Wednesday, January 10, 2007
A trip to the country
So this is what it has come to - denying entry to 'old girls' because a few miserly people working in the surronding areas sneak into school, name-dropping a connection to some random teacher for some cheap orange bowl food. And the true-blue, bona-fide, yin-shui-si-yuan 'old girls' get left out in the cold if they haven't made an appointment with any teacher.
Way to go, alienating those who once walked amongst you. Way to go, new system. Way to go. See if the loyalty of your alumni wanes drastically, and then ask, "Gee, why?"
That said, the teachers are still as awesome as ever. Maybe they can't remember our names, but they remember our faces, and even if they don't remember that, they still have words of concern and advice for all of us.
Su Xin, Mui Kee, Evelyn and I decided to drop by St Nicks on the spur of the moment after we went to Yishun to register for their basic theory tests (as for me - I've passed, remember? Da Da da da Da DA!) We were walking out of the driving centre when we saw bus number 268 pass by. ("EY?! That goes past school right? Want to go there and eat lunch?")
And that's what we did.
Unlike my rather unfruitful trip back to school with Pam last year (the only teacher we saw was Mrs Tan who was on her way home, and Chen lao shi, who shooed us out of the staff room with a gruff "you3 mei2 you3 nan2 pen2 you3?"), I managed to see every teacher who taught me in upper sec, and even some from lower sec and from band. And remarkably (or not so remarkable, if you're feeling blasé about the prowess of the orange bowl stall owners) every single teacher asked us, "so have you had the orange bowl yet?"
Ah, orange bowl. I never really loved it to that extent. Or maybe I've just been ordering all the wrong dishes.
Good to have Uncle Mobeen's ice tea.
I really wanted prawn mee from the purple bowl, but it's no longer there.
And maybe that's the where the crux of the issue lies. There's a reason why people lose contact, or why people don't visit their old schools after a while. It's because they move on.
Evelyn was saying how she felt like an 'outsider' when she was in the canteen. The current students stare at us, undoubtedly just curious, but with the unintended effect of making us feel a bit like freaks. (Or movie stars, whichever strokes your ego more).
Funny how I started to sort of hate my last years at school, which now seem much safer, comfortable and innocent. My latest visit was nothing but an empty re-creation of a time long gone... or is it really? The Trafalmadorians will beg to differ. They see time in the fourth dimension, every moment from birth to death spread out like the Himalayas; while we look back, letting the passage of time turn everything into a hazy glow. The Trafalmadorians don't understand guilt, or regret, or nostalgia. They laugh at us while they shuttle through time, suffering none of the pangs of longing that feel like scars healed twice over.
Way to go, alienating those who once walked amongst you. Way to go, new system. Way to go. See if the loyalty of your alumni wanes drastically, and then ask, "Gee, why?"
That said, the teachers are still as awesome as ever. Maybe they can't remember our names, but they remember our faces, and even if they don't remember that, they still have words of concern and advice for all of us.
Su Xin, Mui Kee, Evelyn and I decided to drop by St Nicks on the spur of the moment after we went to Yishun to register for their basic theory tests (as for me - I've passed, remember? Da Da da da Da DA!) We were walking out of the driving centre when we saw bus number 268 pass by. ("EY?! That goes past school right? Want to go there and eat lunch?")
And that's what we did.
Unlike my rather unfruitful trip back to school with Pam last year (the only teacher we saw was Mrs Tan who was on her way home, and Chen lao shi, who shooed us out of the staff room with a gruff "you3 mei2 you3 nan2 pen2 you3?"), I managed to see every teacher who taught me in upper sec, and even some from lower sec and from band. And remarkably (or not so remarkable, if you're feeling blasé about the prowess of the orange bowl stall owners) every single teacher asked us, "so have you had the orange bowl yet?"
Ah, orange bowl. I never really loved it to that extent. Or maybe I've just been ordering all the wrong dishes.
Good to have Uncle Mobeen's ice tea.
I really wanted prawn mee from the purple bowl, but it's no longer there.
And maybe that's the where the crux of the issue lies. There's a reason why people lose contact, or why people don't visit their old schools after a while. It's because they move on.
Evelyn was saying how she felt like an 'outsider' when she was in the canteen. The current students stare at us, undoubtedly just curious, but with the unintended effect of making us feel a bit like freaks. (Or movie stars, whichever strokes your ego more).
Funny how I started to sort of hate my last years at school, which now seem much safer, comfortable and innocent. My latest visit was nothing but an empty re-creation of a time long gone... or is it really? The Trafalmadorians will beg to differ. They see time in the fourth dimension, every moment from birth to death spread out like the Himalayas; while we look back, letting the passage of time turn everything into a hazy glow. The Trafalmadorians don't understand guilt, or regret, or nostalgia. They laugh at us while they shuttle through time, suffering none of the pangs of longing that feel like scars healed twice over.
Labels: School, Slaughterhouse-Five
# posted by me lah @ 12:37 am 
