Top of Mind

Buried alive

2006-05-21T18:07:00.000+08:00

Have lots to blog about. But currently buried under piles of exam scripts, exam feedback to consolidate, report cards to prepare, and the most annoying of all -- holiday lessons to get ready for!! (Tell me what does 'Teach Less Learn More' mean again?)

Will be back.

Explaining 'wayang'

2006-05-04T20:53:00.000+08:00

You know how, when you need to explain certain local terminology to a foreigner, words like kiasu, yao gui or even shiok, that you struggle to find the right words to articulate the rich and multi-dimensional facets of the word and you end up giving examples, hoping that the kwai lo will get it?

So now I think we have a new term we need to explain to our hapless friends : wayang. Used pretty extensively recently in the press, I'm sure the uninitiated needs some help here to fully appreciate what all the fuss over this word is all about. Let the English teacher here offer some examples :

1. Wayang is when your high class friends, who live in private property and hardly fancy taking walks in your crummy estate, suddenly turn up at your humble HDB flat, and offer to scrub your floor. You wonder what's their hidden motive and think, "Wa, what's all this wayang about?"

2. Wayang is when your father tells you he's going to work out a pocket money policy for you, and you go into a serious anxiety attack because he looks like he's really going to implement it this time (after all he's told the whole clan about his plan and he looks very confident it'll work and save him a bundle). Then suddenly, when you threaten to drop out of school if he cuts your allowance, he backtracks and says, "Actually, implementing the pocket money policy would be a huge administrative burden. I think maybe I won't do it after all." Then you can say, "Wa lao, if I know you wayang so much, I don't need to get so worried la."

3. Wayang is also when you sit in a coffee shop and let off steam to some of your kopi tiam acquaintances about your anal retentive boss. Then next day, you discover your kopi tiam friend has reported your remark to your boss and now you have to apologise for what you said in an unguarded moment or your career would be at stake. To which you can then utter, "Wa piang, you listen to me like a friend, now you bite me back. You very good at wayang hor?"

4. Wayang is when you change the script according to what direction the wind is blowing. Like for example, 71 years old is too old, but 83 is not. In a wayang, actors can improvise his lines as he sees fit.

5. Wayang is when you call certain people Normal, when actually what you mean is they are not Express, Gifted, Special or take a special kind of transport (like through-train). In a wayang, you give names to people so that they sound nice and it helps you to enact your story with more convincing power.

Anyone who can contribute better definitions or examples of wayang, please enlighten us so that we, as well as our foreign friends, can better appreciate the complexities of this lovely Singlish word.

What's wrong with you parents?

2006-05-01T19:57:00.000+08:00

I'm utterly disgusted with the parents featured in The Sunday Times (30 Apr) who still blatantly give monetary handouts to their grown-up, working 'children'. Of course I am equally appalled that single adults who are earning at least $1500 a month can expect their parents to foot their handphone bills or support their lavish lifestyle.

I mean, where is your spine, you young un-encumbered post-65ers who are supposed to herald the next era of societal progress?

But I reserve the most scathing comment for the parents of these parasitic offsprings for it is you and your warped parenting that is doing more harm than you realise. Every time I see an ill-disciplined, wayward child in school, I go to the source of the problem, and more often than not, it is the parents and their poor parenting, that has bred the next generation of irresponsible, self-seeking and self-centred children.

What values are you imparting to your children, when you cannot even let them manage their monthly expenses independently? There are many families who subsist on less than $1500 a month, so why is it so difficult for your child with an executive job to survive on such an amount, when he/she already has free lodging and food readily supplied by you? Do you know what kind of monsters you are creating when you unquestioningly offer such handouts in the name of love for your child?

And we thought we want to raise the next generation of people who are resilient? Can we please give these middle-class parents some lessons on parenting first?

P.S. Read blogger Ondine's post about this as well. Her no holds barred vitriolic attack on these hothouse young adults gets a standing ovation from moi.

Recurring dreams

2006-04-25T21:37:00.000+08:00

There was this article about Recurring Dreams in the Sunday Times last week. And boy, am I glad to find out that I'm not the only one who has these recurring dreams :

* that of a pair of contact lens that get bigger and bigger as I was about to put them in my eyes. I have asked around and have never found anyone who has such dreams. So the only plausible reason I gave for such a bizarre dream (let alone the fact that it's a recurring theme) was that I have big eyes, and deep in my subconscious I have this fear that I cannot find contact lens that will fit me. Now that I know there are fellow growing-contact lens dreamers like me, my hypothesis is quashed and I am beginning to posit that maybe we are people who fear putting foreign objects in our eyes but are too vain to wear spectacles. And this fear manifests itself in a dream when contact lens must necessarily become the evil object that refuses to be a conspirator in our vanity.

* that of being late for exam; and or of not being able to answer the exam paper. This, despite the fact that I have left school for more than 10 years, is quite telling. Singapore is one of the few places where many people are traumatized, to some degrees, by exams.

* that of frantically looking for a place to pee; or of finding a place, but being unable to pee (the darn thing just won't come out!). A simple case of not emptying my bladder before I sleep, I suppose.

* that of being possessed by the devil. This is one that I try to find a spiritual reason for. I remember occasions when I felt like I was in a trance in my dream, and I tried to wake up, but I couldn't. And in my dream, I would be screaming for Jesus, but an oppressive force would suffocate me. I am extremely frightened of such dreams, and wonder at times if they are even dreams at all, but are actually real cases of demonic oppression.

* that of having someone hold my hand. Doesn't sound like a big deal except that this is a recurring phenomenon, as if I feel a desperate need to have my hand held, and it is always by a man. Sometimes he is someone I know, sometimes he's a stranger. Perhaps my insecurity surfaces in my dreams, where my need to have someone guide me, or take charge of me is manifested. I usually wake up feeling ridiculously comforted. (Except when the man who held my hand in my dream is an..eh... 'untouchable', you know what I mean, in which case I'll feel quite guilty for having such forbidden thoughts.)

I'm no scientist or psychoanalyst so I don't know the full implications of my recurring dreams. But it sure feels reassuring to know that some of my recurring dreams are not unique to me. I'm not that weird after all.

'Cher, you remember me?

2006-04-14T22:56:00.000+08:00

I got a surprise phone call today. From an ex-student whom I had taught more than 2 years ago.

Now he wasn't a model student in any sense of the word. In fact, he gave me quite a bit of problem then - was caught smoking in the toilet, skipped school, coloured his hair...etc. He was a bright kid though, but he wasn't keen on studying, and after his N levels, despite just making the cut to continue to Sec 5 to take his O levels, he decided to quit secondary school to join ITE.

Now he's going to be enrolled into NS next month. And in between his smattering of English, Mandarin and Hokkien, he told me he wanted to meet up, "drink kopi", and catch up.

As teachers, we naturally like the students who listen to us in class, do their homework dutifully and win awards for the school. But there is another bunch of students, the ones in the shadows, the non-achieving ones, and sometimes even the wayward, trouble-making ones, who somehow never leave your mind.

They leave school eventually, and you heave a sigh of relief, for your days of torture teaching them are over. But you wonder at times what they have become since then. And then when one of them calls you out of the blue, you know somehow he hasn't forgotten you too.

Now I've got a kopi date with my pre-NS ex-student. And for some inexplicable reason, I am looking forward to meeting him soon. :)

If Pa were still around

2006-04-10T10:11:00.000+08:00

In the run-up to Good Friday, I was suddenly besieged with a sense of loss. For it was on Good Friday last year, that my father left us, after many years of fighting COPD, a cruel fate branded on heavy and stubborn smokers.

I can still remember the day in the hospital. It being a public holiday, all of us were there, not knowing if that day would be his last, though we were painfully aware that he was already tottering at the edge.

His last words, strange as it may seem now, was a strong, passionate comment about gambling. A visiting relative had mentioned, by way of making conversation, about the government's casino decision. And Pa had mustered all the strength he could summon in his frail state, and said, "Gambling is wrong! No matter what!" And then he slumped back onto his bed, and closed his eyes to rest.

The rest of the afternoon passed, with him slipping into unconsciousness. By then the heart monitor was showing signs of his impending departure and we hovered at his side, and urged him to hang on, for my brother was at that point on a plane, rushing back from the U.S. He never got back in time to say goodbye though. And I saw, with my own eyes, how Pa's life ebbed away, with every fading beat of the heart monitor.

* * * * * *

For a reticent man like my father, he sure had very strong views about certain things. If he were still around now, I am pretty sure he would :

- vote against the PAP in the coming elections. That has always been his stand. He felt very marginalised and oppressed by the ruling party. I think he would have collected his Progress Package, muttering "About time!" and voted for the other side anyway because he never believed the PAP had done his lot much good.

- rant non-stop about the soaring prices of cigarettes, but still dutifully hobble to the mama store to get his daily fix, even as the nefarious demon sucks the life out of him. And he would blame it on the government, for the high duties he has to bear would enrich their coffers, while robbing the poor smokers like him, who could not kick the habit. He had a similar line of argument about COEs and the maid levy.

- still refuse to call my brother in the U.S. because "I don't know what to say". Pa is a product of the traditional Chinese upbringing, where fathers do not tell their children they love them. And though his heart pines for him, and he yearns to know how he is coping in that ang-moh country, and he tells relatives with pride that "my son is working in the U.S.", he just could not bring himself to pick up the phone. And the chasm between him and my brother is never closed, and will never be closed now because my brother did not make it home in time to see Pa on his last day on earth and he is left wondering just how much, if at all, Pa loved him.

* * * * * * * * * *

As Good Friday approaches, I think of Pa again. With a bit of regret, I think of how we, as his children, didn't really say the things we should have said to him. Like how grateful we are, that an uneducated lorry-driver with a very hard life, could put 3 kids through university, with very little external help. Like how proud we are of his tenacity and selflessness, for though bitter and angry he had been about the establishment, he still ploughed on, and gave us all a decent start in our lives, so that we won't end up frustrated and bitter like him.

I'll remember, Pa, that gambling is wrong. Cos if it matters to you to say this on your dying bed, I will remember it forever.

Stupid newspaper

2006-04-01T10:19:00.000+08:00

On Monday, a day after the accursed article from the Sunday Times came out, I was suddenly asked to see the Principal. I was in between periods, and basically just minding my own business, getting ready for my next lesson.

I must confess, a sudden panic seized me and a few thoughts ran through my head. "He's going to say,'I heard you've got a blog.' " And then I'm going to be made to admit to writing about things that to his opinion, are not professional of teachers, such as griping about my work, and using curse words like "arse" in my capacity as a teacher, and not being a good role model, etc etc. I actually said a silent prayer for strength and fortitude before I trudged down to his office.

Imagine my relief when it turned out to be nothing of the sort. Actually he had more pleasant things to say to me. And I felt silly for even letting that stupid newspaper article unseat me.

Damn you, Sunday Times. For writing about a non-issue. And yes, it's another pathetic attempt by the MSM to cast aspersions on bloggers. Shame on you, for choosing to pick on a group of people who are vulnerable to sometimes unreasonable scrutiny from parents and the public, when the majority of us teachers here are trying our darndest to connect with our students, and who need the space to vent so that we can keep our sanity in this demanding job. We know how to blog professionally and responsibly, and we don't need some newspaper folks to remind us. You just mind your own business, and stop butting into ours.

Spotlight on teachers

2006-03-25T17:16:00.000+08:00

So The Sunday Times tomorrow is going to run a story "Should Teachers Blog?"

Gee, why on earth....?

Why not "Should lawyers blog?" or "Should politicians blog?"

Why are teachers singled out? What exactly triggered this report?

I'll find out tomorrow, and hopefully it won't spell the death knell for teacher bloggers. May the force be with us!

Why we will never have world sports champions

2006-03-22T11:12:00.000+08:00

I cannot tahan when parents write pathetic letters like this one to the ST Forum and expect MOE to do something about it.

If schools have to protect your precious kids from the scorching sun and give them indoor comfort (lets even throw in air-conditioning for goodness sake), then might as well pull your kids out from whatever sports CCA he's in. Who has heard of training that doesn't involve heat and perspiration and exhaustion?

Sometimes I walk past students having PE lessons and I don't know whether to laugh or to cry. There are many teenaged students out there who can't play badminton for nuts, have dismal coordination skills and are as agile as an arthritic patient. I don't mean to poke fun at people who are not sporty by nature, but I am beginning to suspect that many over-protective parents are guilty of raising kids who are have poor coordination and balancing skills, can't take a bit of heat or sweat, and would rather slouch in front of a computer or TV than kick balls.

I don't know about you and your paranoia about skin cancer and all that, but kids should be out in the sun, running, kicking a ball and having a good ol' sweat. And yes, they look better and healthier chocolate-brown than tofu-white.

What holidays?

2006-03-17T11:24:00.000+08:00

I should have known better than to imagine I could actually relax during this 1 week school break. Foolish, naive me.

I returned to school on Tuesday, armed with a 15-item To-Do list (for that day alone). From 10 am to 4.30 pm, I chugged along, with no lunch break and at 4pm, my daughter called to ask why I was still not home. I swallowed a rock of guilt in my throat, and finally called it quits at 4.30pm, after completing 11 items.

Thursday I was back at school in the morning to plan for next week's lessons, and then in the afternoon till 11pm l was busy marking, marking, marking.

A check with fellow teachers who were back in school on Thursday revealed the same scenario - none of us had actually managed to catch up on our backlog of marking for we were either busy with - school camps, attending workshops, setting exam papers, and clearing the never-ending admin nonsense which the school's admin assistants had never been able to offload us from.

I bravely tried to count the number of unmarked scripts piling under my desk. I stopped after reaching 200 (and that's just for English alone, I haven't even started on my second subject!).

I spent one day this week taking my girl to the zoo, and another day just lounging at the pool. And I was appalled that I actually felt guilty for indulging myself in this way cos at the same time I was thinking of the mountains of scripts I had left untouched. This is NOT healthy man.

Does anyone in MOE realise what is going on in a typical teacher's life? Does anyone check how many teachers are in depression, been a patient in IMH, have miscarriages, etc etc?

"Holidays" my arse.

1st Poll : Mahjong with teacher?

2006-03-12T21:59:00.000+08:00

I'm in a bit of a dilemma right now. Some students had asked me if I played mahjong. I had replied enthusiastically 'yes'. My students got very excited and subsequently asked if they could come to my house to play mahjong. I discovered they loved the game, as much as, if not more, than I do.

I personally believe mahjong is a wonderful Chinese invention. I grew up watching my father play mahjong, and my student mahjong players had similar experiences. I also believe playing mahjong is no different from, say, playing poker, bridge or even Scrabble. It is a game of strategy, requiring a keen eye, good memory, cunning moves and of course, some luck.

The fact that many people equate playing mahjong with gambling has its roots in the gambling dens of old when mahjong was one of the games played, plus the many Hong Kong and even local movies and soaps which feature mahjong as its chief gambling activity. Plus, most people would play mahjong with money, as that adds to the thrill of the game.

Therein lies my dilemma. I do not think it is morally wrong to have students at my house to play mahjong, as long as no money is at stake and I'm not encouraging them to gamble. Heck, I think it is no different from inviting them to my house to play Monopoly. My students are not keen to gamble to start with. They just want to indulge in a game that they love to play.

But I fnd myself hesitating before giving them an answer. Because I know there are people who may think otherwise. My principal for one. Maybe even my student's parents? A teacher having students over for mahjong?? What on earth is she thinking of?

So I've decided to do a poll here, just to gauge what public opinion is on this. What do you think? If you are a parent, would you object if your kid goes to a teacher's house to play mahjong? What if you are my colleague and hear of me doing such a thing?

