I started schooling in a Malay School in Rantau Panjang which was situated about 2 miles from my hometown, Lanchang, in Pahang. It was in 1952 and I was 5½ years old when I enrolled in Standard 1. This school was built with palm leaves for the roof and bamboo for the wall. During those days, sometimes we had our class under a tree as there were a limited number of classrooms. My father, retired as a teacher from different school, bought one table and chair for me during my first year. There were not enough furniture and most of the students sat on the floor. We used tablets or slate (“papan batu”) instead of books or paper, for us to write on. The tablet was marked with single line on one side and double lines on the other as guidance when writing. Care had to be taken as these tablets may easily break, and once broken; we had to buy a new one. Most of the reading was in Jawi, and spelling it correctly would make you leave the classroom early at the end of the day. Sometimes the teacher asked us on mathematical tables to test his students. During those years, if a student failed the year-end exam, they may not be promoted to the next class.
Going to the school and return was by bus, but if the bus failed to arrive, which usually happened during the emergency era, we have to walk to the school or back home. Sometimes, my friends and I would take a lift from any police vehicles that passed by the school. There were time we just walked home and on the way we would stop by this tamarind tree (Picture; 2008) to get some of the fruits to nibble along the way. When I passed this road a few years ago, this memorable tree was felled to make way for a new road. I think the tree was almost 100 years old!
Every morning, before going into the classroom, we did gardening at the vegetable plots at the back of the school. We planted vegetables and collected manure from a goat’s den nearby. At times, we did some gardening in front of the school planting various species of flowers to beautify our school. We were asked to bring along to the school a pole to fence the school area to avoid buffalos that encroached into the school compound at night.
Accident did happen during the gardening; a fellow student accidentally hit my eyebrow with a hoe when he turned around. I was attended by our teacher and the scar remained until today. When a dentist came to visit our school to do their monthly check on the students, many of the students, when they saw the mobile clinic in the school compound, would ran away to their homes as they were afraid of their tooth being extracted. Our headmaster (Cik Gu Sidin) was a very strict man. Whenever a student gave “sick” as an excuse for not coming to school, he would insisted that we took a tablespoon of quinine, not only as a medicine for the “sick” but as a punishment for being “absent”. We hate the taste of the quinine!
During the school year, our school closed for 1 month during the month of Ramadan and re-opened after the Hari Raya celebration. There would be another month of year-end school holidays. We were once instructed to come to the school on a Saturday, and at the school field our headmaster presented a box of chocolate to every student to commemorate the birthday celebration of the Queen of England. Malaya (or Malaysia) was at that time under the sovereignty of England.
When I was in Standard 3, I was sent to sit for an examination in a school in Temerloh, which is about 15 miles from my hometown. I was about 9 years old then and did not know why I was asked to sit for this exam. My father and brother accompanied me.
When schools opened for the first term in 1956, I was sent to Abu Bakar School in Temerloh. It was an English language school and I was enrolled in a Special Malay Class 1 or SMC 1. At that time I did not know any English word, and this was a “cultural shock” to me. I have to start learning English which is a foreign language to me. Everything is in English and I have to bear with it, whether I like it or not.
That was the beginning for me to learn the English language. As time goes by, I manage to understand and able to read, write and converse the new language. I was taught to use the dictionary and now, at this old age, whenever I need to refer for a word, either its spelling or meaning, a dictionary is always by my side. My wife used to ask me the meaning or spelling of a particular word, and I obliged as I knew she was from a Malay medium class, and at least she is willing to learn. A young lady, who studied in a university, used to refer to me whenever she wanted to know the meaning or spelling of a word. I told her that this “walking dictionary” has its time limit, and that she has to adapt herself using a dictionary whenever there is a need to.
As years went by, I moved on to the next classes, SMC 2 and Standard 6. Those 3 years were the primary level. It was a tough journey for a kampong boy schooling in an English school for only 3 years that normally took 6 years. The year-end exam would decide as to whether I would continue to the secondary level the next year. I managed to pass the exam and continued to the secondary classes, which were Form 1, Form 2 and Form 3. At the end of this third year, I sat for the Lower Certificate Examination (LCE).
Our headmaster was Mr. C. Sivapakiam (Late), a serious but kind-hearted man. Whenever he passed our class on his daily check, and the teacher was not in the classroom, we would pretend reading or did something that may please him. Sometime he would come to our class substituting a teacher. He is a sportsman himself. When our school football team loss to the visiting team, he was so frustrated, threw his cigar and left the stand. If we had won, he would declare a school holiday the next day. He retired and went back to his hometown in Klang, Selangor.
I moved on to Form 4. This is a boarding school and I was given a place at the hostel. I stayed in the dormitory with other students who came from various villages in the Temerloh’s district. Hostel life was something that everyone cherished, where you would obey all rules and regulations. You have to wash your clothes, make up and clean your bed, always in time to the dining hall and make sure you did go to school. For your evening tea, you would have a mug of tea and with only 2 pieces of cream crackers! During the month of Ramadan we had our “sahur” at about 3.00 am. When the bell rang, you won’t be surprise, out of those sleepy eyes; a few would run the wrong way instead of going towards the dining hall. Among the many friends I still remember were from this photo taken in 1963. Anyone you know? I still remember the names, but sorry to say, it’s almost 50 years now and I have lost contacts with them. (From Left – Mohd Zahir Seman, Baharuddin, Jamal Mahmud, Mohamad Ismail, Myself, Abu Samah and Nazri Othman).
