With a Sigh ( No 19 ) – No turning back for PBS

PBS forever

In my No 18 of this series I questioned whether I was being unjustly critical on the subject of PBS and, in general, on the education ‘blueprint’. When I was about to drop the issue from my mind two things prompted me to sit back to write this. First was the news splash on the endless PBS issue. There is no going back. It will be bulldozed through with a huge concession; teachers’ workload will be reduced by 80%.Isn’t that fantastic? Had no one ever thought through the implementation of a major project, or was there no one with his/her brain working outside the guitar box?  How could such a huge impact on workload was never thought of; pure nincompoop. Now do I hear, “Hurray!!” from teachers on hearing the recent discovery of reduction on their workload ?    

The second announcement made was the planned disappearance of the current PMR examination, making way for the emergence of yet another examination called PT3 – whatever that is, of world class, no doubt. I am surprised if we will not be told that before long the SPM will be called differently, like SP1M.

A Perfect solution !

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As a rule, children join Almanar tuition class at Form 1, allowing sufficient time for us to give these children sound understanding of the basic knowledge in English language and Mathematics by the time they sit for their PMR examination three years later. This has proved successful. It is never our requirement that children are accepted on the basis of their good primary school records. Preference is given to those with poor family as long as the children are prepared to move at the pace we, taking cognition of the level of their knowledge, set for them,

Unfortunately there are instances when we get request for help from children at higher Forms. A typical example is the case of three girls of Form 4 who, ten days ago, approached Pakcik for help in English and Mathematics. They performed well enough in their PMR examination end of last year, gaining as many as 6 ‘A’ grades in subjects except English and Mathematics. Two of them managed to obtain ‘C’ grade and the third just ‘D’ grade in English. No one in that school obtained all ‘A’ grades in the examination. These three children are conscious of the need to get help but are not prepared to pay for evening tuition classes mushrooming around the area.

To have a very rough indication of the level of their English, I made them translate into English the following two Malay sentences:

“ Adam seorang budak bernama Ali. Dia mempunyai dua orang abang.”

Girl No 1’s answer : “Have a boy name Ali. He has two brothers.”

Girl No 2’s answer  : "Have boy is name Ali. He have two elder brother.”

Girl No 3’s answer  : “There are boy name Ali. He have two brothers.”

Wouldn't I heave a long sigh when I am faced with this situation? Will the ‘blueprint’, PBS and so on, solve it all in future ?

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Special request to my visitors:

I know a number of visitors to this blog are teachers with experience in general and English Language in particular. Bearing in mind that many do not wish to give open comments for other visitors to read, I sincerely seek their comments, (via  email to   almanar@pd.com.my ), on my thoughts related to education in Malaysia. I must admit that, entrenched in the system I was so familiar with half a century ago, I could have reflected a totally out-dated thoughts. I would not be embarrassed or offended to adverse comments which I am grateful for.

 

  _________________________

Berkhidmat kerana Tuhan untuk keemanusiaan

Pakcik Reminisces ( Pt 35 ) - The Road I Took (No 1)

Education

                                                                                           :

           

Allah yarham Idris

That is my late elder brother, (Allah yarham) Idris who passed away last year at the age of eighty two (82). This picture of him, dressed like an Arab prince, was taken soon after his return from his Islamic studies in the Middle East, hence his attire.

I was then about to finish my secondary religious school, and, if all went as planned, I would be shipped (literally so, before the era of air travel) on the same course to the Middle East. Of this plan my brother had a suggestion which sounded logical. In his opinion younger sibling should first be allowed to learn some English. He saw that as an advantage; he himself planning to join a private school for some knowledge in English language before applying for a job. His words carried weight. After all I was relatively young, having performed two years ahead in completing the religious school. Yes, I was ready for that.

Today, I realise what happened then, was a landmark in my life. I was being led to a junction where Robert Frost’s famous poem said:

“Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

  And sorry I could not travel both

  And be one traveler, long I stood

  And looked down on one as far as I could

  To where it bent in the undergrowth

           ……………..

           ………………”

__________________________

It was not easy by any means for this boy to join the only Government English school in the state. I lacked sufficient knowledge in English (other than whatever I had managed to pick up from afternoon classes) and mathematics. But my family was adamant that I must join the government school, by hook or by crook. It was indeed by ‘hook or by crook’ ( of which I hope to write one day ) I found myself starting my proper education in English. I had to begin at Standard Seven, the equivalence of today’s Form Three.