I've told my students I'll think about it first. And I want to be really clear on this before I do something that is career-limiting. So your views would be greatly appreciated.

Good friends, quaint poem

2006-03-06T22:15:00.000+08:00

It was wonderful to have my good friend Germs in town this week. Everytime I see him, I marvel at how ageless he looks. And if I close my eyes, I can almost swear we are back in our NUS days when we traded stupid jokes, mugged together in the claustrophobic tutorial room at the Science Faculty and agonized over which canteen to go to for our lunch and dinner.

Now we're a lot older, less innocent, even less carefree perhaps? But the times we had spent, each of us finding our own path to tread, penning different narratives for our respective lives, had eventually culminated in Germs seeking his own happiness in a land far away. We are separated by several oceans, but on those times when we meet, the familiarity and ease in which we settle down to talk, never fails to make me wistful and yearning for more of such times.

And now, as you traverse the miles back to your home again, with your beloved, I wish both of you many joyful days in your sprawling new home. We will meet next year, hopefully in Manado, ya?

* * * * * * * * *

My daughter L has just written a poem for her English class. She said it's supposed to be a poem about Feelings, although when I read it, it didn't really look like it.

Title: My colour Yellow!

The sun is yellow,
I feel yellow.
The flower and sun and fish are all yellow.
Yellow, yellow, yellow.
All I see is yellow.

I have a pen and it is yellow.
Yellow pen, yellow fish, yellow sun
Yellow flower, yellow book, yellow ball.
All the things in my house are yellow.

Oh no! My big house is all yellow!
I see in the sky, it is yellow
When I look at you, you are yellow.
-----------------------------------------

I guess only a mother can appreciate a quaint poem like this and publish it in her blog. My girl's first poem, at 7 years old. I think I only started poetry writing when I was 11. Way to go, girl!

Baby steps

2006-03-03T16:43:00.000+08:00

One of my students has just conferred to me "The Most Interactive Teacher Award". Apparently for my efforts to communicate with the class using my (other) blog, my hours of free tennis lessons for the interested, and possibly (I'm guessing here), my propensity to share with them snippets of my private life (holiday pictures, tales of my domestic stress etc).

I was hoping they would see me as The Most Dedicated Teacher or Most Inspiring or something more noble. Some other teacher got that award.

Oh well. Baby steps, baby steps.

Can I rock their world?

2006-02-25T12:03:00.000+08:00

I'm not sure if you can call it an epiphany of sorts, but last night, I was besieged with a sense of anticipation, of finally realising that I'm making some breakthrough with my form class. And that perhaps, this is the window of opportunity that I've been waiting for to make an impact.

I've had this class since last year. It is a good class. Too good, in fact, relative to the other classes in my school. They are a bookish, introverted, even self-centred and kiasu bunch, who patiently take notes and do their homework without a whimper. While I have no problem with discipline issues with this class, I am not happy. They lack a zest for life. Like robots, they simply do what is expected of them. I want my students to show a lot more spirit.

I had almost resigned myself to the fact that maybe this is a class I would not be able to relate to. I'll just be another teacher in a long assembly line of teachers they have. But this year, things start to change.

I don't know how it happened. Maybe it's because I kept reminding them this is their last year in secondary school. Maybe it's the other blog I had set up to communicate with them. Maybe it's my persistence in getting them to stay back after school for games, with me and with one another. Maybe it just takes a little longer for this class to warm up to me.

But suddenly, my long awaited for moment is here. The class is finally coming together as one. They have decorated their classroom in a myriad of resplendent colours. They have volunteered to do additional CIP (Community Involvement Programme) hours as a class. They have even invited students from other classes to join them. And this week, we've had 3 glorious days of playing tennis after the remedials and my meetings were over. They are livelier in class now and we engage in light-hearted banter and teasing during my lessons. I don't know if my lessons are more interesting to them now, but I can say I am enjoying myself more when I walk into class everyday.

All these is no guarantee of course that they can excel academically (which is what gets measured by the school ultimately). But because I can sense them warming up to me, I feel I have a greater power now to motivate and guide them. Yes, I truly believe it and the realisation made me dizzy with excitement.

I also think a lot about my students. I don't know if this is common amongst other teachers. Senior teachers have constantly warned starry-eyed junior teachers like us not to get emotionally attached to our students. Am I in danger of doing this?

My maternal instinct's running in 5th gear now and I feel a great sense of wanting to take these students of mine under my wings and nurture them, while I still have time. Before they fly the coop.

8 months left to rock their world. To see them mature into young men and women. 8 months to strengthen our camaraderie. 8 months to do my part. And have our seasons in the sun. I am going to enjoy every moment with them.

Touching the moon...and beyond

2006-02-12T09:09:00.000+08:00

It was a most unforgetable scene, for me and the students whose dreams had suddenly become reality. I'm referring to Friday of course, the day of reckoning for those who had sat for their O's last year.

First of all, it was the impossible target that was given to this class - albeit the best express class in the school. It wasn't the strongest cohort we have ever had, yet my HOD had dared to give them this Big Hairy Audacious Goal (BHAG) : no C's, everyone must get B's and above. We had termed it the Moon target. Needless to say, the goal became my performance target and I spent a large part of last year, and the week before the release of the O level results, swallowing very hard and trying to will the class to perform.

Now I can't erase from my mind the sight of those kids screaming in euphoria in the hall, clutching their result slips, leaping and prancing around. There were lots of hugging, and hi-fiving, and numerous phone calls to relay the good news to their family.

"We have reached the moon!" some yelled into my ears.

I couldn't help beaming, and thanking God that He had reserved this special moment for me to savour. The class had not only achieved the BHAG, they had soared beyond the moon and had hit the stars. Two-thirds of them had bagged distinctions for English! Two pinch-me-now thirds! How did this happen?

This is truly an amazing class. They scored insane results for some of the other subjects too. And their teachers were reeling in shock and unbelief on Friday. Me as well.

Never in my whole 10 over years of working have I felt such jubilation and sense of satisfaction. It is one thing to have done well in your work and get a pat from your boss, a salary increment or even a promotion. But to be a participant in someone else's success and to realise that maybe, you could be the one who have played a little part in fulfilling their dreams, that is priceless. That's the stuff of wonderful memories that you revisit every now and then. And it bolsters my belief that kids from neighbourhood schools can reach the moon, and beyond. And I'm in the right place, at the right time of my life, to do my part. It is a decidedly humbling, and awesome thought, but oh, the unspeakable joy when the constellation appears before your eyes!

Happiness is...

2006-02-10T10:25:00.000+08:00

knowing that for some inexplicable reasons, a miracle has happened.

I can't reveal details now as the information is confidential until 2pm today. But suffice to say I feel like dancing now.

At the same time, I am very humbled. Because I know, in spite of the crazy workload last year and the episodes of ranting and emotional storms I went through, God has been very very gracious to me.

What more can I say? To Him be all the glory! Amen.

Akan datang

2006-02-07T17:30:00.000+08:00

...O levels results that is. This Friday. A few of us English teachers in my school are feeling the jitters. You would think it's the students who would be tossing and turning in their beds. But you don't know, right, that we, the teachers, are somehow held accountable, even if it's just a little bit, for the results of our students.

Never mind that performance in the exam is subject to a lot of factors teachers can't control. On Friday, in the morning, the staff room would be abuzz with teachers scrambling to have first cut information from the Principal. Did we do well? How many % above national average? How many % distinction? What about value-add score?

A teacher friend from another school told me how in her school, English teachers are compelled to explain why a certain student did not score A1. Yes, it can get as unreasonable as that!

No matter how much we try to say that the education scene is moving away from pure academic performance and towards holistic education, the obsession with results still stays. Because parents want to boast and compare, principals want to show something, and somebody wants to crunch numbers because it's his job.

So it's back to tossing and turning in bed for me. My first attempt at teaching a graduating class last year. And I don't know if I've got anything to show for it. Stress stress stress.

I'm NOT marking today!

2006-01-30T22:49:00.000+08:00

My husband just asked me why I'm on the computer and not doing my marking as I said I would yesterday.

Because, my dear, I had spent the first day of CNY marking till 12 midnight, and any superstitious senior citizen would tell you that's a very suay thing to do on Chinese New Year.

So today, no marking. Tomorrow I'll crank up my engine again. Today is goofing-off day.

Sex Education - Here we go again

2006-01-30T20:44:00.001+08:00

The conversation topic amongst my friends this CNY is about the recent newspaper report about Anderson Junior College's sex education talk. I'm unable to provide a link here (don't have paid subscription to ST Interactive), but perhaps reading an AJC student's opinion about the talk will give you an idea why there's such a furore over the alleged preachy element in the talk, in stark contrast to what AJC insisted was an innocuous educational program .

Aside from the fact that my friends and I were astounded that there are still people who think that masturbation is wrong in this day and age, we were also divided in our opinions over what approach schools should take in sex education.

My friend L opined that schools should stay away from values-education when it comes to something as personal as sex and that schools should just provide the facts and let students make their own decisions. The minute values are injected into a discussion on sex education, schools are guilty of imposing their beliefs on students, like what AJC has done.

I don't really agree with him though. I think schools are in the business of teaching values. Otherwise we might as well do away with the Civics and Moral Education (CME) subject altogether. The difficulty is which set of values schools should be imparting. There are the official, MOE-sanctioned values which schools are obliged to inculcate (not all are accepted wholly by society at large, for instance its stance on homosexuality). Then there are values which are tied to a certain religion and this is where schools which engage external organizations to conduct a value-loaded topic like sex edcuation need to be very careful about. If you get an external organization with religious affiliation to conduct sex education talks, you are likely to raise hackles amongst students for trying to impose your religious biases on others. In my opinion, it's better to take a secular approach so that you get maximum reach without disengaging any particular group.

AJC's explanation that the talk was merely to expose the students to a variety of perspectives is not convincing. If that is really the aim, then the school should engage another organization that believes in contraception to give a talk, and another that espouses the benefits of stem cell research etc. And once you follow this line of thought, what's to stop a school from hearing from some extremist organization, in the name of "variety of exposure"?

Since my last encounter with Focus on the Family in my school, I have been wary of the sex education message from external organizations with religious affiliations. Their intentions may be good, but they sometimes cross the line between telling the facts, and preaching. I may be a Christian, but I would not go so far as to expect people to adhere to the same level of conviction on matters like abstinence or homosexuality, for example, as me. Such issues are contentious even amongst Christians, so how can any organization purport to teach a particular stand to students who hail from different religious backgrounds and possess varying moral convictions?

Worse still, when such organizations get students to write down statements of belief in their workbook (in the AJC case), or in the case of Focus on the Family, to sign pledge cards of virginity, I want to cry "Foul!" and state categorically here, that this is patronizing, coercive, even oppressive and downright wrong.

I like school because

2006-01-29T09:40:00.000+08:00

...a student baked pineapple tarts the night before and gave some to me, packed nicely in a plastic container, with my name and "Gong xi fa cai" written on it in gorgeous, rainbow colours.

...my form class gave me a whole bag of CNY goodies! Didn't they know I'm trying to control my weight??!!

...the teachers got to play a friendly teacher-student Captain's Ball match as the grand finale of our CNY celebrations. I joined in, in my floppy shoes and all, and for that wonderful 30 minutes, I felt gloriously young again.

...ex-students who had graduated came back in throngs to celebrate CNY with us, and played a friendly Captain's Ball with the current students. Watching those tall, grown-up boys and beautiful blossoming girls, I am filled with a sense of pride that parents usually feel when they see their kids grow up. Yes, I'm a sentimental old woman, but this is something I've never felt in all my previous jobs, and that's why I treasure it so much.

Happy New Year to you all!

To speak and to be silent

2006-01-21T11:17:00.000+08:00

I made a little ripple yesterday. Shall not elaborate on the details but it is enough for me to know that I spoke up about something. Some people noticed and said some nice things. So I am now emboldened, and shall be more outspoken, especially to silence people who speak without thinking.

+ + + + + + + + + +

Yesterday some people rattled me too. I wish I could say the usual "sticks and stones..." ditty, but unfortunately I am not that saintly. So the words hurt and irritated me.

But in November last year, I had written in my journal,

"Let your forbearing spirit be known to all men." (Phil 4:5)

- a reminder from God, that it is better sometimes to curb my tongue and not confront people.

Hence, I choose to be quiet on this occasion. Let the offending words be like water over a duck's body. It is hard, but I hope it will get progressively easier. So God help me.

A mother's agony

2006-01-21T10:22:00.000+08:00

Yesterday you made me so proud. In fact, I was so overjoyed with your success I couldn't stop telling people about it.

You got your work published in a book. Which is a very impressive thing to do for a 7-year-old. I remembered you painstakingly cutting out pieces of paper last year, then stapling them together in a crude way to make a little book. Then you proceeded to create your story. And you drew lovely pictures to illustrate them. All these in a language you were not very confident in - Chinese.

So when you showed me your school's collection of students' work, printed in a nice glossy book and I saw your name and your Chinese comic strip on page 11, I felt a lump in my throat, and tears prickling my eyelids. I told you how immensely proud I was of you. I couldn't stop exclaiming, and poring over the details of your published work, making sure the printer had represented every line and every word accurately.

But your reaction puzzled and saddened me. You said your work was not as good as the others. And you didn't want me to show the book to anyone else. At times like these, I wonder what I had done wrong as a mother. Had I not been encouraging, supportive and nurturing? Had I not been giving you positive reinforcement for good behaviour, just like the experts said I should? Then why is your self-esteem so low? Why are you not happy about your own achievement?

Maybe it was those days when I chastised you for watching too much TV? Maybe I was too harsh on you for not learning your ting-xie well? Maybe at some unconscious occasions I had compared you to someone else?

I know I shouldn't be so hard on myself but it is a sobering thing to realise how fragile a child's sense of self-worth is. That it could be damaged or compromised by some careless word we say, or by an act of omission, makes me see my responsibility as a parent in a graver light.

Every parent fumbles at parenting at some point. However, I hope you realise that I try very hard to do the right thing for you, all the time if I can. Hence for the record, I want it written here, so that if you read this when you are older, you will know and understand that I am truly, singularly proud of you. That for getting your work published and read by your peers at 7 years old, you have achieved something your mummy and daddy had never done before. We are your cheerleaders and loyal supporters and we'll give you a standing ovation anytime. Take a bow and know that you are gifted. Well done, girl!

My first meme!

2006-01-19T09:46:00.000+08:00

First time I've been tagged! I'm not sure if anyone is really interested in such trivia about me but if it gives you a glimpse into who I am and you are even a little curious, then read on.

(This came in between my lessons when I was deciding between marking essays and doing something more fun. Guess you know which one wins. :) )

4 jobs you've had in your life:
- microfiche operator (most brainless job I've had!)
- sales promoter for sports goods
- marketing (my longest career to date. It was fun and shitty at the same time.)
- teacher (still wet behind the ears in this one, but so far so good.)
(Actually there are more but then it'll seem like I'm so old, which I am not. Really.)

4 movies you could watch over and over:
- Dead Man Walking (Sean Penn is hauntingly gripping in this one)
- Nine Months (I think all mothers can identify with this one)
- Stepmom (had me crying and crying!)
- the one with Richard Gere as lawyer and Edward Norton as his client who faked a split personality (the title escapes me now, arrggghhh!)

4 TV shows you love(d) to watch:
- Boston Public
- ER (for Clooney, who else?)
- Friends
- The Practice (for those fierce female lawyers with the ascerbic tongue! Brill!)

4 places you've lived :
- only Singapore. Sigh....

