老师无言了一个星期

我是一所中学某班的班导师。

我自认我非常严肃。是的，我会开玩笑，可是对我的班，我很少如此。

我犹记得，7月8日，当我刚刚上任为他们的班导师时，我问了他们这么的一句话：

“你要我做天使般的老师，还是恶魔？”

无可否认，他们选择了天使。

然后，我就警告我的学生，说：“老师的性格是由你们而定。请记住。”

日子久了，一个月过去了，我发现，他们好懒散。功课不做不要紧，而且课业非常差，就连简单的乘法都不会。我出了一道题：“二分之一加二分之一是多少？”

吓死人的是，竟然有三成以上的学生不会。怎么办好？

我回想起，以前的我，华语特别烂，常常令老师哭笑不得。但是，我记得，一年级时我的级任老师，赖锦虹老师对我的耐性，慢慢一步一步教导我。我，最后不得不使出这个方法——一个一个学生轮流坐在我隔壁，一步一步慢慢解释，教导。

起初，学生很害怕我，因为我骂人特别凶。有哪位学生被训导处记过，我就再骂。再加上，我班的学生非常懒散，吩咐他们交上表格都需要等上三个星期，而且还被一名学生揶揄：“老师，你能够在三个礼拜内收齐表格已经算是厉害了。以前我们的老师要用上六个月。”

气死人了。

再说 ，我有这么一次说：“来，等下我要看到白板抹干净 。”岂知，没有人出来抹。被问起时，有一位学生说：“老师，你都没有讲要谁抹！”

糟糕。这么样的班怎么带？

结果，我出狠招，开始对他们又唬又喝，威胁说只要有任何科任老师投诉，有关受害者就要被罚抄五张纸，道：“我xxx来自xx班永远不会在班上xxxxxxx。”

九月的一天，一位女同学跟我哀求：“老师，你变回天使啦！”

我狠狠地瞪了她一眼，还微微的“哼”了一声，再加上粗重的口气说：“不可能！”

10月2日，弟子规老师跟我投诉班上学生讲不听。我一气之下，喝令他们去扫树叶，做苦工。到了第二天，我开始对我班的学生不闻不问。学生问我什么，我不答，连瞄一眼都没有，最多凶凶的瞪他们到他们不敢跟我做眼神交流。

10月3日，我赫然发现桌子上有一封信。打开来看，发现是一封短短的道歉信，信中原文：

“老师，对不起啦！

我们又害你被老师投诉，我们也是不想的。

对不起啦，老师。

我们答应你我们再也不敢让你被老师投诉了。

我们尽量啦！

老师，不要ｅｍｏ了！快点跟我们讲话啦！”

心狠就是心狠，我把信收起来，当作没看见，连华文老师也摇摇头，说：“你怎么可以那么样？心还不能软？”

我铁石心肠。

过后的那几天，我讶异了。

平时，当我一进班，班长会大大声喊：“起立！行礼！”接着，“老师早安！”然后就等我说：“早安，坐！”他们才肯坐。可是，因为我默不作声，他们想听的“坐”字久久未从我口中溜出。结果，整班就站着上课。下课时，有一群学生向我深深的鞠躬，拉长说：“老师，对不起！”

我的脸依然如此冷冰冰，可是心里笑了几下。你们活该。

10月9日，班长再次喊：“起立！行礼！”但是，声中带有“老师，快点被我们大声地请安感动吧！”的语气

。

我还是无动于衷，转身就在白板上龙飞凤舞写出一道道习题，而全班仍旧站着上课。

随后的那一幕，我愣了。

全班都在努力的回答习题。

他们从来没有这样过。他们数学很差。他们害怕我。但是，不知为何，他们鼓起勇气开始作答，努力的向周围的朋友请教。这一幕，我看傻了眼。因为这一幕，只有在优秀班才可以看到。

然后，有几位女同学在放学时，追上我，拉着我的假丝绸衣裳，说：

“老师，你快点讲话啦。”