Three years followed and I performed well in the Senior Cambridge School Certificate examination (SC), the equivalence (or not quite!) of today’s SPM. The choice of a new path began to emerge in the thick undergrowth, and I took it.

To end Robert Frost’s poem:

“ I shall be telling this with a sigh

   Somewhere ages and ages hence:

  Two roads diverged in a wood, and I –

  I took the one less travelled by,

  And that has made all the difference.”

The SC results were good beyond expectation, giving me an alternative route, equally attractive. And I took the road.

Indeed, ‘ages and ages’ thence, 62 years later, I reminisce and tell myself ‘with a sigh …. Two roads diverged in a wood, and I took the one less travelled. And that has made all the difference."

What, otherwise, I would I be today had I taken the other road?

My contemporaries of that time became ‘mufties, kadhis’ and educators in Arabic and Islamic subjects. One of them has the satisfaction of having, among his tutelage, a champion in the Malaysian International Quran competition. One of them, Allah Yarham Abdul Malik, a graduate from Al-Azhar, passed away two years ago while serving as a respected Imam of a mosque in Sydney where he decided to settle down with his successful family.

Year-1951
School librarians of Sultan Zainal Abidin Religious Ascool.

Allah Yarham AbdulMalik sitting (left in picture) and Pakcik standing left and there friends (Yarhamuhumullah)    

I could be, today, enjoying my old age as one of them had I taken the other road in the wood. But this had not to be. That elder brother of mine, (Yarhamuhullah) was the agent of change chosen to steer my path to my presence, as happy as it could be. Indeed we are all entitled to have a dream of a perfect plan, but He is the Ultimate Planner.

That is one part of Ayat 34 from Surah Loqman, which according to Muhammad Asad : “  …whereas no one knows what he will reap tomorrow …”

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With a Sigh ( No 18) – Being too critical?

 Why, why and more why ?

Four days ago while the PBS issue was very much on my mind, I sat down to see what bloggers had to comment on that issue. Just then I found my streamyx line dead. It was the work of our ‘world-class’ copper cable thieves who have caused so much heart-ache and frustration to me in particular. The regular phone interruptions in this area are the work of these culprits

                                                                                                                   

So, the next three days saw me driving some eight kilometers to where I could get a ‘free’ line. The current situation took TNB longer than usual to be put right as the thieves had removed the underground cables in three separate localities in my vicinity.

At the end of my fourth visit out for free wi-fi I stopped to buy Sinar Harian.  ( I have practically stopped wasting my precious ringgits on other better known papers which  seem bent on straightening my crooked way of thinking!.) Sinar seems to provide some colouful local news.

When I reached home I was pleasantly surprised to find my phone and streamyx back to normal. What a sigh of relief!

Now, I thought I could start a new posting after scanning what Sinar had for the day. I could hardly believe my eyes to see seven pages on the subject of mosques in Terenganu. I like this paper for that kind of reporting.

Sinar - 1st March, 2014 

Terengganu can boast of a state having the greatest number of mosques in the country. A figure of 495 mosques under two main categories was mentioned, but I could not find the number of smaller places of worships that we call ‘surau’ – as a conservative guess, the figure would not be less than  three times that number of mosques,.

I was particularly pleased to see the following statement : ….. kerajaan negeri bagaimanapun enggan dilihat sebagai juara masjid terbanyak tetapi kosong dengan jumaah …..( ….. the state government, however, does not intend to be recognised as the champion in the number of mosques but empty of worshipers …..)  

There was also mention of expensive mosques built more for show than out of need. Bravo!

Within the radius of three kilometers from my house I have three mosques (where gatherings for Friday prayers are permitted) and not less than twelve suraus; a few are, sadly, politically ‘coloured’. I must also point out that, my home being on a straight coastline, the radius can draw only half of a circle, the eastern half being tye South China Sea, except for the few islands. 

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Now I see better

 A gift of sight

Now she finally owns a pair of glasses ( See  the earlier posting - click here )

                

  ______________

It is history - best forgotten

I could smile but I could not see that well

 

And now I can see you and smile as well - Thank you

________________________

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With a Sigh ( No 18) – PBS, Oh PBS

PBS , Oh PBS

No, that is not a new political party. It is the innovative scheme to improve school education which will ensure our pride in the “world class” position.   

