The thing about Today

The thing about today is that no matter how many people tell you to plan for it -- it is immeasurably unpredictable; anything could happen today which no one could fully foresee. No matter how old you are and how many 'todays' you've seen, you've never seen a day like this one, and no one has either. No matter how regimented your routine is and how tight your schedule is, today will not be the same as yesterday, and was never meant to be. Today contains new people to meet, new jokes to laugh at, new tears to shed, new thoughts to think, new fears to battle with.

Today is unique, and it came purely by Grace; we didn't deserve to have today. But we have it nevertheless, and we have a myriad of choices on how to use it. And, when today leaves to be replaced by another day, it will never return -- it is lost forever, swallowed by the black hole of time -- like the thousands of days before it. Photographs, writings, monuments and recordings will try but fail to fully re-enact the majesty of today, reduced to faded portraits of the truth. The man of the future will do every thing in his strength to return to today to change or re-live it, but will tragically be forced to merely remember it.

We are stewards of today. Live it like it lasts for only a day, but treasure it like it echoes throughout eternity. 

Half-time reflection

June is almost over, and six months have passed since the day I stepped into school as a teacher. It’s interesting how one’s perspective can change in a relatively short time, yet this year has not been ordinary either, to say the least. Six months ago, I became a teacher because I thought my personal inclinations, skills set, experiences, passions and concern for my country were adequate reasons to step into what I knew would be extremely challenging. Six months on, I am reminded daily that the teacher, in fact, learns the most in the classroom. I'm still trying to find the best ways to engage with my students, figure out the best methods to spur their learning and test out new classroom management techniques. I am consistently humbled by the kids that I teach, and by the other Fellows who work so hard for their students.

In an ever-demanding, exhausting and emotionally draining profession, it’s easy to resign to the fact that it is all too difficult, and succumb to the belief that some students are beyond redemption. Every day, teaching may mean facing angry, indignant, cynical, apathetic, interruptive and ‘bored-out-of-my-mind’ kids who want nothing more than to leave school the same way they came in. Every day, we teach so that they wouldn’t, so that someday, excellence in both their careers and character would be within reach. And because of this, every day in the last 6 months has presented itself in a myriad of ways: a battle over the hearts and minds of the students, a battle between my personal comforts and the sheer inconvenience of teaching difficult students, a battle with the rejection that comes with standing before a class that would rather sleep than learn a language that’s foreign to them, a battle of loneliness. Yet, it is only in the great battles that great victories are won.

Over the last 6 months, I have seen the commotion of a circus calmed into the quiet of a library, the disruptive shush the others who are interrupting the lesson, the apathetic raise their hands for the first time to answer a question, my boys cycle through the rain to get to an extra class to learn more English, my girls read their storybooks aloud while waiting to be taught. It’s during these unpredictable days and months that I have eavesdropped on students playing self-made English games with each other, witnessed Form 1 boys correcting each other in English, caught unsuspecting girls reading model English essays on their own initiative, walked into class to find the students ready and standing with their books arranged on the table, and laughed at the hilarity of my kids acting out the random words of an English poem.

Teaching in a high-need environment has been both heartbreaking and exhilarating at the same time.

This week, having returned all my students’ mid-year exam papers, we celebrated our success by recognizing the students who improved significantly. I handed out certificates, made a grand speech about working hard, and read the names of the students who failed in their previous English exam, but passed this last exam. The students cheered for their classmates joyfully, and then one student suggested that we shout our class motto (“Work hard, get smart!”) together, in true Malaysian-political-rally style. Hope had found its way back into their hearts! I used the opportunity to address the ones who didn’t do as well, and encouraged them to work harder. I told them we are going to be relentless about catching up, and in the process, learn about the stuff beyond books too. Only God knows what they can achieve with the right backing.

At this half-time point, it isn’t very clear whether my kids will eventually rise above the education inequity they were born into. But hope is growing and there’s a greater sense of possibility with these kids. For that reason, I am glad to be where I am at this moment in time, however long or short it may be - in the heat of the battle. 

FTK

For P, a student from 2J, who said in jest while I was waiting to enter another class the other day: “Cikgu, masuklah ke dalam kelas kami. Dia orang sudah pandai”. A joke notwithstanding, those heavy words made me ponder upon the fact that they were spoken by a Form 2 student, outside a Form 1 classroom, whose classmates do not know what “grass” is, or how “green” could be used to describe its colour.

For the many students I teach who failed their recent Monthly Test, and are sadly used to it.

For A, who wouldn’t stop singing in my classes at the start of the year, and who kept testing my patience over and over again by disrupting the lessons and disturbing the other students. Once, during an especially difficult day with him, I sent him outside the classroom after deciding that the class was better off without a major distraction, only to find him drawing obscenities on a piece of scrap paper. Today, A is my regular class “Policeman”, a classroom role reserved for the best behaved students. He’s on-task, gets into his sitting position immediately and is silent as a mouse when I call for it. In a recent house visit, I learnt that his mother left him early in his childhood – and that behind every disruptive kid is a story.

For the 8 students who braved the heavy downpour on that Tuesday evening to learn English in our makeshift extra tuition class, who jostled for books when they found out they could borrow them. I was dumbfounded by K, who had cycled in the rain to come, but did not see it fit to park his bicycle under the house roof – and left it outside in the rain. I thought of home and the city life; a world only 2 and a half hours away but one that is entirely different from K’s, where mothers run to their children with umbrellas after tuition classes.

For KS, who sleeps through my lessons despite countless warnings, consequences and one-to-one (or ‘man-to-man’) conversations, up till today. I'm at my wits' end with him and will be visiting his mother soon. 