“老师，你知道么，我长过那么大，读了那么多年的书，没有一个老师不会讲话。”

“是咯，老师，我求求你，快点讲话。你不讲话我们很怕的。”

我扯开衣服，回办公室去。

10月18日，年终大考。第一天，很不幸的，考数学。我心里想，看你们厉害！

10月21 日，我批改他们的试卷。

我……

他们的分数……

一个星期多没出声，没教书，分数竟然比起上次高几十巴仙。

我心里想：这次是我错了么？

在此，我懂了。

Love

This is a story used to share by my Moral Education teacher when I was at my prinary school. This story goes like this:

Once upon a time, there was a man, named Jack. He had kept three animals in his house:
 
a dog, a cat and a hamster, and he had kept them in three different cages.

 

Once in a while,
     he would
          bring the dog out for an evening walk or a morning ball game.
          take the cat out and scratch her lovely fur till she purred softly.
          put his hamster in a sophisticated playhouse for it to run and run.

Every meal time, each animal would be given a dish of exquisite meal dedicated to the type of animals he had. He would never give salmon fish to the dog or corns to the cat. Each had its most wonderful meal differently, everyday.

And the animals love Jack very much. So did Jack. To him, they're the most loveable animals in his house.

But, one day, he left the cage open before sleeping. The next morning, the hamster was eaten by the cat and the cat was injured by the dog. The dog was also injured by the cat scratches and it ran away from home.

Jack was puzzled at why his loveable animals turned so violent. He thought it was the food, but then he knew...


HARMONY is not given by segregation.
BENEFITS are not given by segregation.

To instil peace, harmony, unity and happiness, everyone must take initiative to know and understand each other. When we all know each other's differences, we will put aside that, tolerate, and then establish a common ground where everyone is happy.

If, like Jack, we treat people by groups, each group will love you for the benefits you give, but each group will envy towards the treatment you give each other. If that envy grows into a monster, we all are monsters.

Give time to blend and mix, not give benefits to create peace.

Learn to give, dear Malaysians. Learn to love. Humans aren't as ugly as you think, unless you are paranoid.

If Jack didn't want to open the three cages for us to mix, we open ourselves, if not, we just talk across cages, because soon, the cages will not be needed anymore.

Peace, Malaysia.

I love you.

Of Nowadays (Part One)

Maths is a dead subject now. No longer living. I gave my 13-year-old-and-scored-7As-in-UPSR cousin this question: One class as 30 students where 20 of them love Science and another 20 love Maths. How many students love both?

 

He stared at the question and quickly-as-a-matter-of-factly scribbled this:

 

 

30 - 20 - 20 = __
 

"Your question got problem," he frowned.



I looked at him. He was going to take the private school entrance exam and if this question cannot be solved, I have no hope for him to obtain at least a quarter-scholarship (of course there is no such thing as quarter-scholarship).

"Think," I commanded.

He gripped the paper and ran downstairs seeking help from a mechanical engineer father. "Pa, do this for me."

I stared at him ridiculously. "What? I asked you to solve and you turn to your father!"

They both ignored me. Then another shocking news reached my ears:

"Eh, you don't give him this question. You look carefully. Your question is faulty," he said.

*JAWDROPPED*

*

Diameter and radius, who would have not known? My cousin is peculiar. He claimed it was NEVER in his primary school syllabus. It was supposed to be a secondary school syllabus. When I directed him to revise his books, he found it.

"Oh, diameter is like this," he said, drawing a retarded circle and a line jamming through the point of origin. From a clock, it looked approximately like 12.30pm. Then he extended a line from the point of origin and touched the circumference, such that this radius is pointing at 3 o'clock. "This is radius." He smiled.

I took his pen, and drew a radius pointing to 5 o'clock. "Is that a radius?"

"No." He quickly replied.

"Why?"

"It wasn't pointing at that direction," he signified with his index finger pointing to his right.

I was totally surprised. I rotated the paper such that the radius I drew pointed to the direction he intended. "So, my line is it a radius now?"

