March 2003

Last Minute Man - 3/18/2003





I just got back from climbing / walking up Mt Ophir in Johor. Twas a great experience and the view and being in the outdoors was a wonderful experience. I must say that it was a kinda blessing in disguise that the trekking kids asked me along (male chaperone) last minute cause I probably would never have gone.

It's probably the craziest thing I've done in a long time cause they asked me the day before they were leaving - and yes while it was merely to Malaysia, it's not everyday that you decide to climb a mountain and sleep in a tent the very next day ...

And it's also given me greater insight into the workings of the senir admin of the school, the double crossing hypocrisy that operates almost as a governing principle. Having been in two schools up and having witnessed the behind the scenes scheming and downright lack of integrity on the part of the senior admin, I must say that I am totally qualified to affirm that it's disgusting.

Most of us gripe and complain about the inefficencies of the administration in schools; that the bureaucratic tape is overwheling and that all school leaders care about are the results. But I've witnessed up close how school leaders lack integrity, lie and try to push the blame for their oversight on innocent individuals, behaviour that cannot be condoned but somehow is because we are all awed by the authority that position brings.

At least the trip went off well and there were memorable moments. I suppose acting according to a set of higher beliefs, beliefs that define you as a teacher beyond the boundaries and limitations set by the ministry or by an institution, will somehow pay off in some way. Not that I'm advocating rebellious behaviour: just that I'll refuse to allow the inadequacies of a system limit what I can do. I guess that's a pretty bold claim, but one that I'll try my best to stick with.

For now at least.





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hey juz felt like telling u u're a wonderful teacher. missya and our class=) [É÷÷\]

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Yupz, thankx Mr Lim for coming on thursday nite.Even though I didn't really get to talk to u but i appreciate what u did for us and the main team.=)

Mag

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at least you still enjoy teaching! =) [i||uXioN]

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good for you ;) [downwardspiraltohell]

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So it's come to this - 3/27/2003





So it's come to this. He muttered sitting in a room filled with books. Stacks running from floor to wall with hardly any space between them. So it's come to this moment when I make a choice between reading and living. I never thought it possible that spheres could be kept apart so neatly. But they've managed it. And now it's come to this moment when the choice I make between reading and living is no longer metaphor but is literal. He paused for a moment, recalling the way he used to record his thoughts on the page. But this was not a moment for writing or scribbling and he quickly cancelled the impulse to look helplessly about the room for a piece of paper.

"So? Your decision?" The gnarled voice gripped at his throat.

And he felt the pain immediately. Not as a psychic band tightening around his brain but as a sharp penetration and he wincing uncontrollably couldn't answer. Gasping, he tried to stay on his feet as he lashed out at the books, hoping that they would provide some kind of support.

They'd wired him. No wonder he felt the words so keenly.

I feel my hands: they're awkward in this room. Salty from sweat and palms wet with exhaustion. I taste the encrustation of grime which gathers at the corners or my cracked lips and my hair matted from days of being kept apart from any source of running water. And I grasp for my torso, a reassurance that they've not shorn me into bits and merely retrieved my memory. It's there. I gather myself into a ball, but these are difficult times to be shape perfect and I merely manage to curl up fetal-like.





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*blur* [AnGeL^6587]

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Another View - 3/27/2003





From here, it's quiet. Like the opening of a pack of chips expertly done, the sun light slices into two neat sides the package that was the room. Cutting through the window grilles, the light menaces for a moment but quickly dances across the parquet floor. It's like they say slogan-like, "It's A Brand New Day!" And you crave for a sense of optimism that will shield you from the ravages of living with yourself. You hope that cliches will leave their mark, another branding of sorts, so that you'll be counted and possessed by newness. Opening your eyes to the sun isn't easy when you've got them shut for such a long time but the pain is better to keeping them cloistered and holed up in the uncertainty of the dark. Even when the shades are drawn and most of the sunlight comes through quietly, it's the rays that manage to get in sharply that become all that matters. While the artificial sounds of the morning - the running of car engines, the loud playing CNN broadcast, the rattling of loose gates flung open - rouse you, only the eyes fully opened and taking in the newness of the hour counts as an invitation to take your place in the scheme of things once again.

I potter for a moment. I totter for a second at the top of the stairs as my feet do the slow shuffle down the wooden steps. I haven't counted them in a long while for I am normally in a rush but today my good sense tells me to check that there are still thirteen to the first landing and five thereafter. Thirteen steps to plonk down when I was younger, hearing the reverberating tock of steps that had gone hollow, rotten inside. Then a big finish - yes folks - put your hands together for a big finish - yes he's going to jump from the landing down the final five ...

I greet the similarity of each morning with a dull reply for coffee. I don't really read the papers. I just stare at the obscene intrusion of these pictures into the space that is the kitchen and my mind. All the World comes to me, seeking an audience, and I get irritated. But quickly I fill my sense with the sights and sounds (the news on TV and radio) and the Media is a drug that gets me going.







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So it's come to this ( additions) - 3/27/2003





So it's come to this. He muttered sitting in a room filled with books. Stacks running from floor to wall with hardly any space between them. So it's come to this moment when I make a choice between reading and living. I never thought it possible that spheres could be kept apart so neatly. But they've managed it. And now it's come to this moment when the choice I make between reading and living is no longer metaphor but becomes literal. He paused for a moment, recalling the way he used to record his thoughts on the page. But this was not a moment for writing or scribbling and he quickly cancelled the impulse to look helplessly about the room for a piece of paper.

"So? Your decision?" The gnarled voice gripped at his throat.

And he felt the pain immediately. Not as a psychic band tightening around his brain but as a sharp penetration and he wincing uncontrollably couldn't answer. Gasping, he tried to stay on his feet as he lashed out at the books, hoping that they would provide some kind of support.

They'd wired him. No wonder he felt the words so keenly.

I feel my hands: they're awkward in this room. Salty from sweat and palms wet with exhaustion. I taste the encrustation of grime which gathers at the corners or my cracked lips and my hair matted from days of being kept apart from any source of running water. And I grasp for my torso, a reassurance that they've not shorn me into bits and merely retrieved my memory. It's there. I gather myself into a ball, but these are difficult times to be shape perfect and I merely manage to curl up fetal-like.

The slogan read "In an Age of Total Information, Who Needs Books?" It hung, a silent couplet at the edge of the room's doors. Struggling to keep his eyes open, he peered carefully about. The books where still there. Perhaps he should venture to open one of them. But the thought lapsed into a question and turned upon itself. But what if they see you reading? The couplet on the wall shifted its figurations and now read "Total Information: All You Ever Need To Know"







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hmm.. something for me to study in the extra one week holidays... haha.. [i||uXioN]

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[Enfant Terrible]

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hi! i 'stumbled' across your diary and decided to read it. i hope you don't mind me reading it.

i think you are a great teacher. i'm sure you have great students too.

*stumbled: when i was browsing through the list of singaporean diarist aged over 25 [b|dent]

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