But last week saw our dailies highlighting vocal resistance from teachers. So, now there is a need to review PBS – just a review? In the same week there was a press statement made by a person in authority. It was headlined as “Tiada pelajar tercicir menjelang 2020” (No pupils will be left behind by 2020. I congratulate our world-class thinkers and planners. What a brave declaration that was.

What matters to Pakcik, however, is how my humble Almanar centre fares when the situation seems less than satisfactory. Over the period of 20 years we, the invisible hands of Almanar, have done something tangible; starting with just an open space with roof over for a class-room, followed with a proper room within four walls, and followed with more rooms, termed as ‘syndicate’ rooms for children to sit in discussion or to have quiet forty winks, etc. We have computers, reference books,toilets and we have kitchenette to make a cup of tea or cook Maggie mee. Occasionally, we have children spending the night on the pretext of doing group study. Sadly, despite what appears progress in our facility, the decreasing number of children joining Almanar tuition class is most depressing to Pakcik. This,indeed,matters to me, PBS does not.

This year’s intake into Form 1 tuition class has greatly slumped from as many as over 40 children in the earlier years. Today, the number of new 2014 Form 1 tuition class, stands at less than 20. That includes the last group of 8 children, all girls, who turned up one day last week. The sight of them was an unexpected joy to Pakcik, a gift from heaven. I felt the urge to record their faces. Here is the outcome.

            Sweet and innocent kids

When they all had gone home and I sat to analyse their personal data, my heart sank. Have a look at the summary of the UPSR examination results in five papers the new eight girls sat for at the end of last year.The two grades for the two papers for Malay Language are given as BI i / BI ii  ( representing essay writing /objective questions ).

  Girl No        English    Maths   Science    BI i / BI ii

 1                   E           E            E            E   /   E

 2                   D           C            D           C    /   A

     3                   C           E            C           C     /  B     

 4                   D           C            C           C     /  B

 5                   D           C            C           C     /  B

 6                   C           C            D           C     /  B

 7                   C           C            D           C     /  B

 8                   C           C            C           C     /  C

_________________________________________________

         8 children and their UPSR results

How pathetic it is to see that there is only one A-grade among them and this girl has 2 C-grades and 2 D-grades. One girl obtained all E's!

Two days later I conducted my first English lesson for the Form 1 group. I had reasons to justify my early worry when one of the new girls gave me the meaning of the English word ‘man’. She was almost certain that it meant ‘ orang perempuan tua’ (an old woman)!  

Many years ago, I nearly refused accepting a boy with grade D in English and Mathematics in his UPSR examination. Fortunately it was quickly brought to my attention that the poor boy had just lost his father who was run down by a heavy vehicle while he was riding a motorcycle on his way home from work in a FELDA scheme. Orphans are our priority and each must be given a chance. Three years later this boy’s two D-grades in English and Mathematics at UPSR level turned to A-grades in his PMR examination; and today he is a married man, expecting his first baby. That was an early lesson I learnt. Accepting a challenge is not what we tell our children but what we must prove ourselves. After all, Almanar’s motto (Berkhidmat kerana Tuhan untuk kemasyarakatan )  was not thought out for show;  for that matter, ‘Almanar’ for a name was not just a flash of fancy.       

Of the last eight new children one is an orphan and the rest have fathers who earn their living from fishing, do manual work in construction of kampong houses, drive a delivery vehicle; and one father is a specialist in climbing the tall village coconut palms to hand-pick the fruit - for a meagre daily earning to support his family.

_________________ 

On our first day last week, one girl in the front seat of the class, instead of copying from the white board, was seen copying notes from a friend sitting beside her. That was not an uncommon phenomenon. So, she has been promised a pair of glasses next week.

These are children who know they need help and have taken the first step to come to Almanar on the encouragement of a concerned teacher in English. Some local teachers do voice their support for Almanar but many of today's kampong children have no wish to waste their precious socialising time to attend free tuition classes. Many prefer to attend the mushrooming tuition classes in the vicinity - to socialise. It is widely known here that many parents believe what is handed out for free cannot be of much value! 

   __________________________ 

So when I read all about PBS and the great ‘blueprint’ in education, I sit back and smile at my Almanar 'children'. It is satisfying, in a devious way, to heave a long sigh that, by 2020, this is all but history! These eight girls will be among the first group to benefit from the improved 'blue-print' of our world-class education.   