He scratched his head. "Where got people rotate exam paper one?"

Don't tell me. You should know what your reaction is.

*

Creativity seems to be the latest horror story to any child. I remembered my cousin's face suddenly folded over several times and let out a disgusted noise, "Use my imagination and creativity again?"

I nodded. It was a question of drawing a 10-metre wide circle with only a pencil and a compass.

He quickly turned to his papa and mama, whining, "Pa, Mi, if I give you this and ask you to use imagination and only..." he paused and revealed the tools I have given him to his parents, "this," he said disgustedly, "to answer, can you do it?"

His parents glanced at it.

"I have no time for this. Your cousin gave it to you, so you do it on your own," the mother said.
"What is it? Let me help..." he stared at the question long enough. Then he said, "I don't know. You go ask your cousin."

Then his face glowed truimphantly as if he is the king of answers. He shoved me the paper and tools. "Nah! Papa and mami also can't solve it. How can I solve it!" Then he turned on his computer.

I sighed. My parents are not university graduates, but they are my powerful encyclopaedia. They sometimes can't help me on maths, but they open my minds. I am glad I have such parents.

*

One day, his sister came to me, saying that there's a word she can't understand. I looked at it and it wrote "fertiliser" in Chinese language. So I told her in English is "fertiliser". She stared at me as if I didn't explain anything at all.

"What is fertiliser?" she asked.

Being a 8-year-old toddler, I couldn't blame her much. So I said, "You know, mami has plants outisde? The flowers? Sometimes they need something like tiny fishballs to become bigger and healthier."

She stared at me even stronger. "Huh?"

"You go ask mami. Maybe she can show you," I gave up.

She ran to the kitchen, found her mum and did what I tell her. Her mum came to me, wiping her wet hands on her shirt, "Ah, sorry to tell you, we don't use fertilisers. So I can't show you."

I... collapsed.

*

"Gor gor, how you draw so beautiful?" my cousin sister tugged at my sleeve.

"Come, I show you. You see this...?" then I began how my father and mother taught me about observing power. How the size and perspective matters. How shadow shifts under light. How things must be balanced. How object must be logical.

"Can you fold paper swan?" she meant paper crane.

"Yes."

"Can show me?"

"Yes."

"Now?"

"Later."

"When later?"

"Till you know how to draw," I gave an evil grin.

You know what's best about an innocent child? They will give whatever it takes to get whatever they need. I soon saw her struggling to draw and ask me about the pictures. But I pitied her because she had to draw on newspapers.

"Meimei," I called her. "You don't have papers to draw on?"

"No. Papa mami din buy also," she shook her head with her sorry eyes.

I reached my file and gave a stack of A4 papers. "Nah, draw for me, every day."

She gladly took it.

Creativity is something to be explored. Seriously. If you have the tools, you make wonders. Don't ask your children to read, read and read. That's not learning.

*

One day we went to Sushi King. Me and her mami craved for baby octopus. So I grabbed a plate.

"Gor gor, what's that?" my cousin sister words glued together, sounding like "wazzat".

"Baby octopus," then I added before she put any wild imaginations on it, "it tastes very nice!"

Her papa suddenly said. "You don't eat one lar. Really one, you don't eat."

I ignored him and cut a tentacle for her. She cautiously put it in her mouth and grinned. "Nice lo."

Sometimes, as a parent, you have to give chance to your kids. Don't go laying conclusions when your kids have no exposure on them, unless it is not beneficial.

Thank You Notes

I hope you are truthful enough. I have given you the colour and please check your notes based on your given colour. No dishonesty please!

BLUE
Don't be so blue, like me. Be happy! Nah, just joking. I thank you for being my coursemate or faculty mate although I didn't do much on your life, except my serious face problem. If you are an enemy to me, I thank you if you become my friend (if not, ignore this part. LOL). All the best in your future undertakings yeah! Belanja me OCHADO during convo and I buy you Sushi King's Bento Set! I promise!




