IT started off as a discussion on the upcoming Teachers Day’s celebrations. Some of us thought it would be fun to put up a skit or something of that sort by the teachers.
“Why not?” said Encik Azmi, one of our more senior teachers.
“After all, we have no lack of talent among us. I wonder whether all of us will be in school on Teachers Day though. You know-lah, kursus here and kursus there?.”
“Here a kursus, there a kursus, everywhere a kursus, kursus? Old Mac?” Fauziah Norizan was halted in mid-chirrup by a severe frown from Encik Azmi.
It was a thing to be considered however. How many of us would actually be in school during the Teachers Day celebrations, going by the increasing frequency of professional courses?
Sofian, a swinging bachelor teacher in his early thirties, simply loves attending these courses and is a more-than-willing volunteer for any teacher from his department who requires a replacement.
“Eh seronoknya. Duduk hotel makan enam kali sehari. Tak perlu masuk 3H satu minggu?” (It’s wonderful. You get to stay at the hotel. Have six meals a day and you don’t have to teach Form 3H for a week.)
While it is good to get away once in a while from the daily grind and monotony of school and come back refreshed and recharged, some teachers are not exactly overjoyed when they get letters calling them for such courses.
“Eat, sleep, listen to ceramah (talks). Then eat again. I swear, after each course, I put on at least four kg” said Normah, caressing her plump ankles.
“I don’t like going for these courses either,” said Mrs Tan, who taught Maths, in a rather sad voice.
She sounded so woebegone that we asked her what problems she encountered, expecting her to tell us about the backlog of work, the extra classes to make up for after being away, or the sometimes snide comments from colleagues when you got back.
“No, no,” she said, shaking her head, “all that I can deal with. It is just that after every course, I come back feeling that I’m not a very good teacher.”
We all protested loudly at that, knowing for a fact that she was one of the best teachers in the school.
She smiled, thanked us and continued, “Call it coincidence if you will, but every time we were divided into groups, I was placed among teachers who were either from premier schools, smart schools, vision schools, sekolah harapan negara and all other kinds of special schools I didn’t even know existed.
“When did so many ‘school-labels’ sprout up? The last time, I was the only one in the group who came from an ordinary Sekolah Menengah Kebangsaan. You should see the looks the others gave me. Like I was a second-class citizen or something.
“And the way they went on and on about how they led their school teams to victory after victory, in all levels of inter-school competitions. And there I was, with nothing to boast about except a ninth placing in the district level Maths quiz.
“Tell me something, all of you – does teaching in a premier school or smart school make one a better teacher?
“And just because your students achieve strings of As and win all those glorious awards, does that mean you are superior to teachers who teach in ordinary schools which can’t even be district champion in any field, no matter how much effort they put in?
“Ok, don’t tell me,” she said, looking at the rather indignant expressions on our faces.
“I already know the answers. But why then do I always come off feeling a little inferior after interacting with those teachers?”
I resisted my impulse to mouth the clichéd saying about it being all in her head and about how no one could ever make you feel inferior without your consent.
After all, we all knew exactly what Mrs Tan meant, having experienced similar situations to some extent or other.
“A few of us have actually been on the other side of the fence before, and I could tell by the looks on some of the teachers’ faces that they were searching their memories for evidence of guilt.
“All right,” said Normah finally, “so we are neither a premier school, nor a smart school, nor anybody’s sekolah harapan either?.
“So what does that make all of us? Not-so smart, non-premier, schools without vision, hope?.”
“Come, come,” said Encik Azmi, “I’m sure that was hardly the intention of the Education Ministry.”
“Intention or not, isn’t that what happens when you stick labels?” argued Normah.
“You label one student ‘excellent’. What are you telling the others? That they are not so ‘excellent’?”
“You know,” said Puan Leela joining in, “that is why I hate attending these district panel meetings after the results of public examinations are announced.
“I know that achievement statistics are not supposed to be highlighted anymore but that does not stop the district panel committee from ‘unofficially’ listing out individual school’s achievements.
“After that comes what I call the ‘gloat and bask’ session where teachers from schools with high scores are asked to comment and to give ideas to us, lesser-achieving schools.
“Do I feel envious? Sometimes, yes. Some of the schools with excellent results are ordinary schools like ours – them, I truly applaud.
“But tell me, what is so remarkable about a whole bunch of students who are already A-material and have been placed in one school by virtue of having been selected by past examination results, who actually obtain the As expected of them?
“After all, don’t we teachers in lesser schools do our job with equal dedication and commitment?
“Don’t we also have extra classes, subject seminars, motivation camps, intensive exercises?”
“Ladies, you will probably be annoyed with me for saying this,” said Encik Azmi, “but you are all beginning to sound like you have got these huge chips on your shoulders, just because you are not teaching in any of those selected, ‘designer-label’ schools. Yes, you do.
“Remember, it is not where you teach that matters but what is inside of you that decides whether you are a great teacher or not".
“And yes, there are great teachers in premier schools too, just as there are great teachers in non-premier or non-anything schools.
“As for those teachers who bask in reflected glory or revels in greatness-by-association, you can just tell them this.
It was related to me a long time ago when I was young and arrogant, and thought I was the best teacher around simply because the history team I was in charge of won the state championship, year after year.
“It was a premier school, of course. The parents were mostly professionals; the boys had good family support and excelled academically. I thought I was solely responsible for their success and turned my nose down at teachers from other schools.
“It took the wisdom of Mr Aru, whom I consider my mentor and the wisest teacher I ever met, to jolt me back to reality.
“He told me it was no big deal to add more fertilizer to a plant that was already healthy and blooming.
“But when you take a wilting plant, water it, and nurse it back to health, there is more cause for pride in the first bloom of that plant than in the dozens of flowers from the earlier plant.”
“Aren’t we all supposed to be discussing Teachers Day?” asked Fauziah suddenly.
“As usual, you people have gone off tangent.”
“Ah,” said Mrs Tan. “Perhaps we have. But now I know exactly what to tell my friends from ‘other’ schools when they boast to me about the hampers and exquisite gifts they receive on Teachers Day.
“I am going to show them the ‘ornaments’ from the RM1.99 shop which is all my 3G students can afford.
“And I am going to tell them about the fantastic bloom I got from the half-wilted plant that I nursed back to health.“
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