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!
Thursday, February 22, 2007
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.
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