Going to the school and return was by bus, but if the bus failed to arrive, which usually happened during the emergency era, we have to walk to the school or back home. Sometimes, my friends and I would take a lift from any police vehicles that passed by the school. There were time we just walked home and on the way we would stop by this tamarind tree (Picture; 2008) to get some of the fruits to nibble along the way. When I passed this road a few years ago, this memorable tree was felled to make way for a new road. I think the tree was almost 100 years old!
Every morning, before going into the classroom, we did gardening at the vegetable plots at the back of the school. We planted vegetables and collected manure from a goat’s den nearby. At times, we did some gardening in front of the school planting various species of flowers to beautify our school. We were asked to bring along to the school a pole to fence the school area to avoid buffalos that encroached into the school compound at night.
Accident did happen during the gardening; a fellow student accidentally hit my eyebrow with a hoe when he turned around. I was attended by our teacher and the scar remained until today. When a dentist came to visit our school to do their monthly check on the students, many of the students, when they saw the mobile clinic in the school compound, would ran away to their homes as they were afraid of their tooth being extracted. Our headmaster (Cik Gu Sidin) was a very strict man. Whenever a student gave “sick” as an excuse for not coming to school, he would insisted that we took a tablespoon of quinine, not only as a medicine for the “sick” but as a punishment for being “absent”. We hate the taste of the quinine!
During the school year, our school closed for 1 month during the month of Ramadan and re-opened after the Hari Raya celebration. There would be another month of year-end school holidays. We were once instructed to come to the school on a Saturday, and at the school field our headmaster presented a box of chocolate to every student to commemorate the birthday celebration of the Queen of England. Malaya (or Malaysia) was at that time under the sovereignty of England.
When I was in Standard 3, I was sent to sit for an examination in a school in Temerloh, which is about 15 miles from my hometown. I was about 9 years old then and did not know why I was asked to sit for this exam. My father and brother accompanied me.
When schools opened for the first term in 1956, I was sent to Abu Bakar School in Temerloh. It was an English language school and I was enrolled in a Special Malay Class 1 or SMC 1. At that time I did not know any English word, and this was a “cultural shock” to me. I have to start learning English which is a foreign language to me. Everything is in English and I have to bear with it, whether I like it or not.
That was the beginning for me to learn the English language. As time goes by, I manage to understand and able to read, write and converse the new language. I was taught to use the dictionary and now, at this old age, whenever I need to refer for a word, either its spelling or meaning, a dictionary is always by my side. My wife used to ask me the meaning or spelling of a particular word, and I obliged as I knew she was from a Malay medium class, and at least she is willing to learn. A young lady, who studied in a university, used to refer to me whenever she wanted to know the meaning or spelling of a word. I told her that this “walking dictionary” has its time limit, and that she has to adapt herself using a dictionary whenever there is a need to.
As years went by, I moved on to the next classes, SMC 2 and Standard 6. Those 3 years were the primary level. It was a tough journey for a kampong boy schooling in an English school for only 3 years that normally took 6 years. The year-end exam would decide as to whether I would continue to the secondary level the next year. I managed to pass the exam and continued to the secondary classes, which were Form 1, Form 2 and Form 3. At the end of this third year, I sat for the Lower Certificate Examination (LCE).
Our headmaster was Mr. C. Sivapakiam (Late), a serious but kind-hearted man. Whenever he passed our class on his daily check, and the teacher was not in the classroom, we would pretend reading or did something that may please him. Sometime he would come to our class substituting a teacher. He is a sportsman himself. When our school football team loss to the visiting team, he was so frustrated, threw his cigar and left the stand. If we had won, he would declare a school holiday the next day. He retired and went back to his hometown in Klang, Selangor.
I moved on to Form 4. This is a boarding school and I was given a place at the hostel. I stayed in the dormitory with other students who came from various villages in the Temerloh’s district. Hostel life was something that everyone cherished, where you would obey all rules and regulations. You have to wash your clothes, make up and clean your bed, always in time to the dining hall and make sure you did go to school. For your evening tea, you would have a mug of tea and with only 2 pieces of cream crackers! During the month of Ramadan we had our “sahur” at about 3.00 am. When the bell rang, you won’t be surprise, out of those sleepy eyes; a few would run the wrong way instead of going towards the dining hall. Among the many friends I still remember were from this photo taken in 1963. Anyone you know? I still remember the names, but sorry to say, it’s almost 50 years now and I have lost contacts with them. (From Left – Mohd Zahir Seman, Baharuddin, Jamal Mahmud, Mohamad Ismail, Myself, Abu Samah and Nazri Othman).
The final year was Form 5 and I sat for the School Cambridge Certificate and Malaysian Certificate Examinations (SC and MCE). That was the year 1963, the final year as a student at Abu Bakar Secondary School, Temerloh, Pahang. I left the school and hostel with lots of memories.
My English may not as good as the others, I presumed. When I started to work in a Government Office in 1967, the English language was still used mostly in correspondence among the top level offices. In the 1980’s I was transferred to a Federal Department in Kuala Lumpur where the use of English is still a priority besides the Malay language. I told a few junior staffs, who were graduated from the local universities and was from the Malay Medium classes, to improve themselves with the English language and to leave their dialect behind. They were working with various projects for the government along with the foreign counterparts and they have to speak and write good English. When I retired, I happened to meet one of them who thanked me for the advice.
Anyway, I am glad to be able to read, write and converse in English.
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