Berkhidmat kerana Tuhan untuk kemanusiaan

Do you have snow?

I am dreaming of a white monsoon.

Two days ago, 4^th February, I received an email from an old English friend who had migrated with his family from England to one place he wrote as Pawtuxet Village in US– I would like to imagine that as the equivalent of  my Kampong Pengkalang Maras! But how equal are they?

Look at what he wrote:

______________________

“Winter in Pawtuxet village 

We usually get snow here, The weather is like UK, only colder minus 15 deg C and hotter, 37 deg C.

Hassan, do you get any snow in Malaysia?

Ian”

___________________________ 

He attached this picture:

Winter in Pawtuxet Village

How would I respond to that question?

So yesterday morning, I took my bedroom alarm clock and placed it in the shade outside my house, and this is what it read after half-an-hour.

                     18.2 C at 7.56 am

Our coldest ever Monsoon

And we are supposed to have an exceptionally cold weather ever experienced during Monsoon.

                       

Monsoon 'Snow' at Pengkalan Maras

__________________  

And now, like the great Bing Crosby I will be singing:

I'm dreaming of a white monsoon

Like the one I used to know

Where the coconut tops glisten

 ............................ 

I think that 'monsoon' goes better than 'christmas' with 'glisten'!

____________________  

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All in the family (Pt 11) – Weddings

Two Weddings of the year

Within the first ten days of this month, January 2014, the two of us had to shuttle twice between KT and KL. Of course, as usual, we did it all in our old jalopy. The trips were important as we could not possibly miss the weddings of two persons fondly considered as part of our family.

( i ) One wedding we could not miss

Months ago we were forewarned of a wedding which, had we not been invited, we would have gate-crashed to be there! It was the wedding of the first grand-daughter in that special family; a family that Pakcik chose to post about on 25^th Feb last year (Click‘A very special family’)

Three decades does not seem that long when we flip a memory page. It is still there, the time when the mother of the bride was just a teenager, the first child of a senior government officer. We were pleasantly surprised that the girl was given permission by her parents to join us on a holiday abroad. That was the sort of trust we gracefully accepted.

Three decades ago - a school girl

And today that school girl is a specialist,a Datin Professor and a proud mother of a bride.

Today - Her daughter is a bride

That is what a period of three decades has done to our life; at least in age, growth and stature. The two of us cannot help being envious that  ( insya Allah ) by the turn of the year 2014 the parents of the new bride would be grandparents and, naturally  their parents would be proud great-grandparents for the first time – beating the two of us to that coveted title.      

__________________________________ 

( ii )  Another wedding we could not miss 

And also about three decades ago, our first two children joined two boarding schools lying side by side in Cheras, less than half-an-hour’s drive from our home then. Living and socialising during their subsequent years gave these two children the opportunity to acquire a circle of very close friends. It was more noticeable in the case of our No2 (boy) who was there for five years, from Form One to Form Five. Our No 1 (girl) spent only two years from Form Four to Form Five.

Half way through his hostel life, we became aware of our No2's interest in music and the formation of a musical group, which performed at their school functions. We understood the group was good enough to be invited to the function of at least one girls’ school. To our surprise their mentor was not a musical teacher but a certain Pak Kasman, a general employee who seemed to have varied duties at the school; as a driver, general worker and watchman. Obviously he was an accomplished guitar player in his own right.

The musical group did not disintegrate when the members dispersed after their SPM examination; progressing to various universities abroad, including Cambridge, and returning years later as professionals in engineering, medicine, law , architect, etc. What is amazing to us to day is how music has kept some of them together.

 I remembers the years when they began to appreciate songs and music. Those were the days of John Lennon ( the Beatles ) and Freddie Mercury ( the Queen ). Members of the Queen, in particular, were known to be young university undergraduates. That could a motivating factor to form their own musical group. As men with varied careers these 'children' have been having their 'jamming sessions'. I understand they have, as well, been entertainers at private company-parties. 

I was not surprised when I came to know that this group of 'professionals' aspire to produce an album of their own one day!

