When I was in my first year of primary school, my teacher would have one of my classmates, a chosen regular for the task to walk out to the school canteen to buy her lunch. That kid (who is now on my Facebook) would have to balance whatever our teacher fancied on that day between his tiny hands all the way back to the classroom. They were times when she fancied hot noodle soup or congee that was served in porcelain bowls.
My experience with her was when a classmate squeezed my newly infected BCG (Bacillus Calmette-Guérin-a vaccine against tuberculosis injected onto the upper-arm) and it popped! Blood oozed out like a busted water pipe and she made no effort to call for help, or at least ask me to do something about it. A classmate whispered from behind me to use my handkerchief to block the bleeding. I wept out of fear and my white uniform was now soaked in my own blood. Miss Tan, the teacher eventually screamed, ‘Let him cry forever!’, and continued with her home assignments for us on the blackboard with colored chalks. She didn’t bother to find out what happened and the kid that busted my BCG over a misunderstanding on a pencil sharpener was not even questioned of his actions.
She wasn’t abusive in any other ways but I guess she was constantly hoping of a different life elsewhere with a tiara on her head other that the classroom she was standing in with 45 kids.
The next year, we had Mr. Mustapha. He was a good teacher equipped with two forms of punishments when we misbehaved (like talking when being requested not to). One was having us ‘suck’ a pacifier in front of the whole class. We would then point out whoever spoke next and would pass the saliva-soaked pacifier to the next recipient. The other was the administering of his “belly-pinch”. A quite harmless but an excruciating pinch-and-twist on the region right below the belly-button when we misbehaved or missed our homework! It was like being tickled and pinched at the same moment, and at most times would find ourselves laughing WHILE we winced in pain!
Unfortunately, I experienced my first traumatic act of injustice done to me during our first term examinations that year. We had a teacher from another class invigilated whom we were not taught on any subjects from or met before. During the examination of the first subject on the Malay language, the teacher saw the kid next to me trying to peek at my paper. She came over and very angrily told me to cover my paper up as they were being peeked at. She then went to my bag and pulled out three A4-sized notebooks (we called them exercise books) and threw them on top of my paper and told me to cover up my paper with those notebooks.
Me being me, the moment I saw that one of the notebooks was the one with all the tips and facts on the subject that I was at that moment being tested on, I decided to put it aside. I placed the book at the top left hand corner of the desk in a way of showing off my honest intentions – that I could have flipped the pages for answers but instead placed it aside. I didn’t think putting the book back into my bag was a good idea for she could think that I was up to something fishy or disrespectful to her by putting the book back when she had taken it out for me. Then I proceeded with my paper.
Before I knew it, I was pulled from my chair by the collar and was CONSTANTLY slapped left and right! I didn’t know what was happening as in the midst of the pain, tears were swelling up and flowing uncontrollably from my eyes. She shouted and demanded why I copied! The book was placed neatly at a corner that was visible to everyone and my piece of test paper laid neatly in the middle of my desk.
I was disoriented and shocked! I obviously couldn’t answer her through my tears but managed to utter weakly in broken English, “…but teacher take the book for me…”
Great! I thought teachers were supposed to be all understanding and were protectors of a child’s well-being or welfare, but this one was nowhere near of being there. Instead, what I said aggravated her even more and I recieved more blows on my cheeks from that outcome!
She then announced to the rest of the class that she had magic! She had eyes behind her head and no one could escape her sight. If that was the case, why couldn’t she see that I was innocent?
To be continued on Part 2 (of 4 parts).
Originally posted on Brien’s Bits in one part as, “mad teachers that I have known” on 24 August 2006.
Related links: “favs from brien’s bits“
“some evil demented creatures in the form of teachers – part 4 of 4 – despite and in-between the bad, there were the good years and better teachers”
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