4 places you've been on vacation to :
- Los Angeles
- Turkey (for my honeymoon)
- Kota Kinabalu
- Phuket (my most frequently visited place)

4 places you would rather be :
- Phuket
- a berry & lavender farm in Pemberton, Western Australia
- Pulau Aur
- southern Turkey

4 of your favourite foods :
- ice-cream
- Belgian chocolates
- char kway teow
- toast with butter & sugar

4 websites you visit daily :
- my own blog
- Tym's blog
- Mr Wang's blog
- Ball of Yarn's blog
(looks like my diet is very restricted. It will change when the school holidays come.)

4 tagged :
- pc
- Heavenly Sword
- Ball of Yarn
- tcsd

Phew!! OK, now back to those essays. It's been a nice break. Cheers!

Come out and play

2006-01-15T16:21:00.000+08:00

The sun finally came out on Friday, after almost a whole week of relentless rain. I saw the slivers of sunlight shot through the windows, illuminating the tops of your heads as you all bent earnestly on your desks, furiously writing away. Your brows were furrowed, your race against the clock evident on your faces and your intense concentration and peering at the periodic table were at times comical, at times frightening.

It's only mid-January, and you are all buried in tests already. I was only invigilating, but I could sense the anxiety in the air, the heaviness that could not be lifted even with the first rays of sunlight this week.

I had told you all just 2 days ago, to enjoy your last year in this school. Yes, it's your O levels year, and every teacher and every parent would be telling you to mug, and revise and not waste your time. To secure as many A's as you can get, and a place in a good JC. But looking at you all now, my heart sank a little.

Soon the remedial classes would start, and most of your afternoons would be burnt, crammed with more studying. I know, it's your O levels year, but "come and play tennis with me on Fridays!" I had cajoled you. You gave me a weak laugh. Like you thought I was joking, or making small talk. But I was, and am serious.

I want you all to not spend your last year in secondary school just obsessing about the O levels. Yes, I know it's a major milestone. And you can't afford to screw up. But 10 years later, when you look back, I don't want you to just remember the studying. I want you to remember the fun we've had playing tennis or badminton on hot humid afternoons, when the boundary between teacher and student is temporarily blurred, and we can act silly and say heck to the O levels. I want you to be like children, and laugh more.

But now, you look like you've got the world on your shoulders. And that saddens me. Because it's only January. The stress will never end, even after you graduate from school. But the year of being 16, they come and go, in a flash. So come out and play. Come out and be 16, be crazy, be hilarious. I am waiting at the tennis court.

Is teaching a dead-end job?

2006-01-07T10:49:00.000+08:00

When someone as obnoxious as Everitt Road's Chan Cheng Koon smugly retorted that "teaching is a dead-end job", it makes your blood boil. Forum writer Kelvin Law was quick with a rebuttal and while one part of me was silently going, "Way to go Kelvin!", the other half, after my morning coffee and considerable rumination, started thinking about this notion a little more deeply.

Because I am a teacher now, it is important for me personally, to ponder whether I am indeed in a dead-end job. After all, I had worked in various professions and industries before I joined teaching, so I could make some ready comparisons.

I also noted, to my amusement, that the annual recruitment drive for teachers is now on. In fact, many teacher-wannabes would be attending a seminar today, to be sold the idea of the wonders of teaching. If it's really a dead-end job, I'm sure MOE would be refuting it vehemently today.

OK, so here's my 2-cents:

1) Teaching is a dead end job.
At least that's the conclusion I would have drawn if I were to take the cue from some teachers I had seen when I was a student, and even now, from watching some teachers.

It is a dead-end job, especially for those who have done nothing but teach for their whole life. Whose lives revolve around the school, and who think nothing of coming back on Saturdays to work, even going to the extent of protesting against the new 5-day work week ruling, because they don't know how to spend their weekend otherwise. Who feel comforted and even proud of their vast collection of teaching resources, not realising that many of the materials they have are yellowed with age, and haven't been updated for the last 8 years. Who scoff at the recent thrust to use IT in teaching and don't know the difference between a URL and an email adress.

They are still teaching after 30 years, not because they are passionate about teaching, but because moving out of familiar territory is too horrible to imagine. People for whom the predictable cycle of school term and school holidays is like a perpetual clock that tells them when to do what without having to think about it. It's like a lullaby that evokes feelings of serenity and unchangeability.

Yes, I suspect there are teachers like that in every school. And as long as there are teachers like that around, it is no wonder people think teaching is a dead-end job.

2) Teaching is not a dead-end job.
Thankfully, there are teachers I have met, who, despite spending a large part of their lives teaching, are ebullient about their job. They are the students' confidant, parent, friend and disciplinarian. While they have a rich resource of experience to harness from, they are not shy of learning from new and younger teachers. They are in tune to the latest trends, but are also prudent to avoid slavish adoption of anything new.

Many of them are actually not that keen to become principals or move on to be some senior bureaucrats in the HQ, even though they have the competencies to move into that track. To them, being a teacher keeps them in touch with students, to do the nurturing as MOE so aptly puts it, which is what drives them to be teachers in the first place. Shuffling papers around in an office and making policies is simply not their calling.

To these people, teaching is certainly not a dead-end job. How can it be, when you are so involved with influencing many lives for the future?

Hence, while I want to applaud Kelvin Law for speaking up for us teachers, I do not want to put a gloss in this highly demanding profession. It has been a much misunderstood and at times romanticized career option. People who want to know the realities of teaching should speak to real life teachers and not get their information solely from movies, or even, dare I say, MOE advertisement!

Of convent girls, hormones and light bulbs

2006-01-02T16:07:00.000+08:00

What happens when you put 2 teachers, a banker, an investment analyst, a gynaecologist, a Bible school student, a senior civil servant and a businesswoman together?

No, no...this is not my idea of a joke. This was what really happened on New Year's eve - it was my mini class reunion. It was a meeting of ex-convent girls, some of whom had since gone on to excel in the luminous fields of medicine and global investment, private banking and civil service, while one had sought the less trodden path of spiritual development.

Well, the result of meeting after such a long time is you get a 5 hour royal rumble about how time has not changed some of us (a couple of the women could easily slip into our old school uniform and be instantly transformed into the schoolgirls of yester year), not forgetting the usual grouses about husbands who can't change a light bulb, and other entertaining domestic challenges.

One conversation topic stood out that day though, and I think it is a scary reminder of how some of us are slowly coming to terms with our mortality. We talked about hormones, about progesterone and oestrogen, and menopause, and the anti-ageing movement. It helps to have a gynaecologist around, to steer the conversation towards some logical, sensible direction, otherwise we of the more hypochondriac variety could have hurtled uncontrollably into an abysss of despair and helplessness. So while the spectre of hormone deficiency, menopause, wrinkles and dangling skinfolds wobble ominously above our heads, we get a fair dose of sober but wise advice from our doctor friend. Which I am very grateful for, because we women tend to worry so much about such things. Especially those of us who have young children who still need us.

Another observation is the common adage about how the grass is always greener on the other side. The married among us were griping about the stress we face each day, until we were silenced by the only single woman in the group, who almost leapt out of her chair while saying, "You all have husbands you can turn to at the end of the day, and children you can hug, and fulfilling jobs. What stress are you talking about??!! Who do you think I can turn to at the end of a lousy day??"

Gulp. And here we were, thinking how she must be so carefree, not having to worry about kids, take care of husband, pay off a mortgage...etc.

I think I left the reunion with a greater sense of humility, and a sobering realization of my limited time on this earth. I think life is not easy for any one, married or otherwise. So it is only right that we be more sensitive and caring towards those we have the chance to meet and befriend.

Which leaves me with this to bless my girl friends with for 2006. Until we meet again for another reunion, here's to EVERLASTING YOUTH and FRIENDSHIP. Cheers mate!

"Whom the gods love die young," I used to quote
Glibly, but in the rather thoughtless way,
One says a thing that he has learned by rote,
Nor knows the meaning which the words convey.

For then I thought it meant they died when young
In years, and this no doubt is often true;
But now with time a clearer note has rung
New meaning to the words; there are a few

Whom time can never age -- not even with years;
These keep a dream, nor let its flame burn low...
They look ahead, beyond regrets and tears --
Old age is something they can never know.

("Whom the Gods Love", Margaret E Bruner)

Peanuts!

2005-12-27T16:44:00.000+08:00

I've just sat at my computer and pounded out a whirlwind school tour schedule for the Sec One's next week. This was not before another colleague called me and asked, in a now familiar tone of despair, if I had done the XYZ list of things for the English department. Huh?

Before suicidal thoughts engulf me, here's something I did to console myself. My blog is worth some peanut amount, according to this site. (Thanks to blogger pc, from whom I got the link.)

My blog is worth $1,693.62.
How much is your blog worth?

Oh well, not bad for a newbie. (Pat pat on the shoulder)

Now, it's back to getting things in order before the staff meeting tomorrow. AAARRRRGGGHHH!!

Somebody please kick my butt

2005-12-27T13:53:00.000+08:00

It's 2pm Tuesday and the 3-day staff meeting to get ready for the new school term starts tomorrow. I have a zillion work-related things I should have done during the holidays but didn't.

And I got sick the past 4 days. So again zero productivity.

How to face the new school year? Or, how to face the staff meeting tomorrow when I have accomplished nothing?

Why am I in such a state every year? Why is it that teachers never seem to get enough school holidays?

The $200 sentence

2005-12-27T12:10:00.000+08:00

Overheard at the MRT the other day - two women, sitting next to me, talking about English tuition one of the women's child had.

Woman 1: When I asked him what he learnt at tuition today, he told me he learnt how to write sentences.
Woman 2: What? Just sentences?
Woman 1: Ya lor! I said "What? I paid $200 every month for you to learn how to write compositions, and all you did was write sentences?" And he just nodded his head and said that's what he did.

Now I admit I don't know how old this child is, and the specifics of his English tuition, but the teacher in me was very tempted to confront the two women and give them a lecture or two about the importance of writing good, proper sentences.

The whole problem with this tuition business, is that parents expect tuition to miraculously transform their kid from a D to an A grader, and in super quick timeframe too. And because they paid money for it, they equate quality tuition with something tangible -- like extra homework, worksheets or in this case, compositions.

There is nothing inherently wrong with learning to write sentences. I tell you, many Secondary school students are still not adept at forming grammatically correct sentences, since grammar drilling has largely disappeared in Singapore schools in the last decade or so. Many teachers, in fact, fumble at this, and I'm not just talking about non-English language teachers. So, given that we have landed ourselves in this sad state of affairs , we should applaud teachers and tutors who are taking pains to train our kids to start from the sentence level, even if the kid is in secondary school. The composition can come later, when the basic sentence-making skill is better established.

There's a lot of discussion lately on whether tuition is really necessary. For some students, like maybe the child of the woman mentioned above, perhaps tuition is one way he can catch up with his peers, if he's struggling with sentence-making while others are producing decent quality essays. Maybe tuition can be a useful tool, if parents stop using it as a panacea for all ills -- like lack of motivation, laziness, or worse, to meet their own unrealistic expectations. Tuition can be a lifeline for those who learn at a slower pace, since in the hectic pace of teaching in school, there is only so much a teacher can do for each student in class.

So parents, stop bitching about the $200-sentence investment. It could well be worth every cent you pay. The tutor may actually know what he's doing (which is more than what I can say for some parents).

Spreading the word

2005-12-23T08:20:00.000+08:00

A big thank you to my brother, who sent me this link.

Germs: This is for you to brush up on your Hokkien.

To everyone else reading this, I hope you will take some time to reflect on the real meaning of Christmas.

God bless you all!

I'm back!

2005-12-21T10:58:00.000+08:00

It was a mere 2 weeks break in another country. But it was the longest holiday I've ever taken. Sad really, considering I've had more than 3 decades of living on this planet and the longest vacation I've ever taken is a 14 day hiatus from work and housework. There is definitely something wrong with the Singaporean work ethic. It's all the more disconcerting when you meet fellow travellers from other countries who are in the second month of their holiday. Granted, many of them are pensioners and possibly, jobless backpackers, but still, how many Singaporeans have you met who take leisurely 2 to 3 month vacation and not worry about the impact to their career?

Anyway, I digress. This is what I had hoped would describe me in another place, another time :

But of course, I was too chicken to live up to its calling. I wonder if other people have ever wanted to do something similar when they are overseas. Throw caution to the wind, and with wild abandonment, just do something crazy, or even illegal, for once. (Littering doesn't count, which we all do in Malaysia I'm sure.)

I was tempted to get my tattoo while on foreign soil. But the exchange rate and time didn't favour me (ok, excuses. My guts haven't risen to the heights I have hoped they would). So Far East Plaza will do, when I have mustered up my courage.

For now, it's great to be back. And to be greeted by the auditors' report on NKF. What a great scandal to accompany your morning coffee. Wish they'd stop flooding the pages with Durai's photos though. Makes me wanna puke. I digress again. Like I was saying, it's great to be back and I'm looking forward to my Yakun kaya toast this afternoon. Marvelicious.

In praise of neighbourhood schools

2005-12-05T10:31:00.000+08:00

Finally, someone's spoken in favour of neighbourhood schools. I'm referring to Dr Lee Wei Ling's forum letter in the Straits Times today. That it came from none other than Dr Lee is something worth noticing. You would think, being the daughter of LKY, that she would speak in glowing terms of the elite schools that she must have come from, especially since her parents are firm believers of eugenics. Ah, but Dr Lee is wont to surprise you at times with her straight talk, oftentimes against the popular grain.

Will bright students who choose to be schooled in neighbourhood schools really
"have (their) feet kept firmly on the ground by mixing and studying with students who are not all academic high-flyers"? Why not? Many of us who studied in prestigious schools in the 70s and 80s remember a time when such schools admit students from all walks of life. In my secondary school, daughters of hawkers and taxi-drivers rubbed shoulders with kids who were chauffeur- driven to school. Sadly, such diversity of economic background is less prevalent in the elite schools now.

Many of the top schools in Singapore now charge exorbitant school fees. While they claim that no child will be deprived of a place in their school because of financial constraint, I really wonder if parents from a 2-room HDB flat will really feel comfortable sending their child to such a school, knowing that in all likelihood, the child will stick out like a sore thumb, because he will most probably be the only one without a computer at home, can't afford overseas study trips, can't discuss national issues at length because he doesn't have newspapers at home. These, by the way, are not isolated, exceptional cases, for I see quite a number of such students in the neighbourhood school that I teach.

Yes, an academically bright student will excel in any school. But he will also miss out on the opportunities that are in greater abundance in the elite schools. I read about RI's $36m upgrading program with much envy because I know such a generous budget will never be available to my school, or possibly to other neighbourhood schools. Is it any wonder then that people think it is a waste if Hamizah Nordin did not aim higher?

Yet, I want to root for Hamizah in her simple desire to study in a neighbourhood school. I want to her to shine there. Because for too long, the neighbourhood schools have been left to scrape from the bottom of the barrel. I wish for more Hamizahs, not only because she will be an excellent model for other students, but also because I want our future leaders to hail from a more modest educational background. People who can feel the heartbeat of normal heartlander kids, who don't have wireless internet connections, tablet PCs, cable TV and exotic holidays. And know what it's like to have to work during the school holidays so that they can pay their school fees for the next year. Give me more Hamizahs anytime and we'll see the neighbourhood schools take off.

The children of Hamlin

2005-12-01T12:03:00.000+08:00

So we get another revelation of the strange goings-on inside NKF during Durai's reign. The thing that makes me speechless with incredulity is this : all those employees of NKF who enjoyed the so-called corporate perks (handphone bill claims of $800, corporate credit cards, travel allowances...etc etc) -- did it not occur to any of them that these are very odd practices in a charitable organization?