The 'Professionals' 

Performing at a function

Their drummer (at a function)

xxxxxxxxxxx  

Full of concentration (at a private party)

Hard at work (at a private party)

             =====================================  

Pakcik and Makcik are privileged to have known these children pretty well from their days in school. They are our extended ‘children’. On the 4^th day of the New Year (2014) the only bachelor member of this special group flew  all the way to KT to personally invite us to his wedding.

The last member to start a family

How on earth could we deny his wish after all the years we have treated him like one of our children?     

The groom himself and his group( at his wedding )

The groom and gang entertainig guests                  

  An occasion to cherish

There we met our old ‘children’ ( certainly no longer young school boys! ) Indeed, it was a very happy occasion for us.  

Our 'children'

Typical smile of Engineers  from Sheffield and Bradford

Aren't they happy?

It was also an opportunity for us to meet those we had not seen for quite a while. One of them was surprised when I told him that I still remembered him too well – a boy from FELDA in Johore ; who went to the States to do aeronautical engineering.

  

______________________________ 

Those were two happy occasions of two weddings early this year.

Isn’t life richer when we can claim having so many successful ‘children’?

    ______________________________

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Pakcik Reminisces ( Pt 34 ) – The Unforgettable Pauline

A Calendar a Year 

We are more than a fortnight into 2014 and I am just about to draft my first posting. After being so belated, to wish a Happy New Year seems superfluous and frivolous. Let Pakcik give a simple excuse; that I have been busy – driving in and out of Terengganu for weddings, and managing the new intakes into Almanar.    

As I sat resting in an easy chair holding a new 2014 diary, my memory flashed back to a time long gone. I recall how faithfully I used to sit to fill the first page of each year’s diary with silent prayers and endless resolutions, refreshed one year after another with a renewed determination. Those days are over. A lap-top is never like pages of a diary, pages which age and can turn yellowish/brownish with time, or can even be damaged by silver fish, but cannot be readily altered or reedited.      

And there, on my writing-table, lies a beautiful calendar with an accompanying letter written in the unmistakable hand of a very dear old friend, Pauline.

A 2014 Calendar

My memory goes back over thirty years ago when we arrived in London, our temporary home. How timely it was that I had to spend some time working in UK, as our No1 was about to join an A-level college, and our No2 was to follow later. 

Among the very first few office colleagues I was introduced in that office building towering high over the Thames and the Waterloo Bridge, was that young English lady who has been a dear friend to this day. Pauline has never failed to send us a beautiful calendar every year over the last twenty years. Isn’t this a record?

                                        August                                                        

                        
A couple of years after our return to KL Pauline and her mother flew in to visit us. One unforgettable incident, that tickles us all till this day, happened one morning when we were in Masjid Negara. Excited over the beauty of the mosque, Pauline did not realise that one part of the marble floor had just been mopped, and she took a fall - harmless enough to become a joke. Over the phone on the Christmas eve three weeks ago we talked and joked about that incident.

What saddens Makcik and me most is that our Pauline has not been too well in recent years. In her handwritten letter accompanying her 2014 calendar she wrote:

“…… I am still recovering from the major operation I had on my stomach and bowl in June but, although not right, I am a lot better than I was. I have booked to go on two cruises next year (2014) – two weeks to the Med in May with my niece, and one week to Norway in July with my friend and my 6-year old Goddaughter. I am looking forward to both. I do wish I could fly but the doctors say ‘no’ – I would be out there to see you!! ……”

I instinctively know, we will meet again one of these days.    

Pakcik can happily go on reminiscing over this very special English lady. Perhaps I would, one day, write about her special love for an active life, especially in Girls Guide. She has been at it for 50 years and, believe it or not, she is now holding the rank of a Commissioner. Her health and having to move in a wheelchair do not prevent her from driving, yearly cruising and Guiding.

We wish all the best for her.

____________________________________   

Berkhidmat kerana Tuhan untuk kemanusiaan

2013’s Final Count  Down

  What it looks like right now as I watch from my rear window. Will the forecast of another flood truly come?

I am going to quote something from an article in yesterday’s NST.

“ The truth is, once we live beyond 72 – which is the average life expectancy for men – we are literally preparing to depart….”

Tan Sri Ani Arope, about whom the article was written, knows how to express it better. Now in his early 80s he puts it as  "waiting in the departure lounge of life".

