Summary of first year in University: Intro

Adapting to the ever changing , growing up , making silly and painful mistakes, seeking for the right companions and struggling hard to survive the next day.

A year isn't really a long time. It can pass in just the twinkle of an eye. A year, sometimes isn't even long enough to allow a person to completely understand another nor himself. It isn't long enough for a student to learn the vast knowledge in this world. It isn't long enough for two lovers to feel that they have loved each other enough.

But a year... It is long enough to make a person feel tired. It is long enough to change a person's perception on something he used to believe in. It is long enough to make one feels confused. It is enough to make a confident person doubt himself.


Exactly a year ago, I was still wondering and feeling all excited about the life of a university student, just like a new born baby feeling excited about what life on earth can offer him.
I still haven't forgotten going to the internet goggling for the "Dos and don't s in college", asking friends who already had gone into colleges and universities to share out their experience and interesting stories, and I would enthusiastically listen to them and asked tons of questions; just like a child would excitedly listen to bed time stories and asked what happened to princes and princesses after the stories.




A year in university now. I have seen and experienced lives in university. I don't just listen to people's stories anymore. I am now a stories teller myself.


To be continued....

1st post in 2011 (Time elapse)

Can't describe how time has passed. It is the 21th of March 2011.

This is the very 1st time I really sit down and decided to click into my blog page to post something on my blog again after almost 11 months not producing anything on it.

"Bahawasanya kami, pelajar-pelajar Universiti Sains Malaysia, Berikar...."

I could still remember waking up that morning unwilling, annoyed by the multiple alarms set by my roommate which shook me up from my comfortable sleep at 5.30 in the morning while I could still sleep for another half an hour or so.

Having brushed my teeth, I opened my closet and took out my white Alian Delon, my tailor-made black trousers, silky black Suave tie, leathery black belt and my nicely-polished black leather shoes which made me feel proud wearing them every time. I transformed myself from the PJ I was wearing into the outfit that I thought would had best represented me. Black and white. Simple yet classy.

The program on that day was a grand one. The committees of the event made us rehearsed for it a few times before this. The ceremony would started with the arrival of the VC, followed by the singing of the song of university and then the speech by the VC and then...

Back then, we were not really interested in the ceremony. For us it was just another made-compulsory-program that every 1st year student must follow. I could confidently say that most of the students were more interested in talking to the new faces sitting beside them while some would rather physically forced to stay in ceremony but mentally fantasized themselves laying on their cozy hostel beds. I was one of the former.

I was seated in between two new faces. Both looked smart and interesting. However I talked to only one. Turned out that I am now closer with the other one that I didn't talk to that day.

The ceremony finally started. The member of the hall stood up for the arrival of the VC. Followed by the song and then the speech and so on as planned and as rehearsed.

I would say the climax of the ceremony would be the student's vow. Everyone rose, prepared in the vow reading position with right hand raised and there went the oath:

"Bahawasanya kami, pelajar-pelajar Tahun Satu University Sains Malaysia, Berikar...."

I have to admit, the moment was glorious. Everyone had the fire burning in their souls. The fire of passion and determination; also the urge to prove to everyone sitting beside, at the front and the back that we deserved being selected by the university based on both academically and non-academically. We all believed that we were the best of the best.

9 months gone. Time has passed. So has that belief.

Looking at the picture that I have been tagged by one of my friends reminded me of the oath that I have forgotten; the little promise that I had whispered to myself during the ceremony.

"Today, I have finally become a university student. I will study hard, be an excellent student. Perform my best in everything that I do. Be extraordinary. Make my family proud."

Thanks to the friend who has tagged me on this picture. Now I have waken up from my sleep. The mist that was surrounding me is gone. I can remember the reason I am here in the 1st place.

Bahawasanya kami, Pelajar-pelajar Tahun Satu University Sains Malaysia, Berikar...

My mama. (Mother's day special)

It's May. May is the month to commemorate the many achievements of people and the work they do. People of all kinds. People who work and get paid like doctors, teachers, lawyers, police, etc. and also the people who work and don't get paid, like our mums. They are all celebrated in the month of May - Labour Day, Mother's day and then Teacher's day.

But today I'm going to focus on the 9th of May 2010, Mother's Day.

Friends who know me well enough know that I always have issues with my mum. "Stubborn", "overprotective", "conservative", "old-fashioned"and "annoying" are words I often use to describe my mum. I must have been damn good at convincing people to always have my friends standing by my side every time my mum and I have a fight. They agree with me too that my mum can be a difficult mother.

Mother's day is not such a big day for me. I have not celebrated this day in 20 years - since the very day I come into this world. So, the "buying of flower", "planning a surprise party for mother" or simply the "Happy Mother's Day, mum" said on mother's day have never been marked on my yearly planner.

It's not that I hate my mum. I just don't celebrate Mother's Day. It's that I have not been brought up to celebrate these special days. I never have, except my birthday and my sister's.

So you must be wondering how I think about my mum and whether I love my mum or not since I don't celebrate Mother's Day.

Well, you are about to know...

When I was in kindergarten, I hated rainy days. This was because when it was raining, she would come. My mother, she would come to school with her old bicycle to get me home.

I didn't like it. The reason is simple. When my mum came, I was no more the cool guy all my kindergarten buddies used to believe.

They would find out that I was not as rich as I said. They would know that I didn't have a personal driver. They would be aware that the big car I said my father used to have doesn't exist.

And above all... I was not cool anymore. when my fat, ugly mum with boy-cut hair, wearing colour-washed-out T-shirt and cheap pants showed up with her old bicycle, a huge umbrella in her hand and a big smile on her face.


"Kong Zai!! I told you to stay in the class room and not to come out to the corridor when it's raining. See you have got your school shoes wet already. Tomorrow you are going to school bare-footed" speaking in her usual voice which she uses to bargain in the pasar while rubbing my hands and legs with the old rag she brought from home.

I could see my buddies all peeking from the classroom with their teasing smiles.

"Argh... didn't I tell you not to come so early when it's raining? Not before all my friends are gone." I reminded her angrily and rolled my eyes.

"You think I'm free to come any time? Mei mei is with grandmother and I still need to cook or you won't have dinner to eat tonight," replied my mum, a little annoyed and unhappy to hear what I had just said.

From the basket of the bicycle my mum took out the ugliest attire in the world. The super-large, ill-fitting, yellow rain coat.

"Now shut up and put this on already. We are going home. Hurry up!!"

I definitely was very embarrassed to get "wrapped up" in the yellow plastic. I would rather have myself all wet than to have that on.

Had struggled with the rain coat, the next humiliation was getting onto the back of the bicycle and have my buddies waving goodbye to me from inside their cars.

They were so lucky.

They had nice cars to fetch them home on rainy days.

They didn't have to wear the "yellow piece of plastic" around their bodies.

And...

They had slim and beautiful mums.

The rain was getting heavier and heavier. The extra large umbrella was not even enough to cover up my fat mother. As a result, at the back of my mum there was always a big patch of water mark. Caused by both her sweat and the rain. And she had to ride the bicycle very hard and sometimes even strained herself over her own body weight plus my weight (I was the fattest boy in my class).

I did notice that. But I didn't feel the slightest bit of sorry for her because I was so obsessed with being angry that I didn't feel anything else other than embarrassed and angry.

Now I have grown up, I no longer ride at the back of the bicycle because I can ride on my own. I am not as fat. I don't wear the rain coat anymore on rainy days. I can hold my bicycle with one hand and an umbrella with the other.

Many things are different now. Some things are still the same.

My mum still has her extra large umbrella.

When it rains, she still come looking for me in case I have forgetten my umbrella.

She still has the same big smile on her face when she sees me, just like when I was in kindergarten.

She still is fat and ugly, with boy-cut hair, cheap clothes and even older-looking now.

That's her.

The fat, blurred figure from afar in the rain holding an umbrella while riding her bicycle. That's my mum.

Every time it rains. I feel embarrassed. I feel ashamed that I failed to notice my fat, ugly mum. Instead I turned my head away and inside me I heard " How I wish had a richer and more beautiful mum."

Now I understand. I don't need a richer mum or a more beautiful mum. I like my mum just the way she is.

End of story.

You must be thinking that from now on I'll respect my mum more, appreciate her more, celebrate Mother's Day with her.

But no.

I will still fight and argue with my mum when I think she is being overprotective. But I won't stop loving my old, fat, ugly mum.

Till death us do apart.

Happy Mother's Day, Mum.

Mum and Estevan

Cikgu Lee's last day in school.

Everything has a dateline. Every application has a closing date. Every food in the supermarket has an expiring date. My job too, has a date where I will be terminated.

I know that day will somehow come. I just didn't expect it to come so soon. I thought it would be longer. Maybe someday when I have fed up with the greeting "Lao si Jao An" or "Selamat Pagi Cikgu". Or at least it will wait until I have done something fulfilling like to help a dumb kid to get 100 marks in exam. It seems I haven't done anything at all. But then it's already time for me to say goodbye.

Time is always in such a hurry with its hyper speed that when you come to realize it everything has already turned into history.

The day was still dark when I woke up. Like the usual, I had cereal for my breakfast. In the bathroom the water was as cold when it ran down my body and gave me the chills like every other morning. That day I purposely picked my best dress in my closet, I spent more time than usual in front of the mirror just because I thought I want to leave everybody in the school a good last impression.

There used to be a long conversation on the journey to school in the car which I car pool with a senior teacher. But that day, it was just silence.

"Tomorrow, you won't have to wake up this early anymore. So good." my senior colleague tried to break the silence by kicking start a joke.
"Yeah..." I answered short.

Obviously, the joke didn't go so well. Maybe, last day is meant to be quiet and more to the reminisce and appreciating in silence.

When I walked into the office I had all the attention of the other senior teachers. They all knew. But they still asked.

"Last day?"

"Yes."

Had my butt on the seat and my bag in its usual place, I started my routine-mind-wonder.

"Well, let's see. I have 6 periods today. Should I be teaching or doing something different? Like giving an inspirational speech on 'why human needs to study'? Or an emotional heart-to-heart talk with my students on my last day?"

My lesson had come. I walked into my standard 2 class room and then greeted by the long, dragging greeting "Laooooooo.......siiiiiiiiiii.....jaooooooo.......annnnnnnn". I carried out the first period by asking the students to read their text book and allowed them to ask questions like what I used to do.

For second period, I asked everybody to close the book. And then I broke the news to them.

"For your information class, I won't be coming to school tomorrow, the day after tomorrow and so on." I just thought they will understand what I meant.

To my horror, there was instant change of mood in the class!! Most of them become freshen up, and started to cheer and clapping their hands. My god....
Oh.... that was not what I expected.

One student some more added this, "You better not be kidding us. If I see you tomorrow, you are so going to die. I'll tell the principal you lied to us."

I felt a little angry, sad and hurt at the same time. I grabbed hold of the plastic bag of key chains that I had prepared earlier that I planned to give to every each of them as souvenir.

I took in deep breath and said to myself, "Ok, they are still young and they are 8 years old. They meant no harm saying that."

What can I still be expecting from them after all? The crazy, mean and evil Cikgu Lee who gave them homework like mountains and punished them when they "forget" their homework finally is going to be gone!!! I will cheer too if I were one of the students.

Okay then. Last day should be the craziest and most evil. I asked all the students to line up in front of the class room.

"I am going to beat each of you 10 times with this cane I have in my hand so that you will remember me after I have gone." I tried to scare them.

"You can choose to go back to your seat if you don't wish to remember me.", I continued.

In just 2 seconds, the row of students disappear.

Only one left.
"Are you sure you want to be beaten? I'll really beat, you know" I confirmed him.

"Yes. I want to remember you." having said that, he raised out his hand.

I dropped my cane and smiled to him. Inside I just felt so touched. At least one student. Even he was never my favourite as he was not the best in his class and was the weaker ones. I beat him quite often as he never study for his spelling I gave.

One student.... at least there is one.

That's something.

The school bell rang. It was recess time again. I had vegetarian porridge (carrot with potato) that day. One of the teacher cooked it for me. So sweet~ (not the porridge)

Finally, it was my finally period that day with my standard 4. We were having Home Science class and that day we were going into work room to complete their recycle project.

I was already very disappointed with my standard 2 students. And thus, the idea of giving inspirational speech and emotional heart-to-heart had faded.

Coincidentally, 2 groups of students never brought their project to school.

Aha... time to let go my fury that I had kept so long inside. I gave them some good scoldings and punished them to copy passages in the text book exactly like what was in the text book including the pictures and the patterns that make the passage interesting to read, as if they were photostatting machines.

I didn't have enough money to buy so many key chains therefore I made them bookmarks.

I made them just the night before. There were 30 of them and so I stayed till very late at night to have all the bookmarks cut into the similar shape.

Bookmarks: Actually the bookmarks are in feather-shape. Nothing much written on the bookmark as the time was running short. I just put on a few words on them... "Study hard, good luck..." follow by their individual names.

There wasn't any ceremony to give out those bookmarks. I just walked to the groups one by one and distributed the bookmarks.

They were just surprised but not really enthused to receive my bookmark. Maybe they still feel a little depressed and angry with my scoldings few minutes ago.

Almost time to go. I told them the news that I'll be leaving:

"Well, today is my last day in school. You don't have to see my annoying face anymore after today. But now, you'll still need to obey me even you don't feel quite like to. I haven't lost all my power yet. Not today. Those who haven't finished copying the passages or that I'm not satisfied with what you have copied, you are not allowed to go home today." I tried to threaten them.

Oh...the "You cannot go back home" sentence really worked!! Some students panicked and cried.

"You don't cry in front of me. That's not going to change the fact that you can't go home today. So stop crying" I found it funny to fool with them just before I left.

The crying didn't stop.

The bell rang again. That indicates my last day in school was over.

"All right then. You can stop copying. Just make sure you don't do the same mistake again. Alright?"

That's what teachers do, right? Saying not to allow their students to go home if homework not done but then they don't really do that.

Another reason, the students had to have their lunch before their co-curriculum activities began. It was Wednesday.

So I freed them, looking at their backs leaving one by one.

And then there was only me in the empty work room......

I went back to the office and then started to pack my stuffs preparing to leave the school.

An aunt who worked in the canteen came into the office and complained to the teacher in charge of student's affair that a standard 4 was rude that he refused to take his lunch and cried his way back to the classroom.

Oh my lord, I didn't beat the student. I didn't humiliate the students so badly that they would refuse their lunch.

The teacher went to the boy's classroom to find out what was wrong.

In the meantime, I just started to panic and quicken my packing speed. Hopefully I would make it to step out the school gate before the teacher was back with the student and I had to apologize to the student for scaring them out.

Done packing. Rush my steps out of the office. But.... damn it. The teacher was back. And called my name.

"Cikgu Lee", my name was heard from the other door of the office.

Sweet god....

"Yes?" I tried to remain calm.

Good. No student was by her side.

"You made the standard 4 boys cried.", the teacher said.

"Oh...", I was speechless.

"They said their hearts feel heavy for your leaving.", the teacher smiled.

"Oh, what? Can't be...", I was disbelieved and feel a rush of emotion.

At that scene my tears almost drop out. But I got it controlled...

The standard 4 students that I yelled, beat and scolded most cried for me?

They are not the best students in the school, but they are definitely my favourite ones.

So much for teaching.

So much for my last day in school.

I can finally said this out loud....

"My mission has completed!"

Memoirs of a replacement teacher

Before I started teaching,

I used to believe that the job of a teacher is damn easy.

I used to expect the job of a teacher to be solely passing on knowledge.

I used to see teaching as second class job.

I used to think that the cane is never the best solution for kids' problems and I swore I won't use it if I'm the teacher.
I used to be angry and annoyed when teachers make me read a passage again and again.

I used to complain when a teacher give more than two homework in a day.

I used to have the dream that I'll be the loving teacher every student love and adore.

I used to.... a lot of things before I actually become a teacher.



After I have finished teaching. And...

Now that I understand, teacher is not as easy a job as I first thought it was.

Now that I discover, that a teacher doesn't just pass on knowledge but also have to shape what's inside of his students.

Now that I know that the cane is the only method to use on kids when all other softer methods have failed to prove their effectiveness.

Now that I realize, the teachers meant good when they asked me to read a passage over and over again.

Now that I see, all the homework will eventually end up on the teachers' tables.

Now that I come to know, the teachers have to do the homework too before marking them in order for them to point out what the students have done wrong.

Now that I realize, the thought of me being surrounded by students who love and adore me is really just a dream.

Now that I understand, students will still celebrate and cheer when you say you are leaving.

Now that I know, students won't appreciate me as much as how I appreciate them.

Now that I am a teacher.... I realize how lousy a teacher I have been.

I miss being a child.

I realized being 20 years old...


I no longer play in the drain,

my parents cupboard is too small for my body to hide,

I switch channel when the TV is showing cartoon,

my school bag is become lighter and lighter,

I spend more time looking in the mirror,

I don't cry out loud, I cry silently,

I don't forgive people easily,

I always make parents unhappy...


It wasn't too long ago when I was little. Just like the school kids in my school.

Being their teacher, I don't just teach; I take the opportunity to watch them too.

They makes me reminisce about my childhood...

where I was so happy that I smile and laugh from within, where I was care-free that I fall asleep once I lay on the bed, where I forget everything sad once I wake up the next morning, where I can make mistakes and not feeling guilty... just like them.


Now,I couldn't just smile without feeling bitter in the inside,

couldn't sleep without wearing out my body first,

couldn't wake up without nightmares still haunting me,

couldn't stop blaming myself for the mistake that I made...


I miss those days when I was a child...

Have you a mum like mine?

People I know always say this to me - "I'm so jealous you have a mum like that, I just wish my mum could be more like yours."

I am 20 years old and still have a mum who wakes me up every morning like an alarm clock and serve me breakfast as early as 6.30am. As the clock hits 7.00am, I will be heading to school in my nicely ironed uniform, well polished leather shoes and fully stocked stomach.

When I'm home from school, lunch will always be on the kitchen table. Never have I in my life worry about what to eat for dinner either. As my mom is a good cook.

If I fall sick, she will stay the half-awake-night by my bedside and monitor me till tomorrow's sun raises.

Anything that comes across her head that is best for her little boy, she makes sure he will get it. The healthiest food, the warmest cloth, the best education, the best health care, the fullest protection and the unconditional love. She always managed them.

My mum just seems so perfect and she has always been my best gift from god.

She is my wingless angel.

But...

One thing.

I don't think she does it quite right.

Let me tell you one story which has never been told to anyone before...



Once upon a time, there lived a mother and a son. The mother loves the son, and the son loves the mother too. One day, the son came home running towards the mother. Hugged her. And started to cry at his full volume.

The mother was confused and asked, "What's the matter, boy?"

The Son said, "I was bullied."

The mother started to concern, "Who bullied you? How?"

The son reached his hand into his backpack and took out a piece of scrappy drawing paper to show the mother.

"They teased me. They said I can't draw and I can't paint. They said my drawing is ugly. I am angry. I feel sad, mommy." had that said, the son put his face against the mother chest and continue crying again.

"It's okay boy, mommy's here. All right. All right. Stop the tears." The mother stroke the son's head. Inside, she felt as sad.

Since then, the mother helped in every drawings the son had. The mother made sure the son's drawings were the best in his class and would be displayed in the school corridor.

As time passed, the son developed some kind of laziness and dependency on the mother for his drawings. From helping in the first place, the mother slowly took over the whole task. The drawings became the mother's homework. But the mother did that too for his innocent little boy who was 7 years old.

That makes the son's life even easier after that. The beautiful drawings were hung on the school corridor every week. Praises after praises from students and teachers. Sometimes, the teachers even get suspicious about the fantastically drawn pictures.

And then, the mother had to teach the son how to get over the teachers with lies.

The son grew up..

Finally at some point, the son had to draw by himself. Then, the son realized that he couldn't. He started to notice something was wrong. Due to certain reason, the mother wasn't able to draw for the son anymore. So, the son had to draw his own drawings.

The praises disappeared and the drawings by the son were no longer displayed at the school's corridor.

However, after some time. Drawings from the boy were seen on the corridor again. Surprisingly, the drawings were not from the mother. They were from the boy!! The boy was found to have some talents in drawing by his teacher.


- The End -


How do you find the mother in the story?

Very loving mother?

Undoubtedly, the mother in the story loves her son. But not in the right way. She is overprotective over her son so much so that she crossed the line.

If, the mother didn't take over the son's drawings in the first place.... If, the mother refuses to draw the son's drawings but to just assist and encourage by his side, the son would have discover his ability in drawing earlier. And the son wouldn't need to feel guilty for the lies and the fake praises from his teachers and friends, instead would enjoy real joy in art.

The mother loves wrong.

The mother has limited the son's growth by being overprotective.

The son grow less with his mother's love.

The mother loves the son. The son gets it. But this isn't really how the mother should love the son.

The little boy is me.

Mum, won't you understand that?