It is a no-brainer. Only a company that is doing well financially can be so generous with staff perks and entitlements. And if you're the sort of organization that asks the public for money, you can't be dishing out the begging bowl with one hand and throwing credit cards to your staff with the other, can you? All those staff who readily accepted and used the company perks, did any one question the management? Maybe they did and were met with a stone wall. But surely there should be a big enough group of socially responsible employees who see this anomaly and raise a stink? Why does it take the press and KPMG to dig up such rubbish?

I had rubbed shoulders with NKF for a short while in my previous job. And it didn't take me long to feel a sense of unease. In fact, I had stopped donating to NKF after one visit to its spanking office. You can't feel comfortable there with its opulence. The lobby and the toilets look like that of a 5-star hotel! And while waiting to be shown to the meeting room, I got served cakes from Mandarin Hotel and fine tea from a menu that rivalled Coffee Beans'. I've never had such treatment when I had meetings in the offices of MNCs before. Something else niggled me -- the staff who worked for Durai seemed to luxuriate in such lavishness. They gushed about the excellent working environment they had, never realising that I was beginning to squirm in my seat because I couldn't reconcile many things in my head already. The inconsistency was mind-boggling. I didn't get it then and I still don't get it now. How some of the staff in NKF could just flow along, without batting an eyelid.

Maybe when you work under the wings of a man who's larger than life, you can't see clearly what's real and what's simply an illusion. Like the children of Hamlin, you just follow the Pied Piper, whose tunes you got so hypnotised with, you no longer question anything. Until destruction strikes, and all is laid bare for the innocent to gawk at.

Between fame and obscurity

2005-11-30T10:06:00.000+08:00

I had written previously about my gnawing sense of restlessness, the feeling that there should be something more that should be happening in my life, beyond the mundane cycle of work and family. Well, it's still there. The anticipation and at times, impatience at the lack of earth-shattering, ground-shaking moments in my life.

Why is this important to me? This need to rock the world, make a noise and change some lives?

I want to be

famous

so I can be

humble

about being

famous.

What good is my

humility

when I am

stuck

in this

obscurity?

(David Budbill)

Yes, indeed. What good is it? To be a run-of-the-mill, garden variety teacher, parent, wife, friend, citizen? There are millions of them around.

I want my voice to be heard, my actions to matter, to make ripples, to rattle cages.

I want to be a kick-ass teacher, not the type that wins MOE awards, but the type that invokes fascination and anticipation when I walk into the classroom. The type that springs surprises, disturbs your conscience, invades your thoughts. I want to be the voice that students hear in their heads in moments of crisis when they suddenly recall, "My teacher once said that...."

I want to be the mother who teaches her girl how to be a real woman. Not the type who submits to her lot in life, but the type who fights against all forms of oppression against women, overt or subtle, and makes a statement by living out her manifesto in her life. The type who breaks glass ceiling, drinks beer with the guys, and then comes home to read stories to her little ones.

I want to be the wife who still has a life after marriage. Who is not a pale shadow of what she used to be when she was single. Whose circle of friends expand after marriage and whose life takes on more exciting dimensions as she embraces spouse-hood, mother-hood and career. I want to be the wife who lets her husband be these as well.

In wanting and doing all these, I may not be famous in the conventional sense of the word. But I hope I will not be languishing in obscurity, in a sad little life that doesn't matter to any one. At my funeral, may it be said that I was one who chased after fame, and in the continuum between fame and obscurity, I was closer to being famous.

The Art of "Looning"

2005-11-25T09:28:00.000+08:00

"You must be like me," sms-ed my brother. "You must learn how to 'loon'."

He's referring, of course, to my 100th comment on the Thing that I saw at Sitec, which I have (yet) to buy, but which is bombarding my mind like agitated atoms.

'Looning' refers to the supreme ability to endure, tahan, forbear something that you would like to do or say but for which you decide not to do so, for reasons of sanity, morality or expediency.

My brother is very good at this. He can beo something for 6 months and still not buy it, having looned all this while. I think it is an innate ability in men. Women have been known to kill for lesser things.

So, I'm taking his sagely advice. I'm practising the art of looning. I see smoke coming out of my ears already and my hands are quivering as I type this but I shall persevere.

If only my husband can get It for me for Christmas.
If only I dare to tell him.
Then I can stop this looning business.

The women don't get it

2005-11-25T00:42:00.000+08:00

...that I look forward to Sitec (and its related kin Comex..etc) the way many women dream about the Mango sale.

So when it opens today, I make sure I'm armed with a shopping list, good walking shoes and a wallet stuffed with cash (to *ahem* manage my purchases) and an emergency supply of credit cards (you know, just in case). And I attempt my 2005 pilgrimage with a like-minded gadget-freak, SFC, cos it's no fun drooling over some new toy alone. I get strange looks from the men.

Now this is what irks me about this year's show:
1) The scantily clad promoters from Samsung (? I can't remember since they wear so little clothing you can't really detect any company logo anywhere). Must the exhibitors stoop so low?

2) How every freaking promoter wants to sell me an ipod! Do you want to sign up for this? You'll get an ipod for free! Do you want these cool speakers? It's made for your ipod! Next year, I will wear a T-shirt that says "I DO NOT WANT TO GET AN IPOD SO LEAVE ME ALONE!" to the show.

3) That I got this free gift when I bought a Kingston SD card :

Do you know what on earth this is?

It is a "Breath Alcohol Tester", batteries not included. Now that's as useful to me as an electric shaver. SFC says I probably look like a good drinker to the sales lady. Very funny. It's so funny I want to nominate them for the most original piece of junk given out in Sitec.

Irritations aside, I did come back with some purchases. And there are some items that are currently haunting my mind. I had restrained myself from taking them home so now I suffer the mental torture of having voices in my head, urging me to "buy! buy! buy!". Lets hope my will is strong for the next 3 days and I won 't crumble and make a pathetic return to the Expo hall to taste the forbidden fruits. My husband will kill me!

When will the grieving stop?

2005-11-23T01:56:00.000+08:00

It's funny how certain events happen in short intervals of time, conspiring against you, waiting to open up old wounds that you thought had healed long ago.

I found myself promising to pass to a colleague baby clothes that used to be worn by my girl L. He was going to have a baby girl next month. And I had stashed away in a big box, all the lovely girl's clothes that I had kept, not daring to throw any away. They lay in wait, for Trisha, for the baby that was never born. Deciding which ones to give away was painful. You keep thinking, but what if I had another one?

Then my brother sms-ed to say he's expecting #2. I was truly happy for him and his wife. They make great parents and a new life is always a miracle to be celebrated over. Except I also jealously thought, will I ever have a #2?

Coming back from Fraser's Hill on the coach, I was reading Tony Parsons' The Family Way, and I almost regretted picking up the book from the library. For he writes about love, marriage and parenthood in all their heartbreaking agony.

"...there was a real baby inside me, and now it's gone and this is what they don't understand when they talk about having another baby and how you ought to snap out of it and not take it so hard -- I'll never have that baby again. That baby's gone. They don't understand that. The doctors, the nurses. They think you're crying for yourself. They don't understand that you're crying for the baby who will never be born. For that baby."

Tony Parsons, The Family Way

And while the coach zipped along some unknown highway of Malaysia, I found myself weeping for Trisha, the baby that was "incompatible with life" as the doctors called her, the girl that would never be born.

A colleague had asked me 2 months ago if I was ok already. I had nodded emphatically. After all, it's been more than a year since the terrible loss. I had gone through my daily activities with a vengeance, played tennis like there was no tomorrow, started a blog, and planned long family holidays. But deep down, I know I am still disappointed. Disappointed that God's promise of blessing me with 2 kids has somehow disappeared with the wind. I am not angry with Him. Just confused. And lost at times.

But most of all, I'm wondering, When will the grieving stop?

When will I be able to hold a baby in my arms, and not feel that familiar pang of having something precious snatched from you?

"When you have done it once (ie. have a baby)....you must relax. You must believe the bad things all happen to other families. And then your world falls apart. And then it happens to you."

"I did it my way."

2005-11-16T21:11:00.000+08:00

When Mummy is so cheapo and refuses to buy those fancy Halloween fairy costumes that cost "a bomb" according to her, what can a kid do but fashion a DIY pair of fairy wings with paper, glue, tinsel and string? Now who wants me to grant you 3 wishes?

Friends for keeps

2005-11-16T20:40:00.000+08:00

"Can I swim at your place today?" I asked.

"Sure," was all he said.

So I got a spare key to his bachelor pad after school today. And I spent 2 glorious hours soaking in the pool, letting the water wash away all the pent-up anger from yesterday.

The beautiful thing about it was -- he didn't ask me why I needed to swim at his place at such short notice. There was no need to explain anything. He didn't even know what kind of emotional state I was in today and it wasn't because he didn't care or was too busy.

The truth is -- there's no need to ask too much between friends. When you have friends whom you're so comfortable with, you really don't need to give reasons for doing certain things. You just accept each other and give each other space to do his/her own thing. And even though he was having guests over for dinner and I promised to leave his place before dinner so that he wouldn't have to explain to his friends what a (married) woman was doing at his place, he dismissed my suggestion like I had just said something really silly.

Why can't we have more friends like that? Of both sexes? And when you do find such people, you want to have them for keeps, regardless of whether you're single, married, divorced, young or old. I thank God for friends like TK, L, KY and Germs - folks for whom I do not need to pretend to be anything else than myself. The fact that they are guys make it even more unconventional for a married woman I guess. But hey, I can be so lucky, ya?

7 already

2005-11-14T14:50:00.000+08:00

Today L turns 7 years old. She doesn't look it though, her height being at the 10th-percentile based on her last health check. And she's at this age when you're not sure whether to treat her as a baby or a little grown-up.

Some things that tell me she's still a baby:
- Her recent insistence that I sleep with her, on the mattress on the floor. So the last 2 nights, we cuddled up on her single mattress, arms around each other, and drifted off to sleep, leaving poor Daddy alone on the queen-sized bed.
- She wants to hold my hand while we sleep, a secret ritual I started long time ago, which she still has not outgrown. If I ever as turn over in my bed and let go of her hand, she'll chide, "Oi, you don't want to hold my hand ah?"

Other things that tell me she's quite a grown-up already:
- Her instructions to my brother to get her a purple waist pouch for her birthday which can be found in OG, Albert Street branch (although both her parents cannot remember where we last saw it).
- Her wanting to try my lipstick, powder and blusher whenever we go out. I do not allow it, but her aunt has gotten her a baby compact powder and lip gloss for her birthday so I guess the days of preening in front of the mirror are here to stay.
- Her eagernessness to do the things that I do, ie. tennis, swimming, cycling, table-tennis, guitar-playing, sweeping the floor, folding laundry. She's in a mighty hurry to do adult things I would say.

Time whizzes by and it's hard to recall the days before L came into my life. They're in a blurry haze, a time of faded existence when I don't even know how my weekend was spent.

But look at me now - 7 years as the mother of an incredible girl. The experience has been simply life-changing and wonderful for me. How can anything compare to such?

Useless last minute slogging

2005-11-07T20:03:00.000+08:00

The English O level paper is this Wednesday and I see students doing strange things to prepare for this exam. Stuffs like frantic completion of comprehension papers from the 10-year series and shoving to me last minute essays which they want me to mark.

Frankly speaking, at this point of time, will doing one more comprehension paper bring you closer to securing an A for English? Or writing one more essay and seeing a grade from your teacher 2 days before D-day? When will they ever get it that English is a subject that needs constant investment over years and no last minute slogging will save the day?

So if they don't want to read the newspapers everyday, read only 2 books a year, speak Mandarin in English class, then be prepared to face the consequences. No amount of 10-year series devotion will do the magic they're hoping for.

Actually the best thing to do before the English paper is to read some good literature so that your mind is filled with plentiful ideas, inspirations and beautiful words and expressions. Input is more crucial as that will determine what kind of output you can give on Wednesday.

I stare at the last minute essays my students have given me and I feel like ditching them in the longkang. Puh-lease. Spare me the unnecessary work. If you haven't been doing the right thing all these years, you desperately need a miracle now. You don't need me.

Spur of the moment outings

2005-11-07T19:52:00.000+08:00

It's usually the outings that you make at the spur of the moment that turn up nice surprises for you. Today, I :

* bought 3 books of poems at Borders. Why? Because I can and I want to. No particular compelling reason, except I'm in that kind of mood and I want to read poems. They are the first books of poems I have ever owned.

* viewed the Yann Arthus-Bertrand photo exhibition outside Wheelock Place and was totally blown away by the sheer beauty of the photos. It really doesn't matter if you love nature or humanity, or believe in the conservation of Planet Earth. You must go and see this exhibition. I would not say much here cos I really think different people will take away different things from the experience.

Now it's back to work. There's still a long list of things to clear before the school closes. Bah!

Shattered dreams

2005-11-05T08:52:00.000+08:00

"Today he says he loves me. Tomorrow, who knows?"

Joan Chen in "Saving Face"

The line stays hauntingly in my mind, long after the movie is over and we're back in our respective homes. Perhaps I've chosen the wrong movie to watch. But I didn't know.

Didn't know that your dream of happily ever after is shattered and that now you are in limbo. How could I have been so blind to your suffering? For one whole year! All those stupid tactless questions I've asked you, about your husband and holiday plans etc etc. I really deserve to be banished from the face of this earth.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

When sacred vows are broken and a woman spends her days wondering about the "What if" and "How come", you can't help but ask yourself if marriage is really all that great after all. Can a union between two imperfect people result in everlasting bliss? Are we kidding ourselves too much?

I revel in love stories, both in films and in books, because they present me a world that is sadly missing in real life. But when you look at real married people and the truth of marital strife, stress, infidelity and incompatibility stares at you in the face, you discover that sometimes you've got more than what you bargain for when you decide to say "I do".

I shouldn't be that cynical about marriage. But seeing a friend's marriage in the rocks puts me in that kind of mood.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *
To my friend: I pray you'll find the strength to pick yourself up again and that God will continue to be that stronghold that you turn to. Even as Solomon says, "There is nothing new under the sun", and marriages break and people's hearts grow cold, my prayer is that you will find a new beginning somewhere over the horizon. Take care.

My favourite pastime

2005-11-03T11:43:00.000+08:00

is to spend it with you, watching the sunset, talking about anything under the sky. As you chatter, and probe, and muse over the smallest and biggest thing in your world, I watch and listen, intrigued, spellbound and eternally grateful. It's like entering a magical world where everything is full of wonder, waiting to be discovered. It's in being invited to your world, that I can make my own bungling rise to true humility and altruistic motherhood.

In 11 days you'll be 7. Thanks for the countless good times and here's to many gazillion more splendid days.

Am I happier if...

2005-11-03T10:29:00.000+08:00

I have been mulling over the interesting discussion on happiness in Mr Wang's post "Money & Happiness" when my girl uncannily asked me some deep philosophical (to me, at least) questions about my state of happiness last night.

We had a splendid day cycling with Daddy at East Coast Park on Deepavali. With the wind whipping our faces, hot sun beating on our backs (I got the sunblock this time, Mr Wang :) ) and our feet furiously pedalling past the throng of bladers and wobbly cyclists, we reached the Bedok jetty and L was absolutely fascinated with the sight of fishermen, board sailers and kayakers.

The next day, she made me a 4-page booklet titled "to: Mommy". On page 3, she had written in bold eletric blue lettering "Today is a happy day. We can go to the beach to cycle." It's no A-quality essay for sure. But it speaks volumes about how an afternoon spent with Daddy and Mummy is so precious to a child.

