a day, complete

being planted in a new place allows me to rediscover what keeps me happy and fulfilled amid all the expectations that an invisible society places on you. it was last tuesday. and i had just concluded another round of OP rehearsals with 3 classes. we decided to prank around and captured these shots as little memories of us trying to find alot of fun amid the grading and call to self-growth that mark these cycles of college life.

i like my classes. never mind if my day starts at 530am and ends 6 or 8pm during more intense seasons. i look forward to meeting them. i miss being in the classrooms during term breaks. i guess holidays can sometimes be a call to return to self. so much of me feeling complete and integrated at work is sometimes 'determined' by my students and to some extent, the school culture which we are located within. like any interested student keen to try out strange experiences and learn from from fresh encounters, my pupils' desire to give their best to every small and minute detail for this OP means alot to me. in teaching and guiding them, i have also learnt to withdraw at times, esp if they become too dependent on my ideas. i want them to grow independent and own this project for themselves and not because of my bidding.

one day, the hour ended so well i decided to head to macrit alone for another long run at sundown... it was a day of thanksgiving that arrived unnoticed. the good lessons were warmly supported by cheerful and resilient learners that do their part and make your day worthwhile. i sat on one of the boardwalks and listened again to the first calling that led me here. i pray for grace to remain open, enough the sense the purpose that keeps me going, to find fulfilment within.

gordon , melissa

once awhile, people return to bless your life. mel wrote me a card when she returned from taiwan recently. i didn't really teach her but a timely note dropped into her life led her to a new shore she always wanted to find. it happened the same way when i had dinner with my former student yesterday. he insisted on treating me. an old teachers' day gift, he promised.

it has been about 5 years since mel and gordon left college. about to graduate from nus and eager to explore new terrains, gordon had given some thought about teaching and served with distinction as an intern in a secondary school here. he was offered a scholarship and wanted to discern further, whether he was really ready to say yes. i saw myself in him- all 23 and open to what life may bring. sharing at depth about what teaching meant to both of us, i was led to recall times when i shared other stories and truths, the stuff of life which i have since forgotten. he affirmed our past and returned me home; a word that healed, a decision to forgive, patience to bear, regrets to carry and life broken whole, for others...when to find a friend, when to give, and take and how say goodbye. about mel, she was left in a corner after the release of results. fearful of a future she was not ready to see. i led her to another colleague who gave her courage to do her undergraduate studies in taiwan.

i left in both of them a part of my own searching life and now i glimpsed again the decisions gordon struggles to make even as mel revisits singapore with more than a smile etched in her heart. i retrieved my own past as i saw two futures on the same road i walked. stunned, the right words eluded me. but there was little doubt of why i was put into their lives, to guide them to paths i can never take.

as we parted, gordon said words i never expected to hear even as mel penned her thoughts in chinese (i struggled to decipher with all my might). i never understood what thanksgiving meant till i learnt to receive that day. i sat still in the cafe as gordon continue to speak. i looked beyond the life that sat before me...restoring what i lost even as he regaled and helped me to retrace the stories. i know why life brings a season of loss only to bear fruit in later years. the pain no longer there...the anguish, cast away.

that short hour stretched into night. i no longer see beyond the cold windows in that old favourite cafe. before we parted, i blessed him in my own unknown ways. i drove home that night, with the lamps lightening the long road i was burdened by. like mel, i left only to find back the reason to carry on living, if only to make a difference, if only to receive...finding the freedom that giving brings. and the deep gratitude, just knowing. and seeing two lives, released.

cher's dae

A note from Mariya, a former student who has since become a teacher herself. I was surprised to find myself in her recollections - thought my goth lessons were 'ahem...' I hope reading this recollection will remind us of our own teachers who made and are still making an impact in our lives: to Mrs Lourdes Nathan (everything in pri school), Mdm Loh Lai Kuan (Econs), Ms Caroline Yeow (Lit), Prof Maribeth Erb (Anthropology)...and all who gave me another chance to know myself and discover all that I can do, learn, teach and serve with the grace God gives... Teaching is the profession that teaches all the other professions. No, I'm not going to wax lyrical (or idealistic more like it) about the noble and virtuous nature of the profession. Like any other job, teaching definitely has its fair share of frustrations. Work doesn't seem to end, marking never appears to cease, juggling teaching and the other peripheral duties can totally make us flip sometimes. But I think in the end, what keeps me (and I'm sure many other teachers) are the students.

I've had several teachers in the course of my education that influenced me to choose this profession. These amazing individuals did not only teach; they educated. What I remember most are the life lessons, the sharing of anecdotes, the motivation, the support and the unwavering belief that we could make it.

