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Showing posts with label Fathers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Fathers. Show all posts

Sunday, January 14, 2018

Only the brave teach


Show of solidarity: Fellow teachers and unionists gathering at the Seremban magistrate court last month in support of Cikgu Azizan (centre in white).


ONE tight slap – I still vividly remember that hard, stinging smack across my cheek as my teacher flew into a fit of rage after I did something naughty as a primary school pupil at St Xavier’s Institution in Penang.

I can’t recall which teacher hit me, but there must have been more than one. They pinched my stomach and even my nipples. Many of my classmates can attest to that, even 40 years on.

There was also the occasional caning, which I felt was an act of gross injustice and, perhaps, even one of perversion on the part of our disciplinary teacher. To me, back then, he was an unfair individual, and my opinion still stands. To this day, I have no idea why I was caned and not given the chance to defend myself.

But, bless his soul, because he has passed on. Most students from back then would have forgiven him by now, for he probably knew not what he was doing.

However, one thing is certain – as far as I know, none of us returned home and complained about this disciplinary action to our parents.

Comedian Harith Iskandar always reminds his audience that if one complained to their parents, they can expect to get another tight slap that “would burn your face and send an electrifying chilling effect to all parts of your body,” and consequently, leave a lifetime’s reminder.

So, the smartest thing to do, as most older Malaysians can testify, was to keep quiet. Of course, we also warned our classmates, some of whom were our neighbors, to swear to keep things under wraps and not tell their parents about the drama at school.

The caning and slaps, by disciplinary standards, were the “final” punishments. We surely remember the use of rulers, feather dusters, belts, black board dusters and in my case, even a shoe that flew in my direction.

And I wasn’t even in the naughty boys’ category. I didn’t get into fights or was caught loitering with the bad hats after school.

As one writer, Adrian Lee Yuen Beng, wrote in Aliran: “The teachers were our ad hoc parents who taught with joy and passion, and like their predecessors, never demanded any recognition. They customarily stood at the back of the class, silently rejoicing as the students celebrated their exam success.

“We received an education steeped in tradition as mission schoolteachers took teaching seriously; it was not a mere job, but a vocation, nay, a calling.

“Our teachers were proud of their lessons and believed in their form of education. They shaped us into intellectuals, sportspersons, politicians, educators, religionists, physicians and other important societal figures.”

Fast forward to today – and it’s the total reverse. The guilty party – the student – runs home to complain to his parents.

Now, the father and mother fly into a rage and decide to confront the teacher at school the following day. What unnecessary drama!

Adding insult to injury, the parents then seek the help of a politician, who has likely been deprived of the media’s glare for a while. Then, all three confront the teacher.

Lodging a police report is, of course, the next thing they do, and to embarrass the teacher and school further, they call for a press conference.

This is modern Malaysia. Perhaps, today’s family is smaller. There are only one or two children in a family, and they are, invariably, pampered.

During my time, there were at least four or five siblings and even so, we were still regarded a small family. Dad was always too busy earning a living, trying to put food on the table, so, he was thankful that the teacher played surrogate father, at least during school hours. The lesser-educated father would have been equally respectful of teachers. After all, it’s accepted that teachers mould the character, calibre and prospects of their students.

However, the modern-day father thinks he’s smarter and earns more than the teacher, his condescending and confrontational attitude not boding well for the situation.

He probably thinks the teacher has a dead-end job or is too busy distributing business cards to pupils for after-school tuition.

But, for an old-school type like me, I find it difficult to accept news of teachers being hauled to court for purportedly hurting their students.

Honestly, don’t the police and prosecutors have better things to do than to charge these teachers who were merely trying to discipline the children – responsibilities which may have been neglected by their caregivers?

In December, a teacher facing the charge of hurting his student, was given a discharge not amounting to acquittal by the magistrate’s court.

Magistrate Mohd Zaki Abdul Rahim delivered judgement after the prosecution told the court that they wished to withdraw the case.

Azizan Manap, also known as Cikgu Azizan, claimed trial to the charge of slapping an 11-year-old male student on the left cheek in April for indiscipline, the misdemeanour including sniffing glue, bullying and playing truant.

He was charged under Section 323 of the Penal Code for voluntarily causing hurt and was left facing a jail term of up to a year, a fine of RM,2000, or both, upon conviction.

Leading up to his discharge, several hundred people, including fellow teachers, gathered at the court in a show of solidarity for Cikgu Azizan.

By all means, go ahead and Google it: there are numerous reports of teachers threatened or roughed up in schools, and surprisingly, we seldom hear of offensive parents charged in court for criminal intimidation or causing bodily harm.