Then came the first question. "Mummy, are you happy that I made this card for you?" It's moments like this that your heart expands and you know, deep deep down in your heart, that the greatest thing that's ever happened in your life is to be a mother.

Later, as we got ready for bed, she clambered next to me and asked, "Mummy, are you happy if I sleep in the bunk bed in my own room?" (L prefers sleeping on a mattress on the floor in my room. She told me she'll be more ready to sleep on her own when she's 9.)

"Yes, I'll be happy." I replied.

"Are you happy if I sleep with you?"

"Yes, I'll be happy too."

"Are you happier if I sleep in my room or if I sleep with you?"

Am I happier if....? This 7-year old is trying to figure out what would make me a happier person. I was speechless for a while as I tried to give her a reply that would reassure her I am happy with whatever decision she has made because I don't want to force her into doing something she's not ready for. But she wants to know which of her decisions would make me happier. Tough tough.

* * * * * *

There are many things in life that make me wonder if I would be happier if they had turned out differently.

*Am I happier if....
I had taken up teaching when I was younger?
I had married someone else?
I had stayed single?
I did not leave the church for a while to find myself?
I had not sought counselling from a church pastor which turned out so disastrously?

(* Phrased this way the question is grammatically incorrect but I like to keep the question in its original form, the way my girl would have asked it.)

When you've hit middle-age and gone through the whole gamut of experiences that singlehood, marriage and parenthood have to offer, you realise the futility of asking questions like that. You would never know if you would be happier in different circumstances. You simply learn to take whatever life throws at you and make the best of it.

So L, I don't really know what will make me happier. That's a really really tough question that only a thinker like you would ask. Well done.

It's SIM-ple

2005-10-30T09:34:00.000+08:00

So the Nano can't even stay in your pocket without getting scratches. Heh heh heh....

Did I tell you my Zen Micro has survived a walk in the monsoon rain? And I've recently brought it jogging with me and I enjoyed ZERO incidence of skipping?

Now the Nano people need to get rubber skins for their equipment. That's like wearing condoms. And any man will tell you it's tak shiok.

I used to be seduced by the Nano. Now I know that's just a misguided foolish infatuation. My true love awaits me at home, in all its naked glory, no rubber skin, no need for protection!

Take a bow, Mr Sim.

My scorecard: Sim: 1, Jobs: 0

From the mouths of babes

2005-10-29T16:57:00.000+08:00

The day of reckoning finally came. My girl's P1 exam results : English 85, Maths 61, Chinese 53. She thrusted the papers for me to sign, silent and glum. I tried to make encouraging noises, but part of me was castigating myself for being a less than engaged mother, and for doing so little to help her in her studies. Yes, I am as responsible for her mediocre (some parents may say abysmal) results as she is.

************************************************************************
Today we went swimming. It was a sacred time of bonding for us. There is something very intimate about swimming with your child – skin touching skin, she clinging to me, I holding her gingerly, wiping droplets of water from her face, pressing her close to my chest at times, and looking at her, wondering how an imperfect person like me can produce such a living wonder. During our periods of rest, we cuddle, play and talk. And today, we had these exchanges at the pool:

L (my girl) : Mummy, how does the sun change into a moon?
Me : The sun doesn't change into a moon. They're two different things.
L : Then how does the sun and the moon come up?
Me : Well...(I gave a clumsy explanation of the earth's revolution around the sun and the moon's around the earth.)
L : So we are on earth. Then what about Australia, Japan, USA, Malaysia?
Me : They are places on earth.
L : If the earth moves, then how come I can't feel it?
Me : It moves very slowly. Otherwise we would be falling all over the place.

* * * *
L : Who made the earth?
Me : God made it.
L : How many earth did he make?
Me : He made one earth for us to live in.
L : Why? Why didn't he make many many earths?

* * * *
L : Mummy, how come we can speak English, Chinese, Malay, Indian?
Me : Well...(again, a simplified version of the Tower of Babel story.)
L : So God made the words we speak?
Me : I think so.
L : How come he can make the words sound so beautiful?
Me : Huh? What do you mean? Which words are beautiful?
L : Like ‘love’. How come he can make it sound so nice?

* * * *
L : Mummy, how did animals come out?
Me : You mean, how did animals come about?
L : Ya la. Long long time ago, there are no animals. So how did they come out?
Me : I think God made them.
L : How? How did God make them?
Me : Gee, I don't know. You'll have to ask him next time.
L : OK, I have a difficult question. How did God come out?
Me : Wow! I don't have the answer.
L : So is this a good question?
Me : You bet it is. It's a very good question. And I'm so glad you ask me so many questions. Smart people ask a lot of questions.
L : But I'm not smart.
Me : Yes you are! Because you ask so many difficult questions. You know what happens when you don't ask questions?
L : You become stupid.
Me : Exactly! So you should ask as many questions as you can. Then you'll be smart.

* * * *
L : Mummy, how come you can swim so fast and I'm so slow?
Me : Because I'm taller and bigger than you, so I can swim faster.
(a while later)
L : Is that man there a lifeguard?
Me : Yes he is.
L : How come he's so short?
Me : What's wrong with a short lifeguard?
L : If he's short, he can't swim fast. You said tall people swim faster. You need tall lifeguards.
***********************************************************************

We came out of the pool, all wrinkly and sun-burnt. But I felt light-hearted and somewhat vindicated. Perhaps God is telling me that I may not have raised a child who has all the right answers in the exam, but I sure have got a child who asks many good questions. I watched my little Newton with the gigantic arm-floats trot to the changing room and I swore I could almost see a squillion thought bubbles popping out of her wet little head. And my heart swelled with pride.

Health Matters

2005-10-26T22:02:00.000+08:00

Seems like lately I'm hit left, right and centre with matters relating to health. Lets start with the most inane one of all.

* Health Education Exam *
Yes, that's what my daughter is having tomorrow. A Health Education exam in primary 1. How insane is that? What exactly can they test her on? I don't even know what's in the syllabus. Never thought of looking through her textbook (yes, I can be a terrible mum at times) cos it's such a lame subject if you ask me. So, I played tennis in the evening and let her stay over at her granny's. Yes, I'm a really negligent, irresponsible mother when it comes to my child's exam. Especially when it's for some *&%$# subject like Health Education.

* Travel Declaration *
We've just issued travel decraration forms to our students. MOE needs to know where and when students and teaching staff are travelling to in the Dec hols. I know I'm not supposed to sow panic among my students. But this is so reminiscent of the SARS crisis that I feel an odd sense of unease. Are we really going to have a bird flu pandemic?

* Weight problem *
OK, I don't really have a weight problem. If you believe numbers like your BMI and those weight-height charts you see in your doctor's office. Then why is it that I can't fit into M-sized clothes and the only pair of jeans I can wear in Samuel & Kevin is the largest ones they have? So, I conclude, I have a weight issue. To be more specific, I have a hip issue. My hips are no longer hip. They look maternal, which is what you would expect if you've given birth before (unless you are Zoe Tay). And because Forever Young is now my national anthem, I must must must get rid of those child-bearing hips. By Jan 2006.
So God help me.

OK, enough health matters for the day. Now I need my beauty sleep.

Did it, finally.

2005-10-25T20:14:00.000+08:00

After writing the last blog entry, I packed up and started my long walk home. The weather was cool and accompanied by my music, I trudged home, absorbed in my thoughts.

Then the clouds gathered and I suddenly wondered if I would continue walking if it started to rain. (I don't believe in carrying umbrellas so I've found myself in many such situations when I get stuck in the rain.) As if on cue, the rain came. I was at the overhead bridge, and I just stood and watched the world go by beneath me. People scurrying for shelter, cyclists taking refuge under the bridge. The strong winds sent the rain pelting across my face and there was nothing I could do to stay away from its fury. Still, the sheer magic of the moment, the rain lashing against my cheeks, the howling wind, captivated me.

Then I saw 3 boys from my school cycling furiously along the bridge towards me, totally drenched. But they were laughing away. They waved at me, gave me a cheery greeting, and then seemingly oblivious to the weather, sped off down the slope, throwing care to the wind. I could hear their excited screams as they emerged from the shelter of the bridge and rushed headlong into the showers.

And, like a surreal moment from an old movie, my MP3 played "Forever Young" just at that instant and I was seized by an overpowering sense of liberation. The wound-up spring inside me erupted, and I walked, down the bridge and into my baptism of water.

Let us die young or let us live forever
We don't have the power but we never say never
Sitting in a sandpit, life is a short trip
The music's for the sad men
.......
Some are like water, some are like the heat
Some are a melody and some are the beat
Sooner or later they all will be gone
Why don't they stay young

It's so hard to get old without a cause
I don't want to perish like a fading horse
Youth is like diamonds in the sun
And diamonds are forever

So many adventures couldn't happen today
So many songs we forgot to play
So many dreams are swinging out of the blue
We let them come true

Forever young, I want to be forever young.
Do you really want to live forever, forever and ever?

I did it, finally. Got totally, gloriously soaked in the rain. Have always wanted to do it but never did. Today, with the heart-aching song of Alphaville in my ears, I took one baby step towards self-discovery. And it felt really good.

Possessed & perplexed

2005-10-25T16:29:00.000+08:00

Something’s come over me lately. I can’t put a finger on it. I’ve been feeling restless, edgy and unsettled. Like I’m going to burst. I watched Joan of Arc on cable on Sat, and then read the interview with Philip Yeo on Sunday Times, and there’s something about the passion of Joan that touched a raw nerve, her tenacity of not letting go of what she believed in, in the face of ridicule from men and the establishment. Then Philip Yeo’s rant about how he cannot ever stop what he’s doing or he’ll get bored to death struck a chord in me as well.

I thought : maybe I’m getting singularly bored. Maybe the reason I’m feeling restless is because my life has become too predictable. I want to do something GREAT but I’m not at the moment. (Whitney Houston's One Moment in Time spells my exact current sentiment perhaps.) Hence I am bursting with boredom and sickened with a sense of malaise gnawing inside me.

Consequently, I’ve been punishing myself relentlessly. I take long walks almost everyday: 3km minimum from school to home. Then I walk some more. School ends early now and I push myself to walk further and further. A few times I found myself in town, after having walked for 1 hour or more.

The last time this restlessness and sense of dissatisfaction with my life assaulted me, I left the corporate world and took up teaching. I wonder if my current state of disquiet portends another major decision in my life? Am I not already done with mid-life crisis?

I tell God: don't let me go, please. I'm tottering on the precipice now and I don't know which way I'll fall. I don't know why I'm there in the first place. But surely You must be watching me all this while?

What exactly is eating me up?

How normal are teachers?

2005-10-22T16:35:00.000+08:00

I am tickled by what student blogger Susilo commented in my previous post. He had stumbled upon my blog and was surprised that 1) teachers blog, 2) "teachers were really normal people with normal outlooks behind that teacherly exterior". It really got me thinking about whether teachers are really that normal, as Susilo seemed to think.

Again, I felt I could make a resonable comparison, seeing as I once had previous lives working in the corporate sector. And, I have discovered that since entering teaching, I am not quite able to pursue some of the 'normal' things I could (wantonly) indulge in, in my less-hallowed jobs. Such as:

- swearing in the office. No 4-letter words, Hokkien expletives or obscene hand gestures in the staff room. Sometimes, in a moment of exasperation, the inevitable f--- came out, and I caught myself looking hurriedly 360 degree around me, to see if I got disapproving stares from my colleagues. I've since learnt to swear under my breath for my own good. Students and colleagues alike expect teachers to speak polite language all the time, a feat that is not possible for me. Leopards very hard to change spots right? So I admit defeat in this area.

- breaking rules. I love to break rules once in a while. Like using company time to instant-message friends, taking 2 hour lunch break, sneaking off early to shop...etc. In the school though, breaking rules is something only students do. Not teachers. However, there is nothing like being in a place driven by rules to draw out the rebellious child in me. For instance, I've never ever had to worry about what I can or cannot wear to work in all my previous jobs. Then, I discovered MOE has a dress code for teachers. And the code looks like it's been drawn up in the 70's and cast in tablets of doubly-fortified stone. Makes me want to rebel right away! Seriously. Right now, I feel like getting a tattoo on a *prominent* place. And to dye my hair brown. But I can't. Can't just follow my natural desires because I am a teacher. Tattoos and coloured hair don't impede my ability to teach in any way. But I can't do them because they would 'send the wrong signal to the kids'. So I am a closet rebel. Sigh.....how normal is this??

- pursuing 'dubious' activities. Like mahjong, for example. Once a colleague asked me, in hushed tones, whether I played mahjong. I said yes, I am marathon mahjong queen! And we wanted to have a session after school. But we can't simply scream in the staff room "Anyone wants to play mahjong at my place today?" Again I felt that I couldn't be myself. Teachers don't play mahjong, or buy 4-D, go pubbing or smoke, it seems. Something about inculcating the right moral values to our younger ones. Hence, if you are one of the rare few who engage in such dubious affairs, you kinda keep quiet about it, in case you 'send the wrong signal' again.

So you see, it's quite hard to be normal when you are a teacher. People put you on a pedestal, and many seemingly normal activities are taboo for teachers. So Susilo, perhaps it is only in teachers' blogs that you get the real confessions of teachers who are bitchy, frustrated, angry, and ...normal. So enjoy what you discover in cyberspace; for in schools, we are not normal. At least not for me.

Why I don't get the Abstinence message

2005-10-20T16:49:00.000+08:00

As the powerpoint slides with messages like “purity is beauty”, “the benefits of abstinence” flashed across my eyes, I shifted in my chair uncomfortably. I looked at my students and wondered what they were feeling – boredom, apathy, incredulity?

How do you put into words your feeling that there is something that Focus On the Family does that is jarring to the ears, that is too preachy, too much gloss over a subject that is fraught with controversy and the uncertainties of decisions one makes in life?

Never mind that Focus on the Family (FOF) is a Christian setup, and that I am a Christian, there is something about getting 15 year olds to sign pledge cards of virginity that smacks of subtle adult manipulation and emotional trickery.

Don’t get me wrong. I believe in sex after marriage and the value of abstinence. But I won’t go so far as to say, as FOF does, that one should abstain from sex before marriage because –

1) you may get STD
2) you don’t want to have scars in your life
3) you should keep yourself pure for the one you love
4) (for girls) it makes it meaningless for you to wear white on your wedding

The reason which teenagers should seriously think about, is, I feel : the girl may get pregnant and you don’t want to ruin your future by being saddled with a responsibility you are not ready to take on at 15 years old. As a teenager and even as a single adult, I remember this was the scariest thing that I didn’t want happen to me. And it was a sufficient deterrent for me. I knew there was no such thing as 100% safe sex and I wasn’t going to play roulette with my future by considering contraception. So abstinence makes good sense.

But, to say, as 3) above that you should keep yourself pure for the one you love – that raises many questionable assumptions that FOF has. Firstly, that one is pure only if one is a virgin. Never mind if you watch porno, or have dark and weird fantasies, or exploit women/men in thought or deed. Purity is a condition of the heart and can’t be measured simply by the presence or lack of sexual experience. So, I keep myself pure for the man I love by opening my heart and life and soul before him, and being willing to offer myself to him, completely. My eyes won’t rove and my heart doesn’t waver, I don’t compare and I don’t judge. That is as pure a condition as I can offer to my beloved. My sexual history should be irrelevant.

