Cast From The Herd: Memories of Matriarchal Malaysia
M. Bakri Musa
Excerpt # 92: Duties of a Prefect
Part of a prefect’s duty was to supervise evening “prep” or study hours. Three classes – Forms Four and Five Science, and Form Four “D” Arts – were the least popular with the prefects, and for opposite reasons. Sixth Formers did not need supervision; they were deemed adult enough.
The science boys were unpopular because of their brilliance and perhaps arrogance. They were aware that science was now emphasized and that they were the new privileged group. They had a reputation of making fools of their supervising prefects, especially those they deemed less-endowed intellectually, meaning the jocks. The D class presented a problem at the other end of the spectrum. Malaysian schools stream their students in order of merit, with the top students in the A class, the next in B, and so on. The D class needed no elaboration. Form Four being the ‘honeymoon’ year (no year-end national examination) only aggravated the situation. It was my luck to be assigned those three classes most often. I thought long and hard on how to manage them. An early error and I would be shark’s bait, triggering a feeding frenzy.
Hadi told me that the science boys would test you on your first session by bringing up a tough problem on the pretext of seeking your assistance. If you could not help them, then someone from the class would come up and solve it on the board, thus reducing you to a dimwit. As for the D class, Hadi advised me to establish my authority early so they would not dare test me later. If I were to give any leeway in the beginning, he warned me, they would take advantage of that and I would lose all control.
The first class I had to supervise was Form Four Science. Hadi was right; they were so predictable but I was ready. As luck would have it, they gave me a problem that Mr. Brown had tackled it in my class the previous year. The one thing that I remembered about that particular problem was that the answer given at the end of the book was wrong, a typo. That class assignment also revealed how far ahead that class (and Malay College) was by this time in that Mr. Brown had given them the same problem to Form Four what he had given to us at Lower Six only a year earlier.
So I went to the board and solved the equation, explaining every step. Then just as I arrived at the answer, someone shouted from the back, “You’re wrong!” There was a smattering of snickering. “I checked the answer at the end of the book!” he heckled me.
“In that case, the book is wrong!” I fired back. “Check with your teacher tomorrow.”
The class was quiet; my casual and arrogant assertion had stunned them. From then on I had full control. I had established my alpha status, and so early too, in the only way that carried weight with that crowd, by demonstrating my presumed mathematical prowess.
I had an easier time with the Form Five Science class. I had known them earlier through our science club. The year before, they were in the inaugural Form Four Science class. After they had heard during the introduction night that my old school in Kuala Pilah had had its science class years earlier, they already had some respect for me and my old TMS. Their class monitor Ariffin Aton, also a prefect, commanded considerable respect among his classmates, and his favorable attitude towards me eased my introduction to them. That class also had the important Sixth Form Entrance and end-of-year national examinations coming up. As such they were more focused.
The Form Four “D” Arts class gave me the most dyspepsia. To begin with, the students were so much bigger, older-looking, and very intimidating. Perhaps they were those war-time babies whose parents had forgotten their actual birth dates when they had to register their births after the war, hence their “precocious” physical developments. Their favorite trick, so I was told by my fellow Prep School prefect Hadi, was to have the meekest boy approach the new prefect at that first session for permission for a bathroom break. The prefect, sensing an easy target, would fall for the trap of denying the request so as to establish that all-important first impression of “personal authority.” At that point the boy would then wet his pants, by breaking a water balloon in his pocket or perhaps he was truly peeing. Either way, the class would have roared into laughter and the prefect lost any hope of control.
Sure enough the class pulled that same stunt the moment I sat down. However, instead of denying the request I let him go. The poor befuddled fellow was lost, his script no longer operative, but he recovered and took his break. Soon there was a line-up and I had an impending crowd-control crisis.
I stood up and with a calm, firm voice said, “Look, I really couldn’t care less whether you study or not, but I have to. I have tests to prepare for and lab reports to write.” I paused and waited till they all returned to their seats before continuing. “You all can go to the bathroom, but on one condition. One at a time! As soon as that first boy returns, the next in line can go.”
Having set the ground rules so clearly, I then sat down and focused on my own work. That entire evening there were perhaps at most four boys leaving for their lavatory break. I had given them freely what they thought was a prized commodity, and suddenly it was no longer a bone of contention.
I felt like a satisfied praying mantis; all I did was be myself, remained quiet, and they all fell right into my trap. I would not say that I did not have further problems but my time with them became much more tolerable most of the time and even enjoyable some of the time.
New prefects were on probation for the first term. I was never told what the conditions were to be confirmed. Absent such guidelines, the void was filled with traditions and assumptions. One was that new prefects must meet their quota of students sent to detention class. I had difficulty with that. First, being at prep school I would be dealing with new young pupils who were unlikely to pose disciplinary problems. Second, I did not feel right snooping around just to meet my quota. If they were flagrantly abusing the rules, then I would take the necessary action, and that would not always mean detention. So I ignored the presumed quota. Besides, that presumed quota made new prefects the target for ridicule and taunting from the other students.
Whatever it was, whether the students were afraid to break the rules in my presence or I had been derelict in my duties, I did not send anyone for detention. That surely was a record at Malay College. I did issue a few warnings. At the last assembly of the first term, all new prefects were confirmed. I could now don my school tie and special maroon blazer; it fitted me perfectly, in style and color.
That trademark tie and maroon blazer aside, I was honored to have been made prefect. It was humbling to be in a group that included some of the most illustrious names in the country. On a more pragmatic level, I had the luxury of a private room so I could study.
Next: Excerpt # 93: Annual Speech Day And Sports Meet