The way he puts it reminds me, now trailing not far behind him in age, of the front pages of my old annual diaries. Just before the end of the last day of the year some sixty years ago, I would be sitting quietly trying to compose my thoughts for the new years. Invariably I expressed my gratitude for whatever success I had achieved, declared my resolutions for the new year and prayed that He would continue to help. Today, each time I glance at what I wrote then (in broken Arabic!), knowing how much of my prayers, and more, have been granted, I can never hold back my tears. Now, the elder ones of my grand-children are at the age I was then. They are totally oblivious of what went through their grandfather’s mind those years when he was at their today's age. They are the fast forward of his future then.  

Strange enough, not once in those old pages I sought for a long life. Now, on my prayer mat I thank Him for giving me my life and giving me my partner in life etc, etc ….”,  and pray that while I sit ‘waiting in the departure lounge of ‘life’, HE would slightly delay the ‘plane’, giving me the chance to catch up with my lost time.

-------------------------

Since I have ceased buying diaries for my private thoughts I am using this ‘open’ diary to wish my visitors and readers another year of success and happiness, mindful of the gifts we all have received in life. And I pray the same as I do for my fellow passengers sitting around me.

_______________________ 

I will leave this last page of 2013 with a part of a well known soliloquy: 

“Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, 

Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,

To the last syllable of recorded time;

And all our yesterdays have lighted fools

The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!

Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player

That struts and frets his hour upon the stage

And then is heard no more. It is a tale

Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury

Signifying nothing.” 

                                      Macbeth

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What Pakcik received ( Pt 5 ) – The Cracked Pot

(Posted on Boxing Day of 2013)

Cracked but not broken

On 22^nd October 2011 Pakcik posted a short story about a piece of brick which dented a Jaguar ( click HERE ). A silent visitor, a school teacher, kindly emailed a short note to Pakcik. With it came a short story copied below (less the picture).

This one is broken, no longer carcked

“Reading Pakcik's posting on 'The Brick' reminds me of a story which I came across in a newspaper years ago. There are many versions of the story on internet. The story is titled 'The Cracked Pot'; maybe Pakcik have read the story as well but here it goes;

The Cracked Pot Story

A water bearer in India had two large pots, one hung on each end of a pole which he carried across his neck. One of the pots had a crack in it, but the other pot was perfect and always delivered a full portion of water at the end of the long walk from the stream to the master's house.  The cracked pot arrived only half full.

For a full two years this went on daily, with the bearer delivering only one and a half pots full of water into his master's house.

Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments, perfect to the end for which it was made.

But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own imperfection, and miserable that it was able to accomplish only half of what it had been made to do.

One day, after two years of what it perceived to be a bitter failure, the cracked pot spoke to the water bearer by the stream. "I am ashamed of myself, and I want to apologise to you."

Why?" asked the bearer. "What are you ashamed of?"

"I have managed, for these past two years, to deliver only half my load. Because of this crack in my side I could only deliver half load. Half of it leaked out all the way back to your master's house. Because of my flaws, you have to do more work. You have never got full value from your efforts," the pot said.

The water bearer felt sorry for the old cracked pot, and in his compassion he said, "Now, when we are walking back to the master's house, I want you to watch the beautiful flowers along our path."

Indeed, as they went up the hill, the old cracked pot took notice of the sun warming the beautiful wild flowers on one side of the path, and this helped to cheered it a little. But at the end of the trail, the cracked pot still felt bad because it had leaked out half its load, and so again it apologised to the bearer for its failure.

The bearer said to the pot, "Did you notice that there were flowers only on your side of your path, but not on the other pot's side?

As I knew known all along about your flaw, I took advantage of it. I planted flower seeds on your side of the path, and every day while we walk back from the stream, you've watered them. For two years I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate my master's table. Without you being just the way you are, he would not have this beauty to grace his house."

Moral: Each of us has our own unique flaws. We're all cracked pots.

But it's the cracks and flaws we each have that make our lives together so very interesting and rewarding. You've just got to take each person for what he is, and look for the good in him.

There is a lot of good in us! Blessed are the flexible, for they shall not be bent out of shape.

_____________________________ 

Having so many flaws myself, I take comfort in imagining myself being a ‘cracked pot’. Wassalaam.”

___________________________

Dear Cikgu,

Thank you for your comments and the ‘cracked pot’ story. Yes, Cikgu, you are indeed a ‘cracked pot’, invigorating and nourishing so many children of your kampong to be useful men and women.

I would love to be one as well, Cikgu.

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