The second erroneous assumption is that, once ‘impure’, always ‘impure’. So even if you made a ‘mistake’, like have pre-marital sex, then you are impure forever. You enter marriage as an impure spouse. This is a thinking that is not rooted in Christianity. Where does the part about redemption and being made clean by Jesus come in? If , say I had sex before marriage, which according to FOF, makes me impure, but subsequently I regretted the act, would not the Christian belief in the complete redemption of Christ makes me pure again since I have asked for forgiveness? Does FOF realize this glaring inconsistency?

Then reason 2) makes me squirm even more in my seat. FOF showed a picture of a beautiful woman. Then cracks started appearing on her face, and the presenter piously went on to say that that is what you would be like if you were sexually adventurous before marriage. You are scarred, for life, and that is a bad thing. You don’t want scars in your life. You want to be as pristine as you can be. Because having scars means you will never be the same person as you were before.

“That is me,” I thought to myself as I saw the picture of the woman with the scars. Yes, I have many scars in my life, things I’m not proud of – heartaches that sapped the joy out of me, betrayal from trusted people, relationship that I was ashamed of, dangerous thoughts that only God knows. I’m full of scars, and sores and blemishes. I’m not thrilled with them, but neither do I feel they make me less of a worthy person in God’s eyes. They're in the past and I have moved on. But if I didn’t have those scars, I would probably be a very sanctimonious, insensitive and judgemental woman now.

My scars make me cry with women who are contemplating abortion, who struggle with forbidden love, who loved and got hurt, who live with alcoholics, who fumble and agonize over all the excruciating circumstances that life throws at us. I can FEEL for them because I have scars.

Often, it is the people who pretend to live a pious, unsullied life who do the most damage. They declare every transgression a serious sin, and are quick to cast stones at the sinner, and holler for government policies to curb this and that behaviour.

Not all that the FOF is saying is misguided, of course. I just wish there is less preaching about abstinence, and more about making responsible choices in one’s life. And also more about how it is possible to spring back to wholesomeness again even if you have done something you regret in life.

I want to do the Subaru Team Challenge with...

2005-10-18T07:25:00.000+08:00

Sim Wong Hoo. Now, think of it. His palm next to mine, the two of us, stuck there, connected by a thin sheet of metal, for more than 24 hours hopefully. This is even better than being stranded on an island with that dream guy, because in the latter, the guy can escape from you and go hide in some corner of the island. But the Subaru Team Challenge, no way. What better captive audience can one ask for? Here's why Mr Sim is my man:

* He's arguably still one of the most eligible bachelors in Singapore. OK, so I'm married. But one can still hypothesize right?

* I want to tell him though he may never create THE ipod killer, he'll forever be a symbol of youthful brashness, never-say-die gungho-ism, and beat-the-Singapore-system entrepreneurship.

* I'll let him listen to the abysmal radio reception in my Zen Micro, and ask him how on earth did he think he could convert ipod's legion of fans with a substandard radio transmitter?

* I'll recommend him to get a kick-ass Marketing honcho for Creative, because ipod is all about marketing, marketing and marketing.

* I'll confess I'm seduced by the Nano, but I'm staying loyal to my Zen Micro for now because in the true spirit of National Education, I support Singaporean products developed by Singaporean brains nurtured by Singaporean teachers (ha ha!).

* I'll persuade him to start Chaotic Thoughts Part 2. I'll personally see if I can then squeeze it into my English Department's compulsory reading list at some point.

* And while doing Chaotic Thoughts Part 2, he may also think about a Dummy's Guide for Entrepreneurship for Poly Grads, which I'll distribute to parents during the annual Meet-the-Parents session, so that parents who think the JC-route is the only path to success can be shut up forever.

And finally, if he's still in a good mood, I'll ask him to get a little image makeover. Nothing fancy, but a nicer haircut perhaps. And apparel from Ashworth instead of 3 Rifles. Apple is all about image. Creative seems to be about engineers. Get the diff?

We are unlikely to win the Subaru Team Challenge, but it'll be the stuff of my fantasies, if I can team up with Sim Wong Hoo...

Who would you like to do the Subaru Team Challenge with?

Teaching vs Private Sector

2005-10-15T12:18:00.000+08:00

A blogger's musing about leaving teaching for a private sector job has made me stop to ruminate over the differences between teaching and working in the 'great big world out there’.

I'm what MOE calls a ‘mid-career teacher'. Actually teaching is not even MID-career for me, if you do the math. I had worked in the private sector for 12 years before I entered the teaching force 3 years ago. I was probably one of the oldest NIE students undergoing teacher training – a dubious honour which I nevertheless reveled in when I gave career advice to those fresh out-of-school trainee teachers. So, teaching is definitely NOT mid-career for me, more like a 'sunset'-career, or ‘finding-yourself-career'. I had tasted what life in the corporate sector was like, and I wanted out, to fulfill a career ambition that had nothing to do with fame, fortune or position, but had everything to do with intangibles like sharing your life with others. It was a bold (my husband thought it foolhardy at the time) gamble.

So having dabbled in the private sector and now teaching, I feel somewhat qualified to make some comparisons between working in an environment where "talented people are truly appreciated” (as two057 has said) and a civil service monolith where hierarchies and SOPs are worshipped to death. My experience in the private sector covered mostly foreign MNCs, except for a brief but painful stint in a local dotcom. Now, here's my report card:

* Salary *
Obviously, I got paid heaps more money not working for MOE. In fact, I took a 65% pay cut when I decided to teach. Of course, this was because I had been working in the private sector (PS) for 12 years, and there was no way MOE was going to match my PS pay for a new teacher. I understood that of course. Now, current teachers thinking of hopping over to ‘greener’ pastures should do their sums carefully. Starting pay for new teachers is actually pretty attractive, especially for males. So starting anew in the PS may not automatically guarantee you better pay for a start, but I don't think you'll ever have to suffer the ignominy of having a 65% pay cut like I did. PS promotions and increments are also a lot faster. I got a $1100 jump once (in the 90s to boot!) when I switched jobs. Now that is almost unheard of in the civil service.

* Appraisal *
One thing I really applaud the PS for is their more transparent appraisal system. In one company I worked in, not only does the boss appraise your performance, you get to appriase the boss too. And at the end of the day, both parties have a chance to clarify points of disagreement in the 360-degree appraisal. Talk about an enlightened and mature management! Of course, not all MNCs work this way but you can say, in general, that staff are given more say in their appraisal. In the teaching environment, teachers are ranked by their respective HODs, but have no idea how they are ranked. They are not even told of their performance grades and most of us only get to find out our grades when we check our bank accounts in April to see how much performance bonus we get. I've never understood why a HOD can't just tell his staff he's got a ‘C’ and then explain to him why he deserves that.

* Job stress *
This is the part where I think there is no way you can make a fair comparison. Many teachers compain about the stress in teaching and it is true and very real. But lets face it, there is stress in whichever job you do. I had a lot of stress working in the PS, and the stakes were very high too (lost revenue, lost customers, bad PR for the company, etc). My question is this – you want meaningful stress or meaningless stress? To me, the stress I had in the PS was meaningless to me. So I quit. In teaching, the stress is still, in most parts, meaningful to me. So I stayed. But when you can't see the forest for the trees and things don't seem to make sense to you anymore, I'll say start updating your resume.

* Office politics *
I hate the politicking in the PS! Hate it with a vengeance in fact. The conniving, back-stabbing, one-upmanship, bullying, bitching, boasting, boot-licking – all these are what made my life in the PS miserable, more so than horrid bosses and heavy workload. Which is why I am pleasantly surprised to find that in my school at least, such politicking is so rare it is like a sanctuary from the evils of corporate life. I don't know about the situation in other schools but I dare say that teachers are, on the whole, quite a peaceloving and harmless bunch. There's very little to politick about in schools, really. And those issues that do get politicked are so mundane to me (having hailed from the big ‘bad’ world of the PS) they often provide cheap entertainment for me. In other words, office politics in schools is child's play, masak-masak. No need to lose sleep over.

* Job satisfaction *
Well, that's the BIG question isn't it? If you want to work for money, leave teaching for the students’sake! But if you, like me, are looking for the nebulous holy grail of self-actualization, personal fulfillment, and a deep sense of finally having done something worthwhile in your life, then teaching is one of those careers. My ex-boss, from the MNC with the 360-degree appraisal that I mentioned earlier, commented when he saw me after I had been teaching for 2 years, that I seemed “more self-assured, more confident and happier” than when I had worked for him. I took that as another confirmation of my career choice. Not everyone is suited to be teacher. So you have to ask yourself, what is it that you really want? You may very well feel very fulfilled in a PS job and I'll be more than happy to congratulate you on finding your own space in which to express your full creative self.

So there you have it, my report card on teaching vs the private sector. I don't speak as a seasoned teacher. 5 years from now, my report card may look very different. But does the fact that I've served my 3-year bond (ROD already! Yeeah!) and am NOT thinking of quitting count as some sort of endorsement of my career choice? My husband's not complaining now, I see my daughter more often than I did in my previous job and I get invited to my students' class reunion. These, are enough rewards for me.

Clueless about PSLE

2005-10-13T08:49:00.000+08:00

Hands up those of you who could not do the PSLE Maths question that was later found to be faulty. I stared at the question and after 3 minutes I peeked at the solution given. And should I add that I teach Maths at secondary level? I wonder what this says about my teaching ability. Or is the issue here more about the standards of PSLE?

Parents who have kids in Pri 6 will probably echo my view – that the requirements of the PSLE will drive your kids nuts! I shudder when I think about the frustrations my daughter will go through when her time comes.

I spoke to a few teachers in my school who have seen or are seeing their children through the PSLE. Stories of kids who are very discouraged, unmotivated and vexed abound. And these are kids of teachers, who supposedly have the advantage of parents who are in touch with the syllabus, have reasonable teaching abilities and able to impart study strategies to their progeny. Where does this leave the other kids, whose parents are completely clueless and are now, I presume, wringing their hands in despair at their own helplessness?

Is there really a need to make the PSLE so difficult? Even secondary school teachers admit they are daunted when they see the current primary school Science and Maths syllabi. They feel inadequate to help their children. Secondary school maths actually seems easier in terms of the skills required to do well. Surely there is something not right here?

I have a few bones to pick regarding what we put out kids through in primary school. It starts way before Pri 6 when the PSLE hangs ominously over their heads. When my daughter was asked to attend Chinese remedial lessons at Pri 1, I kicked up a big fuss with the school. Firstly, there should be no necessity for remedial lessons for a 7 year old. It’s inhumane, it’s kiasuism at its ugliest and just plain ridiculous. Even when the school patiently explained to me that the remedial was to help her improve her grasp of hanyu pinyin which is important because in Pri 2, she’ll have to use a Chinese wordprocessing programme in school which requires input in hanyu pinyin, I was not sufficiently convinced.

My peeves are:
– Why teach hanyu pinyin at Pri 1? Especially when many kids are still struggling with English phonics. Why do kids have to master 2 different sets of phonetic systems when they have not gained a strong foundation in even one yet?
- Why must kids use Chinese wordprocessing at Pri 2? Why can’t they do it in upper primary when they have mastered hanyu pinyin? Why this obsession with IT?
- Why can’t kids learn at a more leisurely pace so that they get to enjoy the lesson, bolster their self-esteem and feel more confident about themselves?
- Why the rush to acquire so much knowledge with half-baked understanding at such a young age? Who benefits?

I always tell my students that ‘studying is not everything’. There’s a bigger world out there for them to experience that has got nothing to do with what their L1R5 score is. I tell my daughter that too. That hanyu pinyin is no big deal, that I love her just the same no matter how many stars or stickers she gets from her teachers. I only hope the primary school doesn’t kill what I am desperately trying to instill in her.

A Perfect Day

2005-10-11T20:29:00.000+08:00

So here I am stuck in some teacher training course and the afternoon just seemed never-ending. My daughter is having her first Pri 1 exam today and I can't help wondering if she's doing alright. Here's the product of an afternoon spent not listening to the teacher (!!), but thinking of my girl:

A Perfect Day

Just a perfect day
Dawn's come and you're still in bed;
chest gently heaving,
chasing butterflies in your dream.
I gasp at such tranquility;
innocence to spare, untainted.

Just a perfect day
Being yourself, playtime beckons;
dance when you want,
doodle everywhere;
no one to tell you when to stop.
Free to live, enjoy!

Just a perfect day
Picnic with Spongebob,
play date with Jimmy Neutron,
sharing moments with magical friends,
whispering secrets only you know,
Childhood's best moments, intact.

Just a perfect day
even if it's your first exam.
Tonight we'll re-unite and play Uno.
No need for A's,
Mummy don't care;
You are an A*, any day.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Who craves distinctions?
When we've got a short lifetime
to spend together.
Don't grow up too soon,
don't strive, don't stress, just let go;
Mummy is only a call away.

We'll spin many perfect days together
so you can be a child
while you're still one and
behold each carefree moment.

Class Reunion

2005-10-09T00:52:00.000+08:00

When you're a fairly new teacher and had the chance to be invited to your first class reunion (of the class you had seen graduate under your tutelage), you would leave the place, feeling like a parent who had just seen his child spread his wings to explore new horizons you have not discovered yourself.

Such is the feeling I came home with after attending the class reunion of my first batch of graduates. I was their form teacher from Sec 3 to Sec 5. They took their O levels last year and are now pursuing various courses at the polytechnics, JCs and ITEs. I had them when I was just a fresh NIE grad, and after the first 2 months of sizing me up, they decided I was not such a bad chap after all, and our lives became intertwined in the hurly-burly of secondary school life and o-level preparation.

In fact, they became quite a big part of my life. I trusted them implicitly. They were not academically as fast as the Express students, but there was something very sincere, very real and raw about them. I could be totally myself when I stepped into the class. And so it was that they were the only class I told about my difficult pregnancy last year, the only class who knew my torment as I struggled with the decision whether to abort Trisha and who had gathered to pray for me, the only class whom I gave instructions as to what to do should I have a miscarriage in the middle of lesson. And then later when I was in the hospital, unable to help them prepare for their mid-year exams, they had sms-ed to say not to worry, they'll study hard for me. Can you really let go of a class with whom you had gone through the ups and downs of your first 3 tumultous years of teaching?

At the class reunion yesterday, the mood was joyous, as many of them hadn't met each other for a few months. My heart swelled with pride as they regaled me with stories of their new studies. There are future nurses, JAVA programmers, logistics experts, mass comm practitioners in their midst. I am truly honoured to have played some part in their lives.

At some point in the evening, the mood changed and suddenly I could sense a certain heaviness in the air. I was called to join one of the groups, and then realised my counsel was called for. A boy, his face red from downing 2 cans of Carlsberg, was in anguish. He was deciding whether to reveal his feelings for one of the girls in the group. The other boys in the group were egging him on. Ah, the pain of not knowing. How familiar. I also learnt another had just suffered a breakup with his girlfriend. Now they wanted to hear from me. How did my husband court me? How do you tell someone you like her?

At times like this, I am at a loss for words. I want to tell them to seize the day, to love fiercely and to love with all your heart and soul. And to tell the person you love him/her. For I've walked that path before, and I know the sweetness of finally connecting with someone. But I also know the heartache, and the inevitable trial runs and false starts that many have to go through. All part and parcel of growing up. And as I looked at them, promising young men at the cusp of adulthood, I could sense their intensity and fervour, and I said a silent prayer for them. That no matter what life presents to them in the world of relationships, they'll learn to savour each moment, they'll love and they'll sacrifice and they'll be hurt and then they'll love again. And then, perhaps some day soon, they'll meet that special someone.