We have now been made to understand that the old ways don’t work anymore. The children need counselling and their hair needs to be stroked to motivate them. Have these methods worked better? That remains to be conclusively proven.

One thing’s for sure, though, the tight slap was unbeatable in my time in instilling discipline. Now, when I enter a lift, the millennials are too busy looking at their handphones, so don’t expect them to address you as “sir” or even greet you.

You’d be lucky if they called you “bro” and gave you an enthusiastic high-five, instead.

Would the proverbial one tight slap work today in curing disciplinary ills? Hardly likely.

By Wong Chun Wai

Wong Chun Wai began his career as a journalist in Penang, and has served The Star for over 27 years in various capacities and roles. He is now the group's managing director/chief executive officer and formerly the group chief editor.

On The Beat made its debut on Feb 23 1997 and Chun Wai has penned the column weekly without a break, except for the occasional press holiday when the paper was not published. In May 2011, a compilation of selected articles of On The Beat was published as a book and launched in conjunction with his 50th birthday. Chun Wai also comments on current issues in The Star.

Wednesday, June 11, 2014

A father’s love for his family

You don’t need words to express how you feel when deeds can clearly get the message across

BEING close to 1,000km away from home by air indirectly means that a lot of times, I will miss out on many celebrations in Kuching.

Earlier this month, the Sarawakians were celebrating Gawai, or the harvest festival in the state.

Although the Dragon Boat Festival is also celebrated here, it is not the same without my mother’s home-made dumplings.

The faster pace of life here coupled with the number of activities I can do keep me occupied and provide me with a sense of fulfilment.

However, when I slow down, I will feel homesick once in a while.

Not long ago, I called my father to tell him that I would like to fly back to Kuching for a break.

He told me to save the flight money and “rest” because he thinks that flying can be a bit of a hassle.

It may sound odd as to why a father would tell his daughter not to go home for those reasons.

Flight tickets are very affordable these days especially during the off peak seasons or when the airlines are running a promotion.

And while it does take some effort to get to the airport, check-in and fly back all that usually takes about four hours (assuming there is no delay with the flight).

For a round trip back to my hometown, it possibly costs me a few hundred ringgit and eight hours of travelling but that, according to my father, is an unnecessary waste of time and money.

“Save your hard-earned money for better use,” he would say.

So, usually, I will fly back twice a year; once during Chinese New Year and another trip will be made as and when I want to.

“There really is no need to come back so often. It is such a chore. All you have to do is call us more often,” he argued.

I did not argue that it would not be the same because my father’s logic is slightly different from others’ and he is a bit stubborn.

“A bit” may be an understatement based on my mother’s standard but that is my father.

A man of few words who sometimes says things that people least expect and to a certain degree, mysterious.

Mysterious in a sense that no one in the family knows what he really thinks and how he really feels.

Sometimes I ask, “Why?”, and he will reply, “Don’t ask so much”.

Surprisingly, asking questions is part and parcel of what I do for a living now.

Compared to my mother, who will show her concern and express her thoughts overtly (and most of the times excessively), my father appears somewhat “emotionally detached”.

My mother is the kind who will impose her values and what she thinks is good on her children but my father appears cool and easy-going with many of the decisions his children make in life.

The difference in their approaches became antecedent to their arguments but my mother will usually have the last word.

When my mother gets angry, we usually know the reason but when my father becomes furious, the cause is mostly unknown.

Hence, that makes me wonder more, “Why?”

I cannot even comprehend the kind of food he loves – duck neck and fish head.

Most people prefer the meaty parts.

After countless “whys” on the subject, I finally realised that, all these are just the ways my father expresses his love.

He leaves the best for his family.

He swallows his pain, conceals his emotions because he does not want others to worry.

It is also because “by default” based on most societies’ standards, a man has to put a strong front to provide for and to protect his family.

His love is in his actions but not words, subtle yet powerful, silent yet beautiful. That, is a father’s love for his family.

> Ng Bei Shan, a business journalist with The Star, salutes all the fathers for being a warrior of their families. She hopes those who are able to celebrate the coming Father’s Day to treasure the moments with their heroes and gently reminds those who cannot make it back home to give their fathers a warm greeting.

 Contributed by  # BAH! Ng Bei Shan
Ng Bei Shan, a business journalist with the Star, salutes all the fathers for being a warrior of their families. She hopes those who are able to celebrate the coming Father's Day to treasure the moments with their heroes and gently reminds those who cannot make it back home to give their fathers a warm greeting.

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