THE SIXTIES, MALACCA HIGH

I remember vividly my first day in school in 1963. All of us, Form One students were gathered in the quadrangle subdued and awed, waiting for the momentous. In hushed tones we were discussing the sorry fate of our primary school-mates who had not the good fortune to be sent to the High School.

The sense of cocky pride and accomplishment that I felt that day I do not think I have felt since. High School meant class, distinction, honor. There was only one High School in the country.

The momentous happened, rather erupted in the quadrangle with the thunderous roar from an obscure source. Obscure, because there suddenly appeared before us four teachers each looking perfectly capable of originating the tremor and even of repeating it.

We knew then our faith in the school was well grounded and our expectations and aspirations grew from that moment. I am sure there was no one there at that time who wished he was somewhere else. Our teachers were very personal then. They took it upon themselves to make our hair-styles, dress, sitting-posture, speech, even teeth and fingernails their business even though they needed only to have bothered about the length of our hair, uniforms, class attendance and grammar.

We had to pay a price for this of course. Apart from the traditional double-ruler knock, the swipe across the back and occasional slap, there were other ingenious variations such as the duster and chalk missile, (which if caught, was considered a "good-catch" and fair-play) the "catapult" an especially tricky maneuver which consisted of two burly class-mates swinging the offender from the door to the furthest point possible, the "sock (sarong kaki) in the mouth" specially reserved for obscenities in class and the "marathon race" which meant running around the track for the duration of the lesson, including on occasions, double-periods. Punishment was an exercise in originality and the choice from a reservoir of alternatives was often awaited with a sense of anticipation by all. Sometimes the class could participate in the decision.

But almost without exception, the punished student soon became the teacher's "best friend" and the envy of others. Invariably the teacher would start the lesson with, "And how are you today, my good friend ?" "Good Sir," "Very Good", was the reply and the lesson would begin usually with the first question of the subject addressed to the teacher's "best friend".

The school became our second home and since everybody told us we were the best, so we were.
...

We were never specifically told to do our best. We just did when we saw our teachers waiting for us at the field at 6.00 o'clock in the morning during week-ends and spending their holidays with us on game tours or scout camps sharing our jokes and our meals.

Studentship in High School was an exercise in time utilization and management. One could pick up any interest and the school would pick it up for the student and provide him with the facilities. But the day, and sometimes the night belonged to the school. Days were short, and nights shorter.

'Tis of such stuff that a school is made of - of teachers primarily and the students they mould.

Thank you.

T. R.

School Captain 1969