So to the class of H51, you were the best, my pride and my joy. I couldn't have made it through my first 3 years of teaching without you. Thanks for the memories. Thanks for making those lovely BBQ stingray for me. Thanks for walking with me, as much as I have tried, albeit clumsily, to walk with, and sometimes, catch up with you.

The sound of my voice

2005-10-07T08:44:00.000+08:00

Last night, I put my O2 Mini to good use. Having discovered that I could leave an audio note (as opposed to a written note) on my device, I ventured forth to record the sound of my own voice.

I don't know about you but I have always wondered how I sound like. What do people hear when I speak, sing, sigh or shout? Do I sound husky, warm, grating, high-pitched, baritone, slurred, sharp? And then, a little self-indulgently, does anyone's heart skip a bit at the sound of my voice? At least to my husband, or daughter perhaps? What emotional reactions do I provoke in my students when I speak? Do they like the sound of my voice?

To be honest, I got carried away. After recording a short piece where I read out a short text, I proceeded to pick up my guitar and belt out, with gusto, complete with passionate feelings, several sentimental pieces. Everyone wants to be a pop singer, is it not so? That I would even succumb to such vainglory is telling. Especially since I'm the sort who pooh-pooh karaoke singers. Maybe I feel deeply insecure about my abilities. Oh well, whatever.

So now, I've got 6 recordings of my *ahem* solo performances. And one of me reading from a book. I'm all ready for any talent scout who may want to uncover my hidden potential and whisk me away from my teaching job.

P.S. I can't quite say I love the sound of my voice. It is...well....weird...listening to yourself.

Please tell me you are OK

2005-10-01T23:05:00.000+08:00

Suddenly I found that I could not sit still, could not mark any scripts. Hell I could not even focus on any one topic, save for the plea in my head, screaming so loud I feel I can burst. Please tell me you are OK. Please tell me you are not at Hard Rock Cafe in Bali this evening, or any of the other 3 venues where the bomb blasts had just occurred.

You did not reply my SMS. I couldn't get you on the phone. And now my heart is palpitating and there's a sick aching feeling in my heart, as I wonder if you are alright, or are you lying injured somewhere in Bali. Are you alone or are you with someone? For the first time in my life, I called the MFA and left behind my contact number, so that I would know if they had any news. I didn't have your IC number, I didn't even know which hotel you are staying at, but I bet I'm the only one in your life who had called the MFA to ask about you.

Your friends are all worried about you. We won't be getting much sleep tonight. Our only recourse now is to pray for you. And hope that you are not at the wrong place at the wrong time, a victim of some asshole's maniacal plot.

God, I wish you are OK. Just call me, or any one of us, and let us know we have not lost you, our dear friend. Life has dealt you a cruel blow many times, surely it'll spare you this most senseless attack. Surely?

Update: 3 Oct
You don't know how relieved I was when I finally got your SMS! Yes, you are safe, and I can just feel a big boulder being lifted off my shoulders. All those tears, frantic SMS-ing, checking CNN.com for updates, fretting and pacing - I have never felt such panic before. Fear, anxiety, yes but panic at the thought of possibly losing a close friend at my age, this is new territory to me. Even my girl couldn't understand what I had become on Saturday, and I didn't know how to answer her question "Mummy, what is happening to you?".

Anyway, thank God you are OK. The experience was nerve-racking, insane but also revealing. I found that I am a worst-scenario kind of girl. In times of crisis, I think of the worst that can happen, and mentally go through a dry run of what I would do should the unthinkable happen. It is not healthy, and it drives me berserk. And the roller coaster of emotions I go through is positively draining. Such a drama queen. It happens with people who are very dear to me. Because I can't imagine going through life without them. I guess it's one way I cope with the vicissitudes of life. I imagine tragedies happening first, so that I can spare myself the numbness and helplessness if it really hits me. But this time, the dry run is simply a figment of my overactive imagination. I really, really thank God for that.

Welcome home TK!

A Few Good Men

2005-09-29T21:05:00.000+08:00

My MP3's playing songs from the 80's and I'm suddenly besieged by memories of those long lost years. A recent exchange of emails with a friend about whether I ever had to live with the uncertainty of wondering if a guy likes me brings back recollections of those soul-seeking, heart-wrenching episodes when I existed in alternate states of being in love, having my heart broken, sleepless nights, waiting. So, to unload the surfeit of emotions, here's a tribute to those good men in my life, who have, to some extent, made me the woman I am today.

* B
My first real love, short-lived though it was. We never got started but it was you who made me cry my heart out in my JC canteen, when I realised we were not to be. You were the first guy who had ever sent me home after school, and I'll always remember those long bus rides, the stimulating conversations, the suspension of time as I wondered "Will you send me home today?" and you read my thoughts and did the sweetest thing possible.

* V
My first boyfriend, my man in uniform. How you took my breath away when I saw you in your smart Navy uniform. I remembered how I rushed to the World Trade Centre bus-stop in the afternoons, after class, to spring surprises on you as you made your way home from Pulau Brani. The anxious looks up the overhead bridge, just to catch the look of surprise and delight from you. You didn't know it then but I had to break the bank to get you a tennis racket for Christmas, not realising that you were going to break up with me 3 days before Christmas. It was the darkest Christmas ever. And after that, while I licked my wounds, you disappeared from my life, not wanting (daring?) to even maintain a civil friendship with me. I hated you then, and had sworn that all men were bastards because of you. But now I only have fond memories of the good times. We bumped into each other once, but the old magic is gone. All I can savour, is a faint shadow of a man in uniform. The memories, tucked away somewhere in the deep recesses of my mind. Vestiges of a first love that was too short, too painful, and too naive.

*E
We were good pals but the stirrings of something more had lingered in me for a while. I have often wondered if you felt the same. I never knew, and never dared to ask, for fear of breaking the fragile thread of friendship we had. Your nature is one of the sweetest I know. But still, like V, you broke my heart. When you told me you've found someone, you dealt a big blow to my childish dreams. I cried. I couldn't believe how blinded I was. But all that's past now. Because you're still here. And I still have a soft spot for you. Perhaps our friendship is far stronger than what we could ever have if we had ventured further.

*A
You are the most unexpected character I ever thought I'll like. So vastly different from me. You treated me more tenderly than any other men I knew. You came at a time when I was bruised, despondent and helpless. And I noticed you because you were the quietest guy in the group. You'll never read this because you're just not interested in the internet. It is amazing, how we end up together. You didn't quite understand how tormented I felt about losing Trisha. You are from Mars, and I'm not. And yet, you're going to grow old with me. You, me and our girl. We, in our little world of domesticity, and primary school streaming, and planning for the next holiday, weaving the stuffs that I'll write about in my blog 20 years down the road.

*********************************************
Names of the men in my life, past and present, are in code, to protect their reputation, because (sigh), I no longer know what exactly is defamatory anymore.
This post is not intended to cast shame on the men who have broken my heart in the past. On the contrary, I am writing about you all because I am getting old, and as any mid-life crisis sufferers will tell you, this is the time you look back fondly on your salad days and laugh over them, and store them in some secret corners of your heart. Because for me, I never forget the few good men who were and are a part of my life.

The Witch Hunt Is On - Part 1

2005-09-28T10:04:00.000+08:00

Someone in the school has zapped a copy of the news article on schools acting against students who flamed teachers on blogs and put it on my table and it is irritating the hell out of me. Not the person who puts it on my table, but the whole issue of the schools coming down hard on the students.

First it's the racist bloggers, now students. You bet the witch hunt has started. Will they move on to teachers and civil servants next I wonder? Last night, I was just wondering if I should remove some of my posts, especially any that might lead some kaypoh executive from MOE who wants to trace who I am and what school I'm from, even though I have not specially named any person in my blog. But read the article - "students can be sued for defamation, even if a teacher is not named." By the same token, I guess teachers can be sued too, for 'defaming' their colleagues, students, bosses etc.

Who's the paranoid one now? Till the storm blows over, I guess the thing now is to lie low, be circumspect and watch what happens next.

I'll be posting Part 2 later, when I've organized my thoughts. But right now, suffice to say I am terribly disturbed by the recent turn of events. I am not pro-student flamers. But neither am I cheering on the teachers who don't even have skin thick enough to take comments like "frustrated old spinster" with equanimity.

Lying vs Bullshitting

2005-09-24T23:45:00.000+08:00

I've wanted to blog on this topic for a while, ever since I read this most enlightening excerpt of a book called Your Call Is Important to Us by Laura Penny. Then when Tym (bless your kind heart!) sympathized with my suffering at the hands of my boss and rightly pointed out that the lies I had written about in my blog were bullshit, it seems an opportune time for me to pen my thoughts on this topic.

According to Laura Penny, "we live in an era of unprecedented bullshit production". "Your call is important to us" is probably the quintessential modern day, consumerist, unabashed bullshit. I can't think of a better title to encapsulate the kind of bullshit we are all subject to in our culture.

A worthwhile distinction has to be made, though, between lying and bullshitting. Penny says the occasional white lies, or the avoidance of truth we engage in (like our comment on our spouse's weight) are actually quite harmless and in effect, may even be useful and essential for normal human relationships. The liar, says Harry Frankfurt, still cares for the truth. The bullshitter, on the other hand, has no such concerns. A lie is a simple, factual thing and is easier to disprove. Bullshit "tricks out a terrible thing in floaty, fulsome rhetoric...and is forever putting the rosiest of spins on rotten political and economic decisions." (Laura Penny) Wow! I can immediately ferret out a sampling of bullshit from today's Straits Times:

Bullshit #1:
URA on why it has decided to end the mobile food van project : "market forces took its course and we realised there's not much demand for such vans, so we will have to let it be."
Truth: Market forces did not have a chance to take its course. Not when URA's restrictions on where and when the food vans can operate simply strangled any chance for the laws of market forces to operate.

Bullshit #2:
Jetstar CEO Ken Ryan, on giving Valuair pilots a $2000 pay cut if they opt to stay: "We aren't forcing people out, we want them to stay."
Truth: Cutting employees' pay by $2000 is not the best way to show your interest in retaining staff, Mr Ryan.

Bullshit #3:
LTA, disputing the claim that the Ez-link system is full of bugs: "Cases of wrong deductions have decreased from 0.27% to 0.006% from last July to July this year." Truth: That means as recently as a year ago, 7,000 wrong deductions (0.27% of 2.6 million transactions daily) had been made everyday. What happens to the money that is not refunded? Who is the fare-cheater now?

And of course, if you would just bother to read the ads, there is a preponderance of bullshit dished out mindlessly to the ubiquitous consumers who don't know any better. In short, we are bombarded with bullshit everyday, from people we know like our employers and bosses, many of whom are flagrant bullshiters who could do it without batting an eyelid, to the impersonal machine we call the government, the institutions and the powers that be.

What can we do against such an onslaught? Well, for a start, one can expose the bullshit for what it is. In this area, I'm grateful for many wonderful blogs that aim to do just that. May the force be with you and may the long arms of the law never reach you to silence you. Next, I believe we can all strive to stop the bullshitting ourselves. By all means, tell a white lie if it's expedient to do so. But cut the hypocrisy, the whitewashing, the self-aggrandizement, and just tell the plain truth.

Who Wants To Look Like A Teacher?

2005-09-24T17:28:00.000+08:00

4 more exam scripts to go and I'm starting to feel good already. Which means I will be going shopping later to reward myself with a Longsuffering Award. Top on my list is a new bag, handbags being my inherent weakness.

And I already know it's not going to be a simple shopping trip. Because, as far as vanity goes, shopping for a bag that can hold stacks of A4 scripts, textbooks and sometimes files, is an arduous process. I will not, cannot, ever, want a bag that distinctly, unequivocally, screams "Teacher!" when I'm seen with it.

Stereotypes are evil and degrading but one can't run away from teacher stereotypes. A colleague told me how insulted she felt when she hopped on a taxi and the cabby instantly said, "Ah, you must be a teacher." And I can sympathize (not empathize, yet, thankfully). Because, very few woman want to be recognizable as a teacher as far as fashion and style goes. Don't believe what the newspapers try to tell you about stylo-mylo teachers because such breeds are few and far between (otherwise we won't have such stereotypes in the first place). Hence, the dead giveaways are :

- Scholl shoes
- Flowery skirts / pants
- Gold jewellery
- anything from OG
- big, black or brown bags bulging with rubber-banded papers
- red pens (hidden of course but a teacher is seldom caught dead without one in her bag)

I remembered an occasion when I was getting a bag for work and the shop assistant, after finding out that I was a teacher, whipped out a bag that she claimed "many teachers like". Wrong answer, lady! Hallo, why would I want a bag that many teachers carry??

Now, the look I'm aiming for (and still experimenting with) is this - understated but not dull, casual but chic, hip but not fashion victim, professional but also nonchalant. One name sprang to mind - my Sociology lecturer Dr Chua Beng Huat at NUS many moons ago. He would come to lectures in cool chinos and oversized shirt and a pair of red espradilles (his trademark). That, and his cute moustache, insouciant aura, acerbic tongue and irreverence towards authority, and I'm bowled over! That's what I call a cool dude. Not your typical straight-laced, law-abiding, sanctimonious, Laura Ashley-type teacher.

It's also good to have a certain trademark. For Dr Chua, mention his red shoes and everyone in campus knows who he is. I have yet to decide on my trademark but I will slowly and surely find my footing in this job, and then my trademark will just evolve.

My simple goal is this, that when I tell a stranger I'm a teacher, he'll go, "Really? Well you certainly don't look it. You're too blase, too brazen to be a teacher." Now that's a real compliment.

Garbage In, Garbage Out

2005-09-07T23:38:00.000+08:00

Just painstakingly ploughed through 70 essays and noticed some interesting but disturbing statistics:
* 1 out of 2 essays contains a violent scene of some sort (stabbing, shooting, slashing)
* 4 out of 5 essays have someone die in it (car accident, stabbing, shooting, slashing)
* 1 out of 4 essays describes a dysfunctional family (divorced parents, criminal family member)
(These results were observed despite students having a choice of 5 titles to choose from. No matter which topic is chosen, these same themes pervade their work.)

So in the 2 days of frenzied marking, I have consumed an overdose of violence, death and despair, all from the seemingly harmless routine of marking essays written by 16-year-olds.

Some questions I would like answered:
1) Is this typical of other schools? Or do I get a surfeit of such morbid themes because my students come from a neighbourhood school? (Maybe some sociologists or other teachers can enlighten me.)

2) Is this typical of teenagers today? Their obsession with violence, death, anarchy and hopelessness? I don't remember having such dark thoughts when I was a teenager. But that could possibly be because I came from a pretty intact family.

3) Are teenagers so lacking in wholesome, positive role models who could inspire them that their idea of self-expression is to pen such destructive dribble?

My own theory is this -- that my students' diet consists primarily of the trash from TV (already known for its obsession with violence and warped families), that the only way they know of to make their essays interesting, is to infuse them with death and destruction. The positive and good become staid and boring (read uncool).

Which is a very sad state of mind to have, especially when you are only 16. When you can't even recognise the good as being healthy for the mind and the soul, and mindlessly devour the garbage that the mass media is feeding you as if these are caviar. I seriously worry for those kids.

"Show Me The Cards!"

2005-09-03T16:13:00.000+08:00

I have enjoyed reading the various comments to my previous musing on Teachers' Day. Tym's admission of chucking useless T Day's gifts struck a familiar chord -- because I had done the same thing last year, until a fellow colleague told me, in a somewhat conspiratorial tone, as if she was passing me some state secrets, that I should keep ALL the cards of appreciation I have ever received in my teaching career. Reason -- you need to document ALL the evidences of your hard labour as a teacher. Purpose -- to build your portfolio as a teacher so that you can advance up the puny ladder of success in this exalted profession.