The earliest memory I have of a great teacher is Mrs Amy Pang; my form teacher in Primary 1. I still hold Cikgu Saripah, my Secondary 4 Higher Malay teacher and Mr Salim Akbar, my Secondary 3 form teacher and upper secondary history teacher in high regard.

Most fresh in my memory were the Literature lessons in Pioneer Junior College. Mr Eddie Koh's Lit lessons were far from ordinary. It is safe to say that I went to school only looking forward to Lit periods. I remember the highlighted and annotated Dracula and Jane Eyre texts, discussions that turned my world inside out, the Gothic Lit tutorials that left me all bedazzled and craving for more. I remember analysing Alfian Sa'at's The Merlion and John Donne's religious and love poetry. I learnt the most about myself during those two years, doing Literature.

Various professors and lecturers in NUS affirmed my belief in the value of education. I never regretted majoring in Sociology. It totally changed my life, my beliefs, my mindset and my views towards many issues in life.Of course, tribute goes to both my parents, who have been teaching for as long as I can remember. When I was younger, Saturday mornings were spent in my mother's school's Homec Room, where I'll do my colouring and work on assessment books while she conducted her ECA. I also had the opportunity to work alongside my father when I did relief teaching in his school two years ago.

Some people thought that teaching was an obvious career choice for me, but I did give it enough thought before I took the plunge. You don't get rich teaching. You apparently function in this "protected bubble" - heck, it's just students; it's not the "real world." I didn't carry much idealism with me when I started, I think that's why I am able to keep going when things appear bleak.I did not choose teaching because it was the "last resort." I chose teaching because I didn't want to waste my knowledge; whatever little I have. I am not the kind of person who'd do volunteer work or sacrifice time for social causes; so this is my way of paying it forward. I chose teaching because I want to effect changes, however small, in students' lives.

I want to open their minds and get them thinking about things that they have taken for granted all this while (which is why I'm thankful that I'm teaching GP; never mind that I still have a lot to learn in terms of subject mastery).

To all my comrades-in-education (NIE coursemates, colleagues, friends, former teachers, my parents), have a meaningful Teachers' Day. When we're bogged down by things that detract us from teaching, remember the kids. :)

lorong buangkok - a decade after

I covered buangkok as part of my honours thesis back in university. it's been almost a decade since the project was concluded. one of my pw groups here at raffles is covering the same site at this point in time.



was surprised to find this video on youtube. watching it makes me recall the lanes i walked, the mossie bites i bore and the rich stories shared when i interviewed the residents on-site.



i don't know if this place will be razed to the ground in time. when it goes, it may evoke alot more hard sentiments than expected...the same with the national theatre, library and stadium...the same with pulau seking and tekong and countless other landscapes that mean something to many people, even if they have not worked or lived here before. gone will be the ancient attachments to place, trees, relations and home... these places cannot be recreated once they are gone. the loss is irrevocable, permanent. our understanding of home goes deeper than the provisions and policies of HDB. it takes alot to be emotionally anchored to a place...the stories shared in these clips point to a part of my life which i still try to reclaim today...through the lessons shared in the classroom and my own academic interest in landscape, art and spirituality

running again

i wanted to do stationary runs in the gym on mondays. i drove to macritchie instead. first time by myself, alone on the road. i left right after school. in my mind- been almost a year since i stopped outdoor runs, having confined myself to a threadmil. post-hospital fears. i was afraid the pain might return once i lay my feet on hard terrain. i stretched, put on my shoes and took a light jog round the boardwalk. i was alone most of the time, save the families of macques and the lone couple that walked by. i ran for 3omins and gradually acclerated with no sign of pain on heel, shin and back. i felt good...think i'm ok now. i trudged on sunlit routes, relished the crush of leaves on the base of my shoes. i jogged to the edge of a knoll, reaching the close of day, a simple happy man. and waters lapped quiet beside my feet. there is spirit in the leaves that rustle song... i smell evening in the air. so grateful i can run again.

birch trees, seasons white

Late Spring

Coming into the high room again after years

after oceans and shadows of hills and the sounds of lies

after losses and feet on stairs

after looking and mistakes and forgetting

turning there thinking to find

no one except those I knew

finally I saw you

sitting in white

already waiting

you of whom I had heard

with my own ears since the beginning

for whom more than once

I had opened the door

believing you were not far

w.s. merwin (b.1927)

remj

be still, this time

as your note finds a place

in my hands

your words invite me home.

you used the word 'honour'

to remember me and the times spent.
i come back today, light one candle and pen you this prayer.

be still...

this grief now tears

for you

blessing: prayer for new home

Constellations by rev lynn james

We find our way in the dark

using light from the lives of others.

