In 1974, during recess, after spending my 20 sens at the canteen, I went to play football with my friends. We never use real football, but the fruit from trees that grew all over the school compound, which made the grounds of my primary school, Sekolah Ismail, Muar, a cool shady place.
The older boys, those in standards (they them "year" now) 5 and 6 goes for interval (now known as "recess") after we the younger boys in standards 1,2, and 3 have finished ours. But, we are not to play in the vicinity of the older boys classrooms.
But, as fate has it, one of my friends had accidentally kicked the fruit a little too hard and it rolled the the basketball court that we used as our playing pitch. Chasing the little green fruit...I didn't realize that I have encroached the into forbidden area.
Luckily, I the prefects were in a good mood and ignored me. After I caught up with the fruit, I turned to see where I was, and realized I had a clear view of a standard 5 classroom. In it, I see several boys (it was an all boys school) were standing with their hands behind their backs. The teacher, walked from one standing boy to another asking something I cannot hear. One unfortunate boy did not give the correct answer... and the teacher, grabbed the back of the boy's neck and brought it down on to the desk, hard. There was a loud bang... and I thought I saw blood trickling onto the boy's white school uniform.
I went home after school that day and told my mother that I wanted to change schools. Mother and father both agreed without asking me why...., probably because I wasn't doing very well in school and by then Mother was already 50 and Father was 60. I suspect that they've had enough of my bratty attitude, hoping some time away would do me good.
In 1975, I started school in standard 5 in Sekolah Rendah Alam Shah, Petaling Jaya, Selangor....
And, no.. it didn't do any good... I think I only matured when I touched 35...
The older boys, those in standards (they them "year" now) 5 and 6 goes for interval (now known as "recess") after we the younger boys in standards 1,2, and 3 have finished ours. But, we are not to play in the vicinity of the older boys classrooms.
But, as fate has it, one of my friends had accidentally kicked the fruit a little too hard and it rolled the the basketball court that we used as our playing pitch. Chasing the little green fruit...I didn't realize that I have encroached the into forbidden area.
Luckily, I the prefects were in a good mood and ignored me. After I caught up with the fruit, I turned to see where I was, and realized I had a clear view of a standard 5 classroom. In it, I see several boys (it was an all boys school) were standing with their hands behind their backs. The teacher, walked from one standing boy to another asking something I cannot hear. One unfortunate boy did not give the correct answer... and the teacher, grabbed the back of the boy's neck and brought it down on to the desk, hard. There was a loud bang... and I thought I saw blood trickling onto the boy's white school uniform.
I went home after school that day and told my mother that I wanted to change schools. Mother and father both agreed without asking me why...., probably because I wasn't doing very well in school and by then Mother was already 50 and Father was 60. I suspect that they've had enough of my bratty attitude, hoping some time away would do me good.
In 1975, I started school in standard 5 in Sekolah Rendah Alam Shah, Petaling Jaya, Selangor....
And, no.. it didn't do any good... I think I only matured when I touched 35...
Comments
Post a Comment