My Ramadhan : Day 11

Al Hambra : the glory of the past

Thursday Day 11

The day we remember our teachers and what they mean to us. Everyone of us started to see the world through our teachers. In the early days of my childhood I had teachers from school. Most of them were very strict and “bekeng” to most of us. In the 70s we had mostly Chinese and Indian teachers. The chinese headmaster was very bad and totally unapproachable. That was from my perspective as a student. Are you supposed to fear you teachers? How does the exchange of knowledge will happen if you feared your teachers so much? Not much really. We had a few Malay teachers and they were no help either. I remember trying very hard to complete a peribahasa homework. I just could not sleep and cried in bed until mom came. She did not know peribahasa also so she asked me to get help from my brother. He helped a little and my stress level started to disappear. I am not sure I learnt anything from school; it just a place you spent until father came home from work.

Born and raised here…..not much has changed since I left

After school I went to a religious lesson at the mosque. The ustaz was really nice and he asked me to join the class as I was looking through the windows. I had no money to pay for the lesson(but later found out that it was free) or books to go with the lessons.the ustaz said it was okay just sit there and listen. And thats what I did. I owe a lot to that ustaz and pray for his good life where ever he might be.

Happy Teachers Day !Ustaz….

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