Cast From The Herd: Memories of Matriarchal Malaysia
M. Bakri Musa
Excerpt # 87: Bucking The Entrenched Trend
A few of us new Six Formers refused to submit to this culture of academic mediocrity now entrenched at Malay College. We resolved to defy this destructive anti-intellectual ambience, and do so not by pontificating but through our personal examples. We would show them that we were not at all embarrassed in studying hard, or “mugging.” We did not care less if we were to be branded as not being gifted.
Ramli related a conversation he overheard among the fifth-formers who were about to sit for their Sixth Form Entrance Examination, the ordeal Ramli and I went through a year earlier. Noting that their earlier schoolmates had managed to secure at best only Cs, they wondered whether there were any As and Bs given out. To them those were imaginary scores, unattainable. Ramli stunned them when he said that our old school, TMS, had produced many.
Part of our strategy was to study in the open, in libraries, our dorms, and at prep time regardless of the ridicule that would be hurled our way. We would not hide the fact that we were studious, or “nerdy” in today’s parlance. We promised to support each other when we felt that we were being mocked, and developed a strategy to rescue each other. Were someone to intrude, interfere, or in any way distract anyone of us, we would rescue him on the pretext of asking something related to our school work, anything that would interrupt and discourage the social chatter. I could not tell whether our “veteran” classmates noticed what we were up to, but it worked. We could study without being interrupted or teased. I must admit that there were times when I too wanted to take things easy.
The college was capable of academic excellence. When J.D.R. Howell was headmaster (1953-58), he instituted and emphasized daily “prep” in the afternoons and evenings. That was the only time the college excelled. However, nobody subsequently made the crucial connection. That was the tragedy of Malay College.
The deteriorating academic standard concerned the teachers, as expected. It reflected on their professionalism. At that time I did not think they could do much beyond urging the students to “study hard.” Little did I know that the academic staff had initiated some radical changes! The setting up of the science stream at Form Four that year was one. There was another significant but more subtle initiative. Elucidating that requires some major digression, and I will put that aside for now.
Teachers at Malay College had duties beyond that of their colleagues at day schools. Through their other duties they interacted with and knew their students well and thus could influence them. Earlier I related Mr. Norton’s and Ryan’s critical roles in dissuading Noramly Muslim not to abandon his Sixth Form. My encounter with Mr. Chen during that expedition up Maxwell Hill was another example. The benefits of such encounters flowed both ways.
Once Mr. Brown was in a philosophical mood and did away with his didactic presentation. It was the first day of the second term; we had yet to settle down. He had spent that holiday, his first in Malaysia, on the east coast with the family of one of his students. That part of the country was the poorest; he must have been jarred by the appalling poverty. Indeed, boys from that part of the country were referred to as Patikans, ancient, as with Pithecanthropus (Java man), a term both endearing and contemptuous depending on the context.
Brown started out rather benignly by asking us what we wanted to be. As usual, we were a modest lot for fear of being ridiculed. He asked Abu Hassan, and he replied – what else? – a teacher.
“Really!” Brown was not at all pleased or flattered. Abu Hassan was the top student in mathematics. Brown again asked just to be sure, and again Abu wiggled his way out with his put-on modesty. Brown was at first incredulous and then he got mad; his face flushed, the blood vessels on his scalp throbbed. I thought they would explode. He asked another student, trying hard to suppress his rising voice and exasperation, and again the same modest aspiration.
He became even more agitated, pacing back and forth. At that point we thought it would be best for us to be honest. We were hoping that the next student would rescue us by aspiring higher, like being a professor. Nope, the same lowly goal, except this time being a civil servant, working for the government.
On hearing that Brown exploded and hurled his chalk across the room. It whizzed by like a bullet to splatter on the back wall. We were stunned by this uncharacteristic physical display of fury. “Damn it!” he yelled. “Don’t you guys have any ambition?”
We all cowered down, afraid to look up.
“There’s no point my teaching you calculus,” he berated us, “if all you want to be is a teacher or civil servant.” He went on and on, pacing the floor. We still had twenty minutes of class to go. How are we going to endure if not contain this raging Canadian bull? He was livid.
“No wonder you people are backward,” he thundered. Wow, he was now hitting us low. “You’ll continue to be backward a hundred years hence. You don’t have any drive. No ambition!” His wild tirade went on and on, harsher and harsher. We were saved only by the bell. After he left, still in a rage, we regrouped. Hadi was the first to speak, suggesting that we should be honest with our teacher as he was trying to help us. Someone sneered and challenged Hadi what he would have said instead.
“I’d tell him I want to be a vet,” replied Hadi. “I’m not embarrassed. I’m telling you now.”
We all knew that, just like everyone knew that Nik and I both wanted to be doctors. At the end nothing was resolved. One thing was certain; we had enraged our favorite teacher and we did not know what to do.
Next: Excerpt # 88: Corralling A Raging Canadian Bull
