restaurant for us. I did have some ideas. One good place to get ideas would always be the Sunday Times. Sometimes friends could give you some good recommendations too.
But it didn't take me long to make up my mind. I decided to bring my wife to this splendid restaurant called Il Lido, at Sentosa Golf Club. Just to make sure I get my preferred seat, I made the call about a week in advance.
This restaurant is renowned for its enchanting ambience and an idyllic view of the western sea. I was sure my wife would fall in love with this restaurant.
And of course, my wife looked resplendent on the evening. We were all set to go. I couldn't help but to add in a bit of suspense though - she had no idea where I was going to bring her!
Once we stepped into the restaurant, we received a warm welcome from the waiters and waitresses. We got a good table, exactly what I had specified in my reservation.
The champagne, the delectable main course and the sinfully rich dessert do not make simply make it a good dinner. The view was almost breathtaking. The golden sky contrasted beautifully with the serene blue sea, and though the sun was blocked by the trees, you can't help but enjoy the moment and be immersed in the peace that envelopes you.
Which is why, given a choice between a quiet spot on the beach or a shopping centre, my choice is quite obvious.
To top it all, the staff came to our table, with a birthday cake in their hands, and they sang the birthday song to my wife. Now, even I didn't see that one coming. It took us a couple of moments to get over the surprise before I joined in the chorus and sang along gleefully.
Through it all, we had a lovely chat through the evening. It's funny, we never run out of things to say. Of course, we have our quiet moments, but it's a comfortable type of silence which we acknowledge is a part of our relationship. But we know it's based on a solid foundation on trust and mutual appreciation of each other.
As we left the restaurant and drove back to mainland Singapore, I was quite certain that we would come back to this restaurant in the future.
To my wife, Siang, I am blessed to have you in my life. Happy birthday!
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
Childhood lit once again
"Good evening, ma'am," Superman said, after rescuing another damsel in distress.
He has such impeccable manners. He has this old American charm about him. His deep blue eyes, soft personality, gentle manners can almost transport us to the old America days where traditional values and etiquette still held sway all over.
And, he has one heck of a tough body. Imagine, all those bullets ricocheting off his chest, when earlier those rounds had ripped apart those hapless police cars. Anyway, the police and their cars frequently get trounced in Hollwood movies. I don't think the real police guys are keen on having their reputation smashed in those movies.
Anyway, I had another lovely evening with my lovely wife. I had just finished coaching the boys in a match at Clementi Sports Hall. Rushed down to Marina Square, played a bit of hide and seek with my wife, before we skipped merrily to the box office to get a couple-seat for the movie. I was really keen on the movie, especially as I still fondly remember watching the original Superman movies (starring the handsome Christopher Reeve). Superman really was a big thing in my childhood. The values he stood for, his humane nature (even though he was really an alien), and his unwavering courage were really admirable.
My wife flashed out this bun from Bread Talk and asked me if I wanted to eat chilli crab. I said, "Huh?" and she wasn't joking. She pulled apart the bun wrapper and revealed a crab - actually it's a bun in the shape of a crab. Really funny. It gets better once you sink your teeth into it. You taste chilli crab. We had a good laugh. At least we didn't have to peel off any shells.
Anyway, talking about Superman and comic book heroes, I have to say that this has been a good year for me. I've managed to catch Superman Returns, The Fantastic Four (on DVD), and X-Men: The Final Stand and I must say I'm really pleased. Makes me want to take out those action figues I still keep in my musty old cupboard and play with them all over again.
Reliving childhood days can actually achieve something remarkable in you - it can energise you and renew your youth. Yes, of course we do get on in terms of age every year, but we certainly can do ourselves a huge favour if we can still keep that child in us in a large corner in our hearts. I think we could all do with a little bit more child-like innocence and easy laughter in our lives. Oh get away from me Cynicism, Pessimism and Indifference!
He has such impeccable manners. He has this old American charm about him. His deep blue eyes, soft personality, gentle manners can almost transport us to the old America days where traditional values and etiquette still held sway all over.
And, he has one heck of a tough body. Imagine, all those bullets ricocheting off his chest, when earlier those rounds had ripped apart those hapless police cars. Anyway, the police and their cars frequently get trounced in Hollwood movies. I don't think the real police guys are keen on having their reputation smashed in those movies.
Anyway, I had another lovely evening with my lovely wife. I had just finished coaching the boys in a match at Clementi Sports Hall. Rushed down to Marina Square, played a bit of hide and seek with my wife, before we skipped merrily to the box office to get a couple-seat for the movie. I was really keen on the movie, especially as I still fondly remember watching the original Superman movies (starring the handsome Christopher Reeve). Superman really was a big thing in my childhood. The values he stood for, his humane nature (even though he was really an alien), and his unwavering courage were really admirable.
My wife flashed out this bun from Bread Talk and asked me if I wanted to eat chilli crab. I said, "Huh?" and she wasn't joking. She pulled apart the bun wrapper and revealed a crab - actually it's a bun in the shape of a crab. Really funny. It gets better once you sink your teeth into it. You taste chilli crab. We had a good laugh. At least we didn't have to peel off any shells.