RED
You are like a family to me. Your presence in my life has changed me. Seriously. I am very happy to be with you and sad enough to leave you because of graduation. I know I have no internet connections, but please, do contact me when you are bored, OK? You are my primary colour that taints my tertiary life! Keep tainting me!




ORANGE
You somehow, hmm, doesn't "fit in to either category". Don't be sad. You are unique. I wish to know more about you, but time doesn't allow. Or maybe I am too shy. I will work hard on it, OK? Maybe someday we will have a great chat under a Mamak restaurant or something. But do look out for me always! Thank you for being a tiny presence in my life. Don't take it as a prick; in fact, having you is better than losing you!




PURPLE
Unique. Like the colour suggest. You are one-hard mysterious object. I know you but I don't really know you. We are best friends in a sort, but maybe because distance is better in playing a part of strengthening bonds. I guess if I grow too close to you, disaster will strike! Thank you, peep! Send me letters, if you want to! I will give you my address! It's been a long time since I collect letters and stamps!




YELLOW
Always cheerful, I think. That's how I look at you. You brighten my day up! Don't you have a sad moment or something? Playful and cheeky. But please, sometimes don't be too self-obsessed. I wish I can be as bright as you! Thank you, although we didn't know each other long enough, but I believe the moment we had walked together would suffice! Danke!




TEAL
DANCE CLUB ROCKS! See? I purposely put up a Dance Club section. You guys play a serious role in transforming me, especially Angeline Tan. Because of her "You can laugh or not?" question, I am able to change myself. Though, some of you still are strangers to me, but I love you guys. For me, Dance Club really is a club! It progresses, adapts and grows together with members and members' interests. A good family to be with. You can go ahead and read the RED section if you want to.


FUCHSIA
Music and similar interest bonds us. I am very very happy that I know you! Through events, maybe, but most importantly, music and interests! You are the one big fat fuchsia colour I cannot miss. If only we can meet earlier, we could have been a gang or something to dominate the campus. LOL. Anyway, thanks. Had it not our interests, I don't think we are friends. Right? Rhetorical question, though. I wish I can do something for you!

GREEN
I don't know you. SHOOOOOOOOOO. Haha. I am sorry, next time PM me more. I can't just say THANKS to a random stranger without knowing their deeds, right? But thanks for being my FB friend though. Harrass me with your wonderful PMs!

The Piano Boy

 

 

Play this song before you read!

"The saddest thing about a masterpiece is that it often portrays the deepest emotion and thought of the master but never quite understood it and when interpret them, it is either too late or misinterpreted, like Chinese whispers."

 

 

I met this brain child, five years old, sitting upright with awkwardly accurate bent elbows but graceful fingers dancing around on the ivories. His eyes were closed and his lips twitched occasionally as if mumbling a mantra. He was playing a piece so beautifully written that each key hammered into the depths of my heart.

 

I waited till he had finished playing. He would slowly open his eyes and breathe. He turned and stared at me, waiting for my reply.

 

"Wonderful!" I nodded as I touched his scalp of thin hair. "Who wrote this?"

 

"Me," he forced out a smile. His blue eyes locked into mine. Eerie but deep.

 

"Amazing!" I couldn't think of any better answer. I had to stop scaring him at each exclamation. "You know, I wrote a piece when I was eight and I thought I was already a genius."

 

He chuckled, either in disapproval or in amusement. I didn't know which.

 

"You want to hear it?" I asked.

 

He nodded rigorously, like a child being offered with a big lollipop.

 

I moved to the piano seat, and he carefully sat on one edge. "It's OK," I said. I wrapped my hands around him and hugged him closer. "I want you to hear it nicely. I want you to feel what I feel. I want you to see the moon and the stars hovering above the lake as little glowing fairies dance with the petals of a cherry blossom."

 

He stared at me.

