Cast From the Herd Excerpt #100: Back For The School's Third Term

 Cast From The Herd:  Memories of Matriarchal Malaysia

M. Bakri Musa

Excerpt # 100:  Back for the School’s Third Term

My former Malay College classmates Yusof Sidek, Wan Mahmud, and Ramli Ujang were in the inaugural class of the new medical faculty at the University of Malaya, Kuala Lumpur, which started that May 1963. One weekend Ramli visited me in my village to share his campus experience. He confirmed the stereotype I had of local lecturers. They were aloof; you dared not ask questions lest they would throw the book at you, Ramli related. As for his biochemistry class, his lecturer had not yet returned from his doctoral studies in London. For anatomy, another feared subject in medical school, Ramli said that they were given a cadaver per group of seven students and a dissection manual, and then left on their own. 

            That did not faze me; I had been doing that for biology at Malay College. Back at TMS during my last year there, I studied the entire last half of my class syllabus on my own. Nothing new or scary there! Being the pioneer class, Ramli’s batch received considerable national attention, and I envied him. 

            Meanwhile at my Sekolah Idris the second term was fast coming to a close for the short August holidays. One day my headmaster asked me if I would be back for the third term. Seeing that I would not leave for Canada until mid-September, I replied that I would. He was relieved. 

            We went over the syllabi. He was pleased that I was ahead in both classes. He confided that he was desperate to find my replacement and thus far had no luck. He pleaded with me to stay as long as possible. I was more than happy to oblige. 

            No science teachers, inadequate textbooks, and no biochemistry lecturer, at both high school and university levels. Why couldn’t the authorities plan better? Then they blame the students for not performing well!

            As for my poor students, their next few years, in fact their whole future, remained cloudy. The kindest view would be to regard them as pioneers blazing a new trail. In my heart however, I knew that they were but sacrificial lambs for a dubious cause. During those last few weeks I could barely look them in the eye. Those young innocent faces, so full of hope, were destined for great disappointments. 

            I wondered whether those leaders knew the impact of their policies. They were aware of the lack of teachers, books, and curricula; so why did they push hard the new untried system? Why not start small, test the model, correct the deficiencies, and once established, only then sell the idea? Those leaders must have had supreme confidence in their policies and their ability to execute them. Either that or they considered those young Malay minds expendable, cannon fodder for the nation’s battle for the supremacy of Malay language. 

            If that were so, then those innocent young souls should have been so told. At least then they could savor some sense of sacrifice. They and their parents would then not have their hopes soar so high. In their arrogance, those leaders zealously exhorted others to do their bidding, and those young promising minds bore the burden of their policies’ idiocies. 

            My second term holiday was consumed with preparing for my big trip to Canada. When the third term resumed, my students were surprised to see me back; they thought I would have been long gone. It was tough seeing them during those last few weeks. I felt a heavy burden. I realized that they would be stuck with one substitute teacher after another when I am gone. I consoled myself that they too could be blessed with a wonderful substitute teacher like Mr. Noh earlier who inspired me with Chairil Anwar’s poetry. 

            I tried to rush the syllabus, but the more I did the more resistance I encountered. Even normally diligent students balked, and I faced more disciplinary problems. One day my cousin and fellow teacher Baharuddin approached me. I was unsure what he was driving at, but he finally blurted out that there had been an ugly rumor that my scholarship had been withdrawn and that was why I was back for the third term. I assured him otherwise. Nonetheless he suggested that I should begin talking about my immediate future, of Canada, of becoming a doctor, in short anything to reassure my pupils that their teacher was not a flunky. No student wants a loser to be his teacher; hence their now less-than-respectful attitude towards me.

Next:  Excerpt #101: Threatening Clouds