Their sufferings and celebrations

are like constellations in the midnight sky,

orienting patterns above the horizon.

Tracing their paths through the night,

we connect our stories to one another;

circling together, we turn toward morning...

in memory: ho yi xin (08S04) 1991-2009

i taught yi xin last year. she was a hardworking girl who put alot of thought into her assignments. once, i praised her eom and pi as one of the very best scripts received. she wrote about the journey of illegal migrants from myanmar and how to go about addressing their plight. she articulated her case well and penned her thoughts in flawless english. it was an original reading which no one talked about. she submitted many scripts and wanted that perfect piece. but she walked alone most times. her hands always clutching her bag, as if there was something else she wanted to unravel in her heart. once, she asked me where i studied, what i majored in uni, what i like to read. and in that second, i sensed she was looking ahead, eager to forge her own future. she was always a private person and did not share much with her classmates.

there was no time nor place arranged to mourn her loss. her life became ash in a moment...eighteen years of growth and struggle, gone.

Lord. may your perpetual light shine on yi xin always...

lead her home...to find the peace and acceptance she longs...

amen.

intercession

i read about their lives. and these are two persons whom i pray for. i hope to stand in solidarity with them as they battle the ravage they find within or the tyranny that opts to lock them in. there is only the fierce love that comes with dark suffering, and the gravity that draws its power from love; to feel for your own country and know what needs to be done for the children when daylight breaks.

may our classrooms not become cloisters to keep us safe from a greater world where justice and charity are borne with hope and pain...when knowledge and wisdom are understood in light of their ability to know and heal... our smile as a path to rest...delighted we will find courage to own our mission in the the years to come.

tree-heart

ken's granny passed away on a tuesday. loved, loving...in dedication-


a sky crumpled and silent... and this cold rain. God may take the sun away. but the tree of grief still stands. we rest under. and pray. an imagined faith made perfect in memory. leaves fall and draw me to a faraway home. to our shelter and past. these albums, the pages of our stories, to be held and noticed once more. i read the lines you penned on its symmetry now that you are no longer there. listening, and missing you, i long to be a child again.

Grief by carol ann duffy (b. 1955)

Grief, your gift, unwrapped,

my empty hands made heavy,

holding when they held you

like an ache; unlooked for,

though my eyes stare inward now

at where you were, my star, my star;

and undeserved, the perfect choice

for one with everything, humbling

my heart; unwanted, too, my small voice

lost for words to thank you with; unusual,

how it, given, grows to fill a day, a night,

a week, a month, teaching its text,

love's spinster twin, my head bowed,

learning, learning; understood.

----- to furanshi------

three friends

we've known each other since 1992. one of my best friends. edward left a good career in family medicine for the catholic priesthood, to be a different healer in ways we least expect. last sunday, he flew to rome to continue his studies. it will be three years before we meet again.

f's relationship crumbled after many years of commitment. it's hard to begin again.

cons completed a musical recently. i watched her sing her lines from the depths of her own heart. the stage broke open that same heart...we learn what it means to forgive.

a shower's just fallen. from my window, i see old trees renewed, fresh with rain.
they grow still,

grateful,

present.

they learn to receive.

and every tree has its past.

life goes on...

we hold your journey safe with us

travelogue- jun 09

'born of stars, how can we not burn?'

mount kinabalu-sabah, east malaysia

imprisoned by cycles of rebirth...

buddha looked, and understood.

cheung chau, lamma island- hong kong

the dead learns to rest.

while we pause, and love what remains.

khao lak, thailand

beginnings

never knew i would hold an art exhibition in my lifetime. i thank my teachers joanna, kowling and my community at heartspace for the opportunity to share our works on this occasion. i am moved by the support and presence given by my family, colleagues, former students and lifetime friends who turned up to celebrate our journeys with me.

all pieces were sold and some asked if i was happy to 'achieve' this. unknown to many, i flunked art at o-levels and these three days turned out to be a way of letting go a burdened past that scarred me somewhat...i wished my art teacher was here.

on a deeper note, 'achievement' isn't really the point. i was just happy that all of us took courage to share our stories through our works. many took time to read, ponder and listen. that was enough for me. it motivates us to continue painting and sharing our experiences of life, wonder and Christ with others who come our way.

beyond monetary affirmation. my teacher shared once that every painting has a owner out there, looking for that one piece. they know it when they see it. and will readily adopt it into their home...

i like that.