Being a relatively new teacher still, and having come from the corporate sector where such a suggestion is frankly, hugely laughable, I soon learnt that in order to qualify to be a Senior Teacher at some point in my career, I need to compile a Portfolio to show my superiors what a dedicated teacher I have been. And one of the inane things potential candidates may include in their Portfolio are soppy cards from students (these are the Hard Evidences).

I can't, for the life of me, see how a supposedly intelligent, highly qualified and experienced member of the MOE (who is very often a scholar) tasked to select the best staff for promotion, can judge my competency as a Senior Teacher based on cards that my students gave me. The inherent thinking is thus - the more cards you get, the more fulsome the praise in the cards, the better teacher you are? What about the other possibilities - that the reason I keep those cards in the first place is because a) I feel unloved, b) I hoard things, c) I'm kiasu, d) I need any evidence I can find to remind myself I'm good because I'm pathetically insecure?

I hope my colleague is wrong about this. And that the Folks Up There pay attention to other more important qualities. Still I must confess this whole Portfolio business is such a turn-off I'm quite content to be a normal, non-Senior teacher. Or I'll tell the interviewer next time, if I ever aspire to be a Senior Teacher, that my portfolio has zilch cards from students because I have received SO MANY I have made a fortune by selling them to the karang-guni man. Ha ha ha...

Thoughts on Teachers' Day

2005-08-28T00:38:00.000+08:00

Before I joined the teaching profession 3 years ago, I used to imagine what Teachers' Day would be like. After clocking many years in the private sector, I can't imagine actually having a day dedicated to your profession. As far as I know, there are only 3 professions in Singapore that have their own day of celebration (nurse, secretary and the vague title Boss) and I did not belong to any of these.

3 Teachers' Day later, I approach 1 September with a bit of ambivalence, a bit of hesitation and a large dose of glee at the holiday I'll get. But what about the gifts and cards of appreciation from the students? Frankly speaking, some of the gifts make me downright uncomfortable, simply because they come from students I don't think I have particularly helped. There's something worse than not getting any gift, it is getting something you don't think you deserve.

Then you look around at what the other teachers got. And you are surprised that the dowdy, colourless veteran teacher in the school has her entourage of fans as well. Well, just goes to show you don't need to be hip, IT-savvy or have rebonded hair to be a popular teacher. You also thought you have done so much for a particular class or students, but no show of appreciation came. You feel disappointed, then guilty because you remind yourself you're not supposed to expect anything in return. Teaching is a calling, remember? You chastise yourself silently for being so self-seeking, and try to think of the legions of young people you have touched in class all these years and pat yourself on the back for doing such a worthy but thankless job.

You try to rise above the crassness of Teachers' Day, and try to ignore the irony of seeing students who torment you every other day of the year suddenly telling you you've been a great teacher. You can't help thinking, "Don't bluff la!" Surely some good old fashion decent behaviour in class is worth a ton more than a card on 1 Sep? Why do some students think a whole year of disrespect or rudeness can be whitewashed with a gift from Popular Bookstore?

Still, the cynic in me do get all putty when I see those cards from my students. I still keep some of them, especially the unexpected ones. As evidence that sometimes life presents some nice surprises for you.

So whether you're thinking of quitting, or waiting for TGIF every week, or really honestly feel you are part of a greater plan to mould Singapore's future (I say this with a straight face), just sit back and enjoy those silly songs the kids belt out every year to say how much they adore you. Savour that one day, for 24 hours later they'll be back to normal.

Happy Teachers' Day to all my fellow comrades.

Sex Talk for Malay Students

2005-08-27T15:41:00.000+08:00

An article in today's Straits Times struck a chord in my heart. Titled "Time To Talk Sex in Malay Community?", it pointed out some disturbing statistics crippling the Malay community -- high rates of under-21 marriage, divorce among young Malay couples and teenage abortion. The numbers are not new. We have heard some of these concerns raised by Malay MPs and social workers over the past year. But it wasn't until this week when I did a Sexuality Education discussion with a small group of Sec 1 girls in my school that the reality hit me in the face.

I've been doing this kind of small group discussion for more than a year. But this was the first time I had a group consisting of mainly Malay girls. And the questions they raised were so different from the other groups I had done (which had fewer Malay girls) that it really got me thinking. Questions like :

- What do you tell a guy who touches your breast?
- How do you know if a guy who touches you is doing it accidentally or intentionally?
- What if the guy you like is now in the Boys' Home?

I was taken aback by the sheer 'adult-ness' of the questions. These are Sec 1 girls, for goodness sake! My topic for the day was about Infatuation but I soon realised the girls were in a different league. Did they have boys touching them at 14 years of age? Are some of their boyfriends already in the Boys' Home? How did they get to know these people? Where is the parental control?

Like the news article said, you don't have to be a social worker to know that the problem is brewing and threatening to get out of hand if no intervention is undertaken soon. And yes, I now firmly believe it is time to talk sex to the Malay community, because although the topic has long been considered taboo among the adults, the teenagers have taken things into their own hands, often times with disastrous consequences. In fact, we should talk sex to ALL teenagers in school, because otherwise they are getting all the information from the mass media, which is not known for sieving the good from the suspect for the public.

Meanwhile, I am still wondering what I would tell the Malay girls I'll meet again next week. Blogger Tym just reminded me my mission is "to nurture the future of the nation". The burden of such an awesome task weighs heavily on my shoulders. I don't want to pretend to be able to perform such an altruistic feat. In fact, I think everyone needs to do his little part -- parents, teachers, adults. It is everyone's responsiblity, ultimately, to nurture our future generation.

The Ghost of NKF

2005-08-21T00:51:00.000+08:00

Are you, like me, waiting with bated breath to see what other skeletons the CAD is, at the moment, digging up at NKF? It's the 7th month, and it seems like the ghost lurking in the shadows of the NKF office is not content to let Gerard Ee and his team carry on business as usual.

This is more 'gan jiong' than waiting to see if David and Posh will divorce. Especially since Gerard Ee has refused to comment further, thus stoking the flames of frenzied rumours about major indiscretion beyond just mere golden taps.

The coffee shop talk going around is, if it turns out to be really BIG TIME misdeed, we won't get to hear the full story. It will be hushed up. In particular if it has got anything to do with mismanagement of the donations from millions of Singaporeans.

The truth is still out there. Durai must be tossing and turning in bed right now.

If in doubt, just blame the school

2005-08-20T22:33:00.000+08:00

It makes me wonder if I'm in the right job sometimes. Especially when accusing fingers are pointing at the school, MOE, the education system for every little thing. Here's a sprinkling of the now familiar rhetoric:

- child comes home from school at 7pm everyday (it's the school, and its CCA, afternoon lessons, and the S papers)
- child's handphone gets stolen in school ("why is the school not teaching the right moral values?", "Why are there more thefts in schools now?")
- increase in drowning cases in Singapore (why doesn't the school teach swimming lessons during PE?)
- increase in childhood myopia (it's the darn whiteboard they use in schools!)
- child fails Chinese exam (those teachers ought to be shot! Why can't they make the lessons more interesting?)
- child names his project group Hitler and did the Hitler salute (what are they teaching in History?)

Frankly, I'm quite tired of the school and its teachers being the butt of these complaints. And it doesn't help that MOE gives us teachers such an exalted role -- that of "moulding the future of the nation" (it's advertising tagline a couple of years ago). It's really a tall order to live up to. A somewhat impossible KPI if you ask me.

So, to even the playing field a little, I have devised a simple questionnaire which I'll like to give to every parent before the yearly Meet Parents session. The questionnaire must be filled up without any help from the child. It goes like this:

Q1. Have you chatted with your child today?
Q2. When was the last time you had a meal with your child?
Q3. What are the names of 3 of your child's good friends?
Q4. What subjects does your child study in school?
Q5. Who is your child's favourite teacher? His most hated one?
Q6. What do you like your child to be when he grows up?
Q7. What does your child want to be when he grows up?
Q8. What activity does your family do together? How often?
Finally: Q9. Why do you give your child a handphone?

Now that we know each other better, lets talk. And lets stop the finger pointing. Lets see the limitations we both have, and also the potential we can have, in moulding this young life.

Tasteless Ads

2005-08-15T22:29:00.000+08:00

I know it's always very sensitive to talk about religion but I remembered reading Heavenly Sword's blog about strange, meaningless ads and recently I saw one bordering on blasphemy which I must comment on.

Saw the new FedEx one where a courier appeared to be walking on water, in an apparent reference to Jesus' miraculous act. The scene was accompanied with a sudden change in music (celestial-like), with the man positively glowing with an almost halo-like glow surrounding him (implying obviously that he's being imbued with godly powers). The religious reference can't be mistaken and is surely not a result of my over-sensitivity.

Now, I'm sure the creative folks who came up with this idea thought it very funny, and managed to convince the client too. However, I can't help but wonder if they've taken humour a bit too far. Would they, for instance, dare to create one that pokes fun at or trivializes the Prophet Mohammed? They're not the only guilty ones, of course. I'm sure we've heard of many jokes about Jesus, God, etc. Somehow, it seems that people are more tolerant towards cracking jokes about the Christian religion. Strange turn of events seeing that the Jews used to be so in awe of their God they did not even dare to utter the name of their God or spell it out in full.

Anyway, like I say, this is a sensitive topic so I shall try not to get into any serious hot soup over this. Just want to get it off my chest. For companies trying to sell their products, taking a cheap shot at another religion in the name of humour, is, in my opinion, showing no taste.

The scourge of modern technology in a student's life

2005-08-13T17:24:00.000+08:00

The teachers in my school had a meeting recently to discuss strategies to help the weaker students, who, despite approaching the end of term 3, are still floundering in their studies. The prognosis looks grim for these kids. And we are wringing our hands in despair. Time is short, we are over-worked, and these students are totally oblivious to our efforts to motivate them. How??

It is a perennial problem to many teachers in neighbourhood schools. But what is starting to look scary to many teachers is that we are seeing many distractions stealing time and attention from our charges that we never used to see before. During our discussion, we unanimously came up with 2 things that are robbing our kids of a meaningful time in school.

1) The handphone.
I wonder if parents who give handphones to their kids know exactly what the latter are doing with their handphones. How many SMSes they receive and send each day, when they are most busy sms-ing, and who their SMS buddies are. For many of the students who cannot concentrate during lessons are invariably busy sms-ing in the middle of lessons. Teachers are now well-trained to recognise the signs of an SMS-addict. A slight bowing of the head, hands under the table and we know what they're up to. You confiscate their handphones and you exacerbate the problem for the kid will not be able to concentrate for the rest of the day until he gets his handphone back. He will be so agitated over the SMSes he couldn't reply while his phone is in the teacher's hands.

I always wonder - who are these kids sms-ing to during school hours? Surely his friends are also having lessons as well? Do you see what a big problem this is now? If a kid in my school is busy sms-ing at 9 am on a school day, that means another student somewhere is also distracted from his studies. So this distraction problem has a multiplier effect. Are parents aware of this?

Next issue - what matter can be so urgent our kids have to reply to immediately? Chances are, it is no life or death issue but because we live in a instant mee society now, nothing can wait. So the teacher's authority in the classroom can be ignored for an SMS is waiting to be responded to.

2) Computer games
We can recognise some of the signs now of computer addiction because there are more and more cases for us to gain experience from. And we are no psychologists. The sleepiness in class, the dazed look, the English essays filled with strange names and places, the anti-social behaviour. In some extreme cases in my school, we can literally see the kid degenerate from Sec 1 to Sec 4. As an English teacher, I can even predict their English Oral exam score -- F, because these kids can't carry on a normal conversation any more. It's not that we don't intervene to help the child. We tried but what the kid does outside the school is beyond our control. And if parents also wring their hands in despair, who else is left to help them?

Because I've seen these cases in my school, I've made a mental note now that I won't introduce my Pri 1 daughter to computer games so soon. In fact, I don't think she will lose out significantly if she never learns how to play computer games. Playstation is not in her vocabulary now. As for handphones, I loathe the day when she will ask me for one because her friends are all using them. In the meantime, I hope more parents will think really hard before they put a handphone or a playstation in their kids' hands. Yes, technology is good, but only if you know how to control it. For many teenagers, they are already controlled by the technology. And they don't even know it.

"Today in History" - Priceless Gem of a Book

2005-08-12T10:16:00.000+08:00

If you have a primary school child, you would have received from your child's school a copy of "Today in History", a collection of events and special occasions important to Singapore, for every day of the year, compiled by students, complete with their own handwriting for some, and lovely drawings. The difference from other more serious adult books of this nature is that the entries are seen from the children's eyes, and that's what makes it all the more worthwhile reading.

Some interesting entries:
- 11 Jan 1965 : 25 cows sent the police in a flurry at Paya Lebar Rd.
- 14 Jul 1971 : opening of drive-in theatre at Yuan Ching Road
- 28 Sep 1988 : a Singaporean made the Guinness World Record for making the world's longest
dragon.
- 27 Sep 1973 : the Singapore Association of Magicians (!!) was officially registered.

There are 365 priceless nuggets of information in that book which I will certainly keep for a long time. So if you haven't got a copy because you don't have a child in primary school, I urge you to hunt down any relatives or friends who have more than 1 copy at home, and offer to buy it from them! Believe me, this is a momento worth paying for and worth cherishing.

Library - Storehouse of Knowledge or Playground for the Masses?

2005-08-10T18:35:00.000+08:00

Someone wrote to the Forum page recently about the noise from children at the new National Library. I thought he was being a bit picky. And that he's probably not a parent (I used to be like that too).

Then I visited the place today, a school holiday, at about 4 pm. And I must say he has a point. The new National Library is definitely not a sanctuary where you can retreat to savour a good book in peace. There are students 'choping' the lush sofa, not to do any serious reading, but to do their homework. You can see their exercise books and text books piled blatantly on the sofa. I thought there should be designated study areas in the library? But this is nothing yet. Proceed to the children's section and you see mayhem, literally.

Parents must be thinking the National Library is a good place for the kids to chill out. I saw a woman placing a blanket and pillow on the carpeted floor for her toddler to sleep on. Another mother was busy mixing formula with water, preparing the next feed for her baby. All this not in some obscure corner of the library, but right in the centre of the cacophony of noise from the kids whom I really felt like smacking, together with their parents. I could not tahan more than 5 minutes there. I quickly packed up my things, told my daughter we would have a more productive time at the community library and left.

Why do we tolerate such nonsense? The National Library gave some reply at the Forum page. I didn't read beyond the second paragraph cos it was the usual standard bureaucratese I'm so sick of reading. Something about being patient and tolerant and that the library is a place for everyone blah-blah-blah. Can we do some public education here and give a stern warning to parents who abuse this house of knowledge and teenagers who treat the place like the next MacDonalds? Lets call a spade a spade and stop making excuses for those inconsiderate people.

I want my National Library back!

Welcome

2005-08-09T14:38:00.000+08:00

Trisha should have been born Oct 3, 2004. But she didn't. On 5 May, 2004, while still in my womb, she left us. So we never got to see her in all her beauty. This site is dedicated to her. I've sought to name the site after her, although of course most of what I post here are chiefly my thoughts. But a part of Trisha lives in me forever. Top Of Mind is simply this, my thoughts on issues affecting my life, other people's lives. I'm quite busy so do not have the luxury to let those thoughts brew in mind, take root or slowly mature. Hence what I write here are literally things off the top of my mind, raw, unadulterated (if that is at all possible), quite often even rash. Still, it's a simple attempt to let Trisha live on, through my thoughts, because she's always in mine. See you up there, girl.