Down Memory Lane

Sitting here on my blue desktop chair, biting my bottom lip as I faced the blank page displayed in my flat computer screen. I wonder to myself of what to contribute to my old school’s magazine launch. It is impossible for me to come up for something unique yet logical. The letter that I received stated that the contribution could be in a form of poem, story and etcetera, mainly based on the experience earned. However, nothing seems to express what I feel like writing at the moment.

Not knowing what to think at this time, my mind wandered through all the memories I had that belonged in my younger times at the school. I remembered going for the many extracurricular activities in Year 4, 5 and 6. Ahh…how I loved playing football with the boys. It was one of the best times I’ve ever had in SK Catholic English.

Thinking about this, I laughed to myself alone. It was a bit amusing as I recalled the time where we, the girls and boys always tried to play football in our vacant class when it was raining or whether if it was too hot outside. We would kick the ball and sometimes the ball would almost knock down the ceiling fan! Then, everyone would run for cover in case we get into trouble for vandalizing a school property. I had many fond times with my friends whom I grew up with there and I wish I could still hang out with them now.

Tears welled up in my eyes then. It blurred the vision of my computer screen. I couldn’t believe all these memories were real. They actually happened in my life out of all the million trillion people in the world.

I was taught by the best teachers – especially my utmost loving teachers; Mr. Joe, Madam Hilda and Mr. Ramlan. Unfortunately, for every school life has its ‘Hellos’ and ‘Goodbyes’ when the time has come. I remembered crying when I had graduated from my primary school. At the time, I couldn’t bear the thought of having to leave as from a little child I’ve studied there and to leave the teachers who’ve acted as parents to me.

As my memories unfold, I thought of the punishments received in my class. Again, I laughed alone. I had recalled Mr. Ramlan’s way of canning us as punishments before.
     “Janine! Hah! Let me see your KH assignment,” he ordered. That has somehow become his pick up line in our year.
     “Uhm…” I mumbled as I pretended to rummage through my school bag, looking for what I know was not there because I purposely left it home for not being able to complete it. I was too lazy to finish any of my homework given as I had wanted to watch my favorite TV show.
     “Sorry teacher, I…I…”, I hesitated the moment I saw the cane in his firm, big hands swinging in front of me.
     “Hah! I think I know what you were you going to say…you didn’t bring blah blah. The old cliché trick again. Well, you know what to do”, he said as he moved a few feet back, rubbing his hands together with glee as if he was going to dive into a huge chicken for meal.

Knowing what he meant, I stood up and shakily extended my hands away from my sides. It was time to feel the thing we call “Ramlan’s Mighty Cane”. We all knew it hurt, that it was excruciatingly awful but it was our own fault to always put ourselves in the position we regret. Then again, in my second opinion, I think that it was also because of how we loved to see our teacher put on a fierce face especially when one of us cries out in pain after each hit. It is like his signature punishment to us all.

As for Mr. Joe and Madam Hilda, they have their own way of admonishing their naughty students. They would usually say to us;
     “You are models to your juniors. Show a good behavior because you all are big enough to know these things. You’re not little babies anymore”

Every time when they say it, it would make me feel guilty and wanting to apologize non-stop especially when they also look straight into your eyes mainly to emphasize on what they have said.

Good times never fade fast eh? Being a high school student now changes my perspective on my primary school entirely. I realized that my old school was once my home – the love and friendships I have shared there and my dedicated teachers who are aging every day; I have loved and come to appreciate so much. Many a time, I see myself as being a young student again, running around on the school field. Everything was pleasuring me when I step my foot back on the grey pavement of SK Catholic English.

Friends whom I made with were like my brothers and sisters. No matter how much we used to quarrel, we managed to stay in touch after our momentary life there in the school. Whenever we bumped into each other, we would greet each other and then tuned in our minds together on how much fun we used to have in Catholic English.

Every time when I feel pressured by living a high school life, I think of my time in my old school. It was the only thing that kept reminding me of why I was in school, my purposes and my goal for the future.

This also reminds me that I had goals when I started living the exquisite choices of SK Catholic English. My options of ambitions changed every month! My first option was to be a teacher. This was inspired to me by Madam Hilda. Her graceful way of teaching her noisy and disobedient students inspired me until I dream of wanting to teach. Every single afternoon when I was at the age of 10, I played student-teacher with my little brother. He would get really annoyed at me as he had gotten sick of it. Yet, I didn’t care.
     “Take your books out now!” I ordered Mark, my brother. I liked pretending to act like a teacher and tick home works’. It was good to feel in charge.

Eventually, I realized that being a Mat Rempit was so much better! I wanted to be a biker. I yearned to have those big sport bikes and drive like I own the road in town. Well, this only happened after I got psyched that Mr. Ramlan drives an awesome bike! Seriously, I would pass by the bike every morning since it is only parked near the school gate and I would just dream of myself in a hot black leather suit – that’s if I ever get slim – wearing the shiniest helmet ever made and be by my big bike.

Unfortunately, that particular ambition faded too. I suddenly wanted to be an architect, then a lawyer then an architect again. This is because of Mr. Joe now. See! Every teacher has their influence on me! You see, Mr. Joe’s hand writing grows bigger and bigger if your work impressed him. This signature of his made me realize that some things can just be created into a design. Every material has its curves and straightness and righteous in it. Therefore, I began to take interest in architecture and the righteous in everything to become a lawyer too.

It was a long time that I recalled the past, and then I stopped and stared back at the black page in the computer screen. My eyes weren’t leaking tears anymore. Instead, everything clicked as my face wrinkled in joy when I smiled gladly. I know what to write for the article now! I know the exact words, the exact feeling and the exact arrangements for every word. Why didn’t I think of this walk down memory lane a few days ago?

Eagerly, I typed down what was in my mind before it fades away and it’s now all in paper.

I am so proud that I used to study in SK Catholic English. Although the school provided a small roof, I managed to learn new meanings of friendship, I learned to respect each other there, I learned that everyone is the same and I learned to be a great student with high quality dedication.

When I fail, I try harder instead of breaking down and giving up. The teachers there had pushed me so far up that I’m so close to my dreams today. They expressed that there are no boundaries in achieving the best.