When I received my appointment letter as a teacher in 1971, my father said my school was in a neighbourhood known for gang fights and crime. He thought I would not survive in that environment.

But my pupils taught me things I would never have learnt from a brand-name school.

I taught biology, something not easy for pupils who came from non-English-speaking homes. I remember teaching the anatomy of the eye; halfway through the lesson, a student said: “Orbit ah.”

I was impressed; they already knew that the eyeball lies in the socket called the orbit. They kept chanting “orbit”, though. From their poor explanation and later in the staffroom, I learnt that they were saying they were in orbit and had not understood what I had taught.

Classrooms in those days had wooden shelves with sliding doors. Almost every class I went to had the doors kicked in by rough children. I even witnessed boys kicking and shouting “Li Xiao Long” repeatedly.

I angrily went to one of my classes and asked for Li Xiao Long to stand up and answer for his crimes. The class broke into laughter, and one of the girls finally told me who he was.

I had never heard of him, although I might have heard of Bruce Lee. I then went for my one and only Bruce Lee movie, The Way of the Dragon, and began to understand why my boys were idolising and imitating him.

I remained in that school for 10 years and was pleased to hear of pupils doing well in whatever field they chose, as long as they contributed to society after they left the school.

One of my pupils became a national goalkeeper and won many accolades. In school, he spent more time on the field than in class. I guess that was his gift.

When I was an Education Ministry curriculum officer, one of my colleagues told me about a good chai tow kuay stall near my home.

When I went to the coffee shop, a young man was frying the kuay. When my turn came, he looked up and then exclaimed: “Lao shi.”

He was one of my students from the Chinese stream. His food was really good, and I was proud of him.

Another time, when I ordered curtains, the supervisor who came to my home recognised me as one of his teachers and instantly gave me a 10-per-cent discount.

Here was an empowered young man who had a creative touch, from how he pleated the curtains’ folds.

Many more “passed” through my hands and the portals of that school, including a few lawyers, at least one university lecturer, one pastor, several teachers, nurses and some entrepreneurs.

My pupils taught me that what they need are listening ears and teachers to be patient, to talk with them, learn with them and from them. They taught me that despite their disadvantaged backgrounds, they would one day arrive somewhere if they persevered.

ABOUT THE WRITER:

Lim Chye Tin is a retired principal.