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!

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.

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!