 

I began, with a soft E note an octave above the middle C and entered into the key of A minor. For me A minor is blue and melancholy with a little sense of hope and joy. It's beautiful. The tune echoed around the room and he stared at my fingers closely, as if my fingers were making the music rather than the keys.

 

I finished with a pianissimo ritardando A note two octaves above middle C, accompanied by a slight Tierce di Picardi, to show the last ray of moonlight casting on the grey mountains before being clouded over again.

 

He clapped. "It's nice, Mr Wavericky. I like the birds soar and the white cottage near the alley!"

 

I grinned, his picture was not too far off the mark. "You can see it?"

 

"I feel it, Mr Wavericky. It's pretty but fragile, like a thin mosaic glass on the verge of falling."

 

"Genius!" I exclaimed. I reminded myself not to scare him with my booming voice again.

 

"Three C sharps are used in your piece, mister. Did you wish for hope much often?" he asked, looking at me. "C sharps in A minor are rare but exotic when used in appropriate places."

 

It's my turn to stare at him. How did this five-year-old boy talk like a professor? I fumbled for an answer. "I guessed so. My mom was seriously ill at that time. I wished for her recovery."

 

"What illness?"

 

"I don't know. Something to do with heart. Infection, I think."

 

"Did she - "

 

"No, she didn't," I breathed, held my tears. I am a man who never cries. I reminded myself this.

 

"I'm sorry," he looked down.

 

I tipped his chin. "It's OK. So, tell me what's your song is about. It's too beautiful that it clouds my perception and heart."

 

"It's a C major song. The chord goes from C, to A minor, then G, then back to C again, E minor, going to D minor chord before going to B diminished chord, but I think I sharpened the F in that. With a few random chromatic notes, I transposed it to G major, then to the seventh chord of it, and to B minor, A minor and to F major. There was a long two bars of A minor and B minor and ended with a imperfect chord of D major."

 

"Hefty chunks," I nodded.

 

"It supposed to mean something."

 

"Such as?"

 

"I thought you could feel it," he slammed down the piano cover and left.

 

*

 

The next day, he died peacefully in his sleep. The cancer couldn't be stopped. It anchored into his mind, rewired them into a genius pianist. I wanted to cry, but I told myself again I am the man who never cries.

 

His song entitled Sky was played on his funeral. He had no father or mother. He was raised in an orphan house. His interest on piano and music brought me to him by his superintendent. Nobody attended his funeral, that was sad enough. But at the very last minute, his superintendent came to see him one last time.

 

"Charming boy, he was," she wept.

 

"He is," I corrected softly, staring at the pale cheeks of the boy in the coffin.

 

I held back my tears.

 

*

 

I remembered the song. It hammered into me. I rewrote the piece again. At first I didn't notice anything about the chord progressions.

 

Till then, when I found out...

 

I cried.

 

Very bitterly.

 

 

 

 

L41187

"How long?" she asked.

"72 hours, maybe less," he replied.

"Can we survive that hit?" she asked again, eyes locking at his.

He flipped through a few pages of a thick book of nonsense about some evil antagonists taking over the world. He inhaled.

"Mr President, can we survive that hit?" she repeated.

He looked at her, observing her sad eyes. He shook his head. "No. No, we can't. Nobody can."

"You do realise we our doing live telecast, so I have to ask you this and it will not go uncensored: what is your best hope?" she reached her microphone closer to his lips.

He thought.

A meteor seven hundred metres at its widest point, lozenge-shaped, had been zipping past Jupiter and heading straight for Earth. Its speed was boosted by Jupiter's huge gravity well. And now, it had reached top speed of eight times the speed of sound. Hypersonic.

A month ago, nobody reported seeing any incoming celestial danger. There was one huge Trojan asteroid as big as five kilometres minding its own business. It was labelled and categorized properly as L41187. Then something happened to that asteroid. Something slammed on it and chipped a piece of from it.

And that piece headed towards Earth.

