What Will Be, Will Be ( III )

IF at all there was any resolution made during that soul-searching year-end school holiday of 1971, it was this: no way was I going back to a science class. Instead I would try to worm my way into Form Five Arts, whatever the cost.

Of course it was easier said than done as later events proved. In any case, the Form Five Arts class teacher I poured my heart out to upon returning to STF, understood my predicament and allowed me to join her class.

And so it was that I took my place at the back row of Form Five Arts, Class of 1972, Sekolah Tun Fatimah, happy as a lark, with a spring in my step and a lilt in my voice. I felt rejuvenated. I had a renewed sense of purpose. The dark clouds had finally lifted. So I thought.

Three months into Form Five Arts, all of us MCE exam candidates had to fill in some forms, one of which required us to list our examination subjects. Soon enough, I found myself ushered into the office of the headmistress, Cik K.

Cik K wanted to know why I listed Arts stream subjects for MCE when I was a Pure Science student. What happened to Biology, Chemistry, Physics and Additional Mathematics? Cornered, I told her the truth about switching streams.

She went red in the face and launched into a tirade, chiding me for my brazen action. “You are not allowed to switch streams. You were sent here to do Science and you shall do Science. If you insist on doing Arts, you can’t stay in STF. You have to leave. I shall not have you switching streams in this school.”

I pleaded. I cajoled. I wept. I begged and implored her to make an exception in my case. I appealed to her conscience and beseeched her for mercy. I promised her I would not let the school down. I told her I knew I would rise to the occasion in Arts.

I might as well be talking to a brick wall. She shut her mind to my pleas and repeated the threat of kicking me out of STF altogether should I fail to return to Science on the double. And then she asked me to leave her room, but not before giving me a parting shot. I have never forgotten those words and never will.

“If I ever see you in the Arts class again, you better pack your bags because you are not staying here. You can go back to your old school. But mark my word. You won’t be able to cope and you shall fail your MCE miserably.”

My last day in STF was the hardest ever. I never thought I would leave in such an ignominious manner. Simply put, I was kicked out of an elite school for the 'unforgiveable crime' of switching streams.

I did not breach any school rules nor was I hauled up for any grievous misdeeds. All I did was switch from Science to Arts. But my action was unacceptable to the headmistress of STF. There was no compassion for me. So I had to leave.

The MCE exam was topmost in my mind. I would not take a chance on Chemistry just to remain in STF. If I had to go in order to succeed, I would, everything else be damned.

Actually I was extremely disappointed that Cik K didn't see it fit to give me a running chance. I attributed it to my lack of history in STF. Had I been with the school from the beginning, I don't think I would have been so shoddily treated.

There was a shocked silence when I reported for class in Dungun English Secondary School at the beginning of second term. I felt so small, my tail tucked between my legs.

But never underestimate the power of true friendship. Once the mist had cleared, everyone rallied around and I found myself back among old friends. And the teachers were simply great. One thing about provincial schools; the caring was genuine.

I knew I was at a disadvantage. I had lost one full year of lessons in certain subjects, but I had no choice but to take those subjects to fulfil exam requirements. I had to replace the four Pure Science subjects that I gave up with four others from the Arts grouping.

I opted for General Science, Mathematics, History and Malay Literature. The first two were a shoo-in but the subsequent two were tough as hell since I had to start from scratch, having to cover Form Four work as well.

So I crammed like crazy. I covered Malay Literature and History in six months instead of the standard two years. I was single-minded in my pursuit. I must excel in MCE, just to prove to the STF headmistress that I wasn't the birdbrain she took me to be.

Malay Literature wasn't easy. Without any foundation, one would not be able to understand a single thing. But I had a wonderfully patient teacher who understood my predicament and spent time guiding me though the literary maze.

That teacher is today the well-known but humble Datuk Mustafa Ali, the PAS Commissioner of Terengganu. To him I owe a big portion of my academic success. Cikgu Pa, THANK YOU.

It's true what they say about every cloud having a silver lining. Mine came in the form of Cikgu Jawariah Mohamud, an angel of a cikgu, who taught English .

Upon learning of my deep interest in and affinity with the language, she took me under her wings, lending me books and helping me with my writing. I was pleasantly surprised to learn Cik Jawariah too was a former student of STF (Class of 1964).

And she penned the following comforting words in my autograph book: "Science is for those who learn; poetry, for those who know." J. Roux.

The day the MCE results were announced, I was among the first to arrive in school to collect mine. I knew I had done my best and I was prepared for any eventuality.

My hands shook when the result slip was handed to me but the smile on my teacher's face comforted me somewhat.

Given the circumstances, my results, while not spectacular, were more than decent. I scored distinctions in both English and Bahasa Malaysia, and a string of credits elsewhere.

Both my grandparents shed happy tears. I didn't. I just bawled. Grandpa wrote a long, stinging letter to Cik K, detailing my MCE results. Of course there was no reply.

Me? I didn't waste much time celebrating because Sixth Form beckoned invitingly in Sultan Sulaiman Secondary School, Kuala Terengganu. But that's another story.