Anyway, talking about Superman and comic book heroes, I have to say that this has been a good year for me. I've managed to catch Superman Returns, The Fantastic Four (on DVD), and X-Men: The Final Stand and I must say I'm really pleased. Makes me want to take out those action figues I still keep in my musty old cupboard and play with them all over again.
Reliving childhood days can actually achieve something remarkable in you - it can energise you and renew your youth. Yes, of course we do get on in terms of age every year, but we certainly can do ourselves a huge favour if we can still keep that child in us in a large corner in our hearts. I think we could all do with a little bit more child-like innocence and easy laughter in our lives. Oh get away from me Cynicism, Pessimism and Indifference!
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
A conversation with a grand dame this evening
she teared.
she took out her hankerchief and wiped the tears from her moist eyes.
she had told us that her husband passed away 1 and a half years ago.
I couldn't bear to look at her. The loss must have been immense. She still grieves.
My lovely wife and I were having dinner at ponggol nasi lemak stall at tg katong road. The long queue is sometimes hard to believe. You would think that the food would be delectable, and you can't help but join in the queue after driving past this stall for the past few times.
The food is not bad but ain't that good!
Halfway through our meal, a lady sat at the next table. She was using a walking stick. She's clearly old beyond her years, having lived a full and hard life. You could tell that, from the lines on her weather-beaten face.
When I glanced at her again, she was looking at me, and smiled at me. There was a twinkle in her eye.
She said to us," Why is there such a long queue?"
I explained to her that the folks were queuing for the nasi lemak, and she found it remarkable. It had been her first time at the nasi lemak stall.
That's where the conversation started flowing.
She was very open, as she shared bits & pieces of her life story, while her son queued up for the nasi lemak.
You could tell, her words are weighed with years of experience, as she shared her youth as a nursing officer for 38 years; bringin up her 2 children, supporting them faithfully to university education in the USA; her overseas trips over the years.
I was listening intently, punctuated by mouthfuls of rice and chicken. Somehow, I was drawn towards this lady. If I were under her care in the hospital, I knew I would be in good hands. She has this enduring quality about her, tempered by hardship and pure perseverance, she has such strength in her chararacter that is filled with care and love.
After a brief moment of silence, she said, "my husband passed away 1 and a half years ago."
I sympathised with her. It's hard to deal with the loss of a dear one. I have no idea how long she had been married but undoubtedly it would be decades.
How do you deal with it when you lose your life partner, best friend, soul mate?
There must be such a crushing grief. Time heals all hurt? I am not sure about that.
But there is something that would at least lift her heart. Her son arrived, with two plates of nasi lemak on the tray.
She smiled at me. It was time for us to depart. But before we left, we went up to her, smiled at her and said, "We had a lovely time talking with you. God bless you."
It has been a poignant experience. As we drove off, Siang and I shared our admiration and respect for her. We felt humbled.
she took out her hankerchief and wiped the tears from her moist eyes.
she had told us that her husband passed away 1 and a half years ago.
I couldn't bear to look at her. The loss must have been immense. She still grieves.
My lovely wife and I were having dinner at ponggol nasi lemak stall at tg katong road. The long queue is sometimes hard to believe. You would think that the food would be delectable, and you can't help but join in the queue after driving past this stall for the past few times.
The food is not bad but ain't that good!
Halfway through our meal, a lady sat at the next table. She was using a walking stick. She's clearly old beyond her years, having lived a full and hard life. You could tell that, from the lines on her weather-beaten face.
When I glanced at her again, she was looking at me, and smiled at me. There was a twinkle in her eye.
She said to us," Why is there such a long queue?"
I explained to her that the folks were queuing for the nasi lemak, and she found it remarkable. It had been her first time at the nasi lemak stall.
That's where the conversation started flowing.
She was very open, as she shared bits & pieces of her life story, while her son queued up for the nasi lemak.
You could tell, her words are weighed with years of experience, as she shared her youth as a nursing officer for 38 years; bringin up her 2 children, supporting them faithfully to university education in the USA; her overseas trips over the years.
I was listening intently, punctuated by mouthfuls of rice and chicken. Somehow, I was drawn towards this lady. If I were under her care in the hospital, I knew I would be in good hands. She has this enduring quality about her, tempered by hardship and pure perseverance, she has such strength in her chararacter that is filled with care and love.
After a brief moment of silence, she said, "my husband passed away 1 and a half years ago."
I sympathised with her. It's hard to deal with the loss of a dear one. I have no idea how long she had been married but undoubtedly it would be decades.
How do you deal with it when you lose your life partner, best friend, soul mate?
There must be such a crushing grief. Time heals all hurt? I am not sure about that.
But there is something that would at least lift her heart. Her son arrived, with two plates of nasi lemak on the tray.
She smiled at me. It was time for us to depart. But before we left, we went up to her, smiled at her and said, "We had a lovely time talking with you. God bless you."
It has been a poignant experience. As we drove off, Siang and I shared our admiration and respect for her. We felt humbled.
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