When it was discovered, the people realised it was too late. Nuclear missiles were fired, but turned off at the very last minute. The missiles were too slow for the chip. By the time the missles intercepted the chip, the chip would have entered Mars orbit. Scientists feared of contamination of the virgin Mars.

But now nobody could devise a better plan.

"My best hope," he began, "is praying. I urge everyone on this blue planet to stay calm. We can do nothing but bring ourselves closer to God. Wash away our sins. Help each other. All the useless wars we had, we must stop. We must forgive."

"You strike us as a very religious person, Mr President," she said. "Do you believe God will save us?"

"Do you?" he asked back.

She startled. "I believe that this is our punishment for all our sinful and silly acts. We deserve it."

"Look at the countries at war. Will they think like you do?" he questioned. "It's just a filthy rock reported three weeks ago and now every nation is fighting over each other for food and water and shelter. Where is the love? Nuclear warfare is on the verge of erupting. I am glad my nation stays out of the war. Look at that country," he pointed at the computer screen. "Tell me if there's anyone left on that area."

She went silent.

*

25 hours left.

"Is it ready?" he asked.

"Yes, Mr President," General Sully replied. He opened a huge metal door.

"How many?" They both entered. A blue glow washed over them.

"Easily 400. But till now we have got only a hundred and seventy-three. Some are on the way and some died."

"Died?" he raised an eyebrow.

"Shot down by rebels and wars," General answered.

"Alright, my condol-"

"There's one more thing, Mr President," General began.

"Yes?"

"Two hundred containment units went faulty. We have no experts to repair them, let alone time. The ones who are already inside were toasted."

"Is there a place for me?" he asked.

"Certainly, Mr President," General Sully answered.

"Then stop worrying about those. Get me into my unit and I will see you later."

"Regarding on the L41187, does it exist?" General asked.

"Yes, what makes you think it doesn't?"

"Then why I need to activate code L41187 for the missile launch? It coincides badly with the asteroid's name. There was a failed Jupiter exploratory mission whereby the craft Copernicus' Flight went faulty and can never reestablish contact. The last transmission sent in was two light seconds away from Jupiter, that is, close to L41187. Coincidence, isn't it?"

"You think too much, General. L41187 asteroid was named long before the activation code came to my hands. The code restructured to be similar to the asteriod name because it is easier to recognise the target-lock of the missiles. We don't want any wrong missiles firing, don't we? As for that poor chap lost in Jupiter, it remained lost."

General Sully nodded.

"How many countries are beyond hope?"

"Around ninety-four, Mr President. They will be doomed by the time the chip slam in."

"Good, get me onboard."

"Do I have a unit for myself as well, Mr President?"

"Did you sign up?"

"No, but there seems to be some empty units over there," General replied.

"Wait till you are left with 30 minutes. If the casket remains empty, you are allowed to come onboard."

"Yes, sir."

General Sully sealed the door of the unit, leaving the President in it. The casket was a top-secret military unit for cryogenics and life support. It can inter-switch roles. Radiation, heat and any known toxic or physical damage are nothing to that caskets.

General walked out of the chamber and took an elevator to the President's office. He noticed the book the President always read. The book about an antagonist take over the world. He took it and opened it up.

His nostils flared and eyes went red.

"... R and D caskets. They must be done within five years. Deploy and prepare Copernicus for orbit interference on L41187... Reprogramme coordinates of missiles... Destroy Copernicus after chipping using mass drivers..."

So, it was the President orchestrating the doomsday...

He read on, and he felt limp:

"Self-note: real event takes place 24 hours earlier than own speech."

And he saw a glancing white light in the skies.

Message In A Bottle II

I've heard a Chinese website about writing your heartfelt wishes and feelings or problems in a virtual 'bottle' and toss it into a website 'sea' anonymously and someone will 'pick' it up and reply your problems anonymously as well. Soon, your 'bottle' will land on the 'shore' where you can read it.

Cool.

Feel like wanna try it out by having you guys post on the CLEPSYDRA on my page anonymously or with fake names, so see anyone can reply that. Is that a nice idea?