THERE’S a quiet magic in remembering the classroom where it all began. Each of us sat at identical tables and in the cool breeze of the ceiling fan amid the yellow glow of ageing light bulbs and the piercing rays of the sun through the window.
Our shoes scuffed the same ground trotting to class, queueing at the canteen and chasing footballs across the field — we were children with big dreams, hearts open to the world and the limitless possibilities that school and life would unfold.
When we were young, every classmate felt like a friend. The classroom was a melting pot of personalities: some classmates were smart, some charming, some noisy, some clever, and some so quiet that only the teachers glimpsed their gifts.
Yet, there was no barrier between us — not of race, not of class, not of creed. The smart ones were always first in class, bursting with answers and confidence, and those who finished last still brought laughter, kindness and various stories wherever they went.
Each morning we restarted our journey on equal footing, bound by friendship, sharing the snacks our sisters or mothers packed and stories.
The report card was important then. But it was a momentary mirror: life gave us different scripts and stages to perform on. While some shone instantly, some shone later, their true talents unfolding as life put them to the test, proving that success is not measured by grades but by the courage to try again.
We outgrew the little chairs, not just in height, but also in ambition.
We discovered a unique world after crossing that gate for the last time — scientists, lawyers, bus drivers, e-hailing drivers, nurses, doctors, some battling invisible storms, some finding gold, some carrying sadness, some radiating joy.
A classroom is not just about marks, it is also about the marks we leave on each other.
The results in class are reflected in how we greet strangers, persevere through difficulty, choose to stand for what is right. The beauty of values and principles outlasts arithmetic, and respect endures beyond geography tests.
Today, looking at ourselves, we marvel at our great past and cherish the memory of our teachers who saw no colour, no class, no creed, but worked hard to turn us into good citizens.
Behind the scenes, an army moved quietly — a headmistress, teachers, the tuckshop aunty who remembered every name and allergy, the bus driver who waited through the rain, the despatch boy sprinting between buildings, the silent office staff, the ever-smiling librarians, the energetic gardener and the industrious science lab assistant.
Our teacher’s patience became a blueprint for dealing with failure. A tuckshop aunty’s hug was the answer to a lonely day.
“Education’s purpose is to replace an empty mind with an open one,” wrote Malcolm Forbes, and in this classroom, openness was more than a lesson — it was a way of life.
Among us were those who earned medals for academics and/or excellence at work, state and national titles and those whose victories were simply surviving hardship, persisting through loneliness, and learning to forgive.
The beauty of our lives was crafted not in the results of tests and exams, but in the resilience, empathy, patience and hard lessons absorbed between the lines of textbooks, and in the corridors of hard knocks and the cracks of the schoolyard.
Our teachers did not only teach, they also believed. In every child, they saw a story yet unwritten.
Years later, gathering at reunions or scrolling through old photos, we marvel not just at our own journey, but also at the under-appreciated architecture of our early days.
What truly prepared us was not only the curriculum, but also compassion, curiosity and the community.
As adults, we look back with gratitude at a classroom that built our lives. Not all that glittered was gold, and not every victory was visible then. Yet, every lesson in every class mattered greatly. Teachers presented the past, revealed the present and created the future. Their words and warmth set small stones on a path that would become the road to our destinies.
To every teacher — especially Gillian Fernandez, the late Chua Ah Tee and our beloved headmistress, the late Datin Paduka Dr Mother Mangalam, to the school staff, librarian, tuckshop aunty Amirtham, and bus driver Mayilvaganam, Parames the very friendly lab assistant, the hard-working hunching gardener, Pak Cik Yahya, our agile traffic warden… thank you.
Each of you shaped more than young minds. You nurtured hearts that learned compassion, discipline and gratitude.
From that same humble classroom, we began a journey that made us not just students, but responsible citizens and better human beings.
As John Dewey once said: “Education is not preparation for life; education is life itself.”
That classroom, where we once sat shoulder to shoulder, became the first chapter of who we are today.
Looking back, I stand content and thankful for the teachings, the friendships, and the priceless lessons that continue to guide every step of life’s journey.
* The writer is an award-winning public relations practitioner and an active social worker who wrote the Estate Chronicles column in the NST in 2023 and 2024
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