For T, who washes cars for 5 hours after school, and whose mother works 2 jobs - every day - to put food on the table. 

For L, who has learnt 190 new English words in these 3 months and achieved 95 correct words in her recent "Word Bank Test" (I need to teach her how to spell "Challenge" now).

FTK is "For the kids"

"Teacher, berapa markah saya?"

"Hi, W, you got 64% for your English paper. Congratulations, it's a 'B'. Let's work hard to get you an "A" in the next exam."

"Teacher, I will work hard."

Unlike the student above, many of my students barely passed their recent exam (40% is the passing mark), and some have evidently written themselves off after so many years of underachievement and negative reinforcements of false beliefs ("saya memang tak pandai"). To top it all, for every student who tries to speak the language, two or more will put him/her down, discouraging any potential growth or increase in confidence. This is the reality of the streaming system: the good become better and the poor become worse, and the path of these students is really decided from the first day of school, unless some intervention is done.

Yet, some students have decided to change that. I've been so encouraged to hear stories of students who deliberately speak the language despite the flak they get from their friends: "Biarlah mereka, kami suka Bahasa Inggeris." They stutter and they stumble, getting it wrong more often than right, but they are my 'fire-starters'.

And I hope this fire catches on.

"Bolehkah sir membantu saya?"

22nd February

"Thank you, class"

"Thank you, sir!"

I place my well-used marker pens back into my bag and pack up as the students line up to thank me. This is my favourite part of the day. At the end of a long day of school, my Form 1 students typically take my hand and touch it to their foreheads to say their goodbyes: the 'salam', a part of the Malay culture which I've come to love.

N, the class monitor, seems to linger at the back of the class while I bid goodbye to his classmates. As the last of the students leaves the room, he walks up to me and speaks softly, "Sir, bolehkah sir membantu saya?"

"Ada apa, N?", I reply.

"Tak, tadi di dalam dewan semasa pelawat itu datang, saya sedar bahawa Bahasa Inggeris saya sangat lemah. Saya tak mahu fail lagi. Bolehkah sir ajar saya lebih lagi?"

3rd March

Word is getting around that I am opening our house up for tuition. It's free and it's for the students in my English classes - that should be enough to attract the attention of the students who cannot afford the overpriced tuition centers here. We can start a little later so that the students (and I) can rest after 7 straight hours of lessons, and parents would be involved as they'd have to send their children to our house.

Two girls meet me in the staff room to ask if the hearsay is true and if they can come along. Moments later, in 1M, I see an open invitation written in large words on the whiteboard, detailing my house address and the tuition time for anyone who is interested!

6th March

S, a new student from 1B, appears from the canteen and walks towards me, visibly sullen. I stop walking and we meet in the middle of the assembly grounds.

"Cikgu, maaf cikgu. Hari ini dalam Ujian Bahasa Inggeris saya tak buat soalan summary dengan baik. Saya tak tahu. Maaf cikgu", he says, choking on his words and occasionally wiping his eyes.

I reassure him that we still have the rest of the year to work on writing a good summary, and I invite him to the tuition class later. 

Today was our first day. What's so amazing about this class? I didn't start it. They did. These kids came despite having exams tomorrow (and after the English paper has already ended!), realizing there is much to do to catch up. 

For every disruptive kid, there is a kid who genuinely wants to learn and take back those stolen years. That's why I teach for Malaysia!

How on earth did I end up here? (a quick pictorial update)

... was my question to myself at 5:30 a.m. on a Tuesday morning, as I drove to Gemas from the only city I've known, Petaling Jaya. Here's a quick update of the last few months:

My awesome students from class "A4"

Teachers' training (in Nov and Dec) came by in a flash. We sat in lectures, cracked our heads for the best lesson plans, learnt and practiced best teaching techniques and practices, brainstormed activities - and taught students in what we called "Kem SKORlah", a holiday-school programme.
My proudest moment was when we got them to participate in an actual debate with another class - a feat they would have otherwise shrugged off for being "too difficult" (and they won!). I learnt - with them - that a sense of possibility is very contagious. We, the teachers and their leaders, need to believe in them first, and soon, they would too.

Cards by the students. "I will continue working hard after this...Work Hard, Get Smart!"

Gemencheh, one town before Gemas

My favourite part of the journey

Gemas, the town where my placement school is located at, has a lovely old-town feel. Everything can be found or reached within 5 minutes, and at night people run from shade to shade for safety because hordes of birds descend upon the town (and so do their lunches and dinners!). Dusty electrical shops decorate the roads, and a giant picture of the Nokia 3310 hangs from one of the shop's walls. I love it.

Gemas town

Uncle, can give discount?

Outside our weekday' home

Wai Khong and Yin Yee, my Teach For Malaysia colleagues who are teaching in the same school with me have built a home out of this house... our home for the next 2 years.

Before...

After (---much scrubbing)

Tomorrow marks the second week of school (and work). As Teach For Malaysia fellows, we have been allotted the last few classes to teach, and along with this privilege comes the challenge of engaging our students and keeping them interested. It's what we signed up for, but many of us are starting to feel the daily grind of a teacher's day-to-day routine: the bureaucracy, lethargy and challenges that come in all shapes and forms. Yet, at the end of this week, the question bounced back to me, "How could we NOT teach - when we see what we see?"

I'm reminded of how I ended up here.

Crossroads

Today represents the transition between two distinct phases of my life. 

Yesterday I bade my student life farewell. Tomorrow I'll stand before my class, a teacher.

There are many things that remain the same -- family, friends, values, faith, goals -- but with the other things, life rarely stops to let us catch up. Let tomorrow come!