It's January, and that means it's time for kids in my home country to re-enter the school’s gate. To some people, going back to school is a much looked forward occasion, having lost touch for 7 weeks. To others, it is just another loathsome woe of having to adhere the long list of school’s disciplinary (never eat titbits being on the No: 1, with vulgar words losing by a whisker). I guess I belonged to the latter group of people. I never like school, and it is definitely not just avoiding school’s endless disciplinary list. It is something more…..and it lies deeply embedded in my heart……right here….in my chest. And yes, I played truancy well before I enter school formally. I remember vividly playing truancy in my kindergarten….and you know, I was caught and never to be allowed back to class by my old man. In all fairness, I don't blame him for taking his disappointment on me, nor would I blame myself for taking that one bold step. Yes, "One little step by me, one giant leap for the truant fraternity." I was sent to a kindergarten at my Kulai Besar estate whilst my elder brother had his pre-school at St Andrew’s Kindergarten (yup, the kindergarten that supplied Ovaltine for tea breaks). I don't suppose I need to say anymore apart from the fact the names of the kindergarten suggested they are worlds apart. And so whilst others marched into the class with that experience of school life, I entered Standard One literally a fresher of the freshies. 
I am not aware if early recollection of childhood memories is a good thing but I definitely remember my 1st day at school 42 years ago. I woke up pretty early that faithful day, well before the morning sun blazed through the dews of dawn, and wore for the 1st time a school uniform. A white cotton shirt, stubbornly ironed off the excessive starching, and a very light blue short pants. Of course, there was the same old pair of white shoes and socks, with a matching school bag. Not bad, and believe it or not, I was then, as opposed to now, a rather cheerful little under-nourished boy who gingerly awaits to enter school. Mum, together with my blur brother, took me to school on the momentous day. And so, I enter Standard One Yellow with Miss Sinathamby as my school teacher….. (Damn! I can still remember her name). As fate has it, I wouldn't have imagined that I would spend a longer school life that most people when I ironically ‘ponteng’ my kindergarten class! Haizzzzzz! Had anyone told me, on my 1st school day, that I would go all the way and ends with a doctorate degree…….I will, without any doubts, ponteng again!
I don't remember myself crying like many others and I certainly don't recall myself smiling amongst the grim faces of 7 years old. Mum left the moment she led me into the class, and my merciless brother didn't even bother to buy me anything during recess. I was left to fend for myself, without knowing a word of English. That much, I still remember and, yes, pocket money was 15 cents then. I suspect that very day I went home empty stomach but I am not about to vouch for it, for I am sure my merciless brother felt the guilt all these years for not taking care of his little brother.
The first English word that came into my attention is not apple, bag, cat, or even dog. It is none other than ELEPHANT. Till this day, it remains a total mystery to me why I always have an affection for the word ELEPHANT. I don't like the animal, I just like the word. I have no explanation to that word except I knew how to write and spell it pretty early in my life. Even till today, whenever I come across this word, be it in newspaper or books, I would subconsciously read the word at least three more times. Pretty weird, isn’t it? The word ELEPHANT is about the only thing I remember about Standard One……errrrrr apart the fact that I had a crush for a classmate…..hahahah. I don't know if this has something to do with the body or the brain, but I definitely had a crush for a sweet little girl then. The next time such crush appeared in my life was during my Standard Six but different girl! In between the six years, I was just another naughty boy with no cravings for the opposite sex. I was more interested in looking out the windows and drifting my soul away into my dreamland. It was, afterall, during an era where even if nothing were to happen, it could be spectacularly fun. Nah, I was just trying to be jokingly funny…it was during an era of instabilities. Communist leaflets were found everywhere, the country is still 10 years after independence and tear gases were let off in abundance. Our only consolation was……Miss Sinathamby generously gave us Van Houten chocolates to soothe the piercing effect of the tear gas. What a good teacher she was!
Looking back at those innocent years, I can only say a few comforting words. Although I still don't like schooling, the school years had been the most eventful times of my life. And I say this to all parents, of all colours, that if you have a child that plays truancy and dreams for much of his times, it doesn't necessary mean your child is a non-achiever. It merely implies you have a ‘gifted’ child on hand and you need all the patience you can find to nurture his growth.
Postscript: Have you ever gone through the experience of holding your bowels, and your teacher relentlessly refused your permission to leave the class?
Student: Please teacher may I go out?
Teacher: No
Student: blaaaaa………hohohohoho
What a mess!!!
Note: The student is not me, and the teacher is not Miss Sinathamby.
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