The World of Tai Tai

Sometimes I don't feel like returning home. Upon alighting on the nest, it is disheartening to see everyone so stressed.  Ah Hui is always complaