"Tania! My friend asked if you want to teach at my school to ganti Pn. ** while she's on maternity leave"
"Me?? No lah, tak nak. I can't teach!"
And two weeks later, I found myself in a school I've never been to, as a teacher.
My mum's a teacher, has been for 20+ years now, and a few years ago she moved to this secondary school somewhere in Kuala Lumpur. Compared to the previous school she taught, this school gave her a bit of a headache, to say the least.
She was from a school where most students could speak perfect English, essays were 5 pages long, decent family background, living in a prestigious postcode.
Her new school was different. Students came from the rougher parts of this city, almost every student in her class were eligible for zakat, and most have lived without parents all their lives.
By no means does that have any correlation with their proficiency in English, but the language was definitely not a priority for them. These kids start working full-time adult jobs at the ages of 14 to support their families, studying wasn't a priority for them - can you imagine a whole other language?
My mum warned me beforehand about it, so the morning of, I mentally prepared myself.
I practiced a couple of stern expressions in front of my mirror, just in case these kids don't listen to me. I had a script, I practiced it again and again.
Yeah, alright.
This should be a breeze.
No, sit down right now, or else get out of my class.
Yup ok, sounds garang enough, I've got this.
Spoiler alert. Ended up saying none of those and more of a,
Err guys quiet please.. Guys.. please.
Boy, boy. Sit down please. Please stop wrestling your friends!
Put that bottle down pleaseeeeeee
Ok so maybe garang wasn't for me. So I tried a new tactic, I tried to become their friend.
They listen to their friends, so if I were to be one of them, they'd listen to me.
And true enough, they did. First order of business, please don't bring your textbooks.
I remember how useless they were, and what a pain it was to bring them to every English class.
At first I just couldn't comprehend why it was so hard for them to learn English. It felt so simple to me.
Then I put myself in their shoes. Learning a new language is tough, and you've got to get the right approach from the start for them to stick to it.
Just like how learning Korean is for me. I might sound like an idiot to a Korean native, but to those who don't know the language, I was a freaking genius.
Fortunately for me, the teacher I was taking over had a good mix of classes. A few first and second classes, and a couple of the back classes.
I treated the first week as a trial and error to test their level, to suit the materials I would then have to prepare.
As expected, it was a case of the two extremes. I had the first class of the form 5s, and they were a fun bunch to teach because 1) they were only 4 years younger, 2) I could use harder, mind-challenging materials that helped me too.
But what, I feel, changed me as a person and a student, was teaching the weaker students.
Sometimes I leave the classes with tears in my eyes, looking down while they say their standard "thank you"s, and sometimes I leave with such a warm heart and a smile.
I realised so many things teaching these kids. When I was doing my SPM back in school, I use to curse the ministry of education. Why is it so easy? How are we suppose to progress as a nation that prioritises English if I'm still learning tenses in form 5?!
Then I realised. I may find it easy, but these kids - living in KL! Can you imagine those outside the city? - don't even know the difference between "an" and "a".
But a teacher can only do so much for the students, and the rest is really up to them.
So when I teach classes that prefer to sleep through the entire 3 periods, I get so sad. Not so much because I didn't have the opportunity to teach, but because they don't give themselves the opportunity to learn.
And if they only knew how important the essentials are at this age.
Like I said, us as teachers can really do so much if they aren't willing to give it a go.
Even though there were many students like that, I never leave a class not teaching, even if one out of 26 students are listening.
That one student listening keeps me going. As the weeks went by, I realise that it's not that they don't want to do it, but they're so used to people giving up on them. I can't be one of those people who do.
This one boy, I won't name him, in one of the upper forms - he didn't know how to read, let alone write.
The class he was in, all the boys couldn't. But he stood out because his improvement within the four weeks I taught him was so impressive, I had to dedicate this paragraph to him.
Whenever I entered his class, I would have to personally give everyone a shake to wake them up from their slumber. But they'd continue sleeping anyway.
Not this one boy. He was always awake, and stayed awake.
He couldn't read, so I started there with some ladybug books I brought. Slow but steady progress.
I could still remember his face when he managed to read the entire 8-page book without my help.
Then he started speaking to me in English. He'll tell me to wait, as he constructs the sentence in his head for 5 minutes before finally saying,
But a teacher can only do so much for the students, and the rest is really up to them.
So when I teach classes that prefer to sleep through the entire 3 periods, I get so sad. Not so much because I didn't have the opportunity to teach, but because they don't give themselves the opportunity to learn.
And if they only knew how important the essentials are at this age.
Like I said, us as teachers can really do so much if they aren't willing to give it a go.
Even though there were many students like that, I never leave a class not teaching, even if one out of 26 students are listening.
That one student listening keeps me going. As the weeks went by, I realise that it's not that they don't want to do it, but they're so used to people giving up on them. I can't be one of those people who do.
This one boy, I won't name him, in one of the upper forms - he didn't know how to read, let alone write.
The class he was in, all the boys couldn't. But he stood out because his improvement within the four weeks I taught him was so impressive, I had to dedicate this paragraph to him.
Whenever I entered his class, I would have to personally give everyone a shake to wake them up from their slumber. But they'd continue sleeping anyway.
Not this one boy. He was always awake, and stayed awake.
He couldn't read, so I started there with some ladybug books I brought. Slow but steady progress.
I could still remember his face when he managed to read the entire 8-page book without my help.
Then he started speaking to me in English. He'll tell me to wait, as he constructs the sentence in his head for 5 minutes before finally saying,
"I want..go..t-tandas?"
"Oh, you want to go to the toilet? Yeah, alright. But five minutes only!"
"Ah yes yes, I want to go to the toilet!"
The next class, he could ask me the same question without hesitation and in full!
Then I started asking him, "How are you? Well?", to which he now asks me every single time he sees me outside class. It's so cute!
Ok cue the music, here's the sad story behind his illiteracy, but also his burning desire to learn.
He never knew what a home was. At the age of 7, his parents gave him up to a home because they had no money to raise him up. He had no other siblings.
He stayed with his grandfather, who was equally as poor but willing to take him in, but eventually went into a home after the passing of his grandfather.
The home he was in was specifically for children with parents whom are still alive, but could not afford their children's living costs.
He told me he has seen some of his friends in the home get visits from their parents during result day.
It's been a good year and a half since he saw his mom, and he doesn't have high hopes seeing her anytime soon, but when he does, he wants his mom to brag about him to everyone.
Not knowing whether or not your parents want to see you, but having so much hope they do.
I couldn't hold my tears (thank God the other students were fast asleep), and so I asked him if he was okay, to which he replied, "Takpa, cikgu. Saya okay. Dah dekat 10 tahun dah ni, takkan belum terbiasa dah".
He said that with such a steady tone, as if he has been telling himself that for so many years to actually believe those words. I know for a fact he is, and probably will always be, really sad.
When I told my mom this, she said she has heard sadder, more heart-breaking stories.
I used to always judged these notorious kids so quick, but actually getting to know them has taught me so much about them, and myself.
There really is more than meets the eye, and they really aren't as frightening as they seem.
The more I taught, the more I learned; about people, about myself, and about life.
Hardships can be a blessing in disguise to some, but sometimes it breaks people.
And feeling broken can turn people into stronger beings, like the boy I talked about, and sometimes it takes you down a bad, slippery slope, and you end up becoming someone you never wanted to be.
Some of these kids I teach, they do what they do (tarnish their school records) because that's the only way they get attention from their parents. Some do it because they have to seek attention from somewhere or someone else.
People do things for a reason, no one just becomes who they are without any influence.
I get these kids, they've got to let it out somewhere, and since they - by law - are required to be in school most of their youth, they let it out here.
So all we have to do now is to understand, and give them enough attention so they wouldn't need to express their desperation for it on other things.
He stayed with his grandfather, who was equally as poor but willing to take him in, but eventually went into a home after the passing of his grandfather.
The home he was in was specifically for children with parents whom are still alive, but could not afford their children's living costs.
He told me he has seen some of his friends in the home get visits from their parents during result day.
It's been a good year and a half since he saw his mom, and he doesn't have high hopes seeing her anytime soon, but when he does, he wants his mom to brag about him to everyone.
Not knowing whether or not your parents want to see you, but having so much hope they do.
I couldn't hold my tears (thank God the other students were fast asleep), and so I asked him if he was okay, to which he replied, "Takpa, cikgu. Saya okay. Dah dekat 10 tahun dah ni, takkan belum terbiasa dah".
He said that with such a steady tone, as if he has been telling himself that for so many years to actually believe those words. I know for a fact he is, and probably will always be, really sad.
When I told my mom this, she said she has heard sadder, more heart-breaking stories.
I used to always judged these notorious kids so quick, but actually getting to know them has taught me so much about them, and myself.
There really is more than meets the eye, and they really aren't as frightening as they seem.
The more I taught, the more I learned; about people, about myself, and about life.
Hardships can be a blessing in disguise to some, but sometimes it breaks people.
And feeling broken can turn people into stronger beings, like the boy I talked about, and sometimes it takes you down a bad, slippery slope, and you end up becoming someone you never wanted to be.
Some of these kids I teach, they do what they do (tarnish their school records) because that's the only way they get attention from their parents. Some do it because they have to seek attention from somewhere or someone else.
People do things for a reason, no one just becomes who they are without any influence.
I get these kids, they've got to let it out somewhere, and since they - by law - are required to be in school most of their youth, they let it out here.
So all we have to do now is to understand, and give them enough attention so they wouldn't need to express their desperation for it on other things.
The teacher I replaced is now back from her leave, so I'm currently jobless.
But another teacher will be going off for her maternity leave (some kind of baby boom happenin' at that school..), and I'll be restarting teaching the last week of this month.
And contrary to how I felt before I started, I absolutely can't wait.
But another teacher will be going off for her maternity leave (some kind of baby boom happenin' at that school..), and I'll be restarting teaching the last week of this month.
And contrary to how I felt before I started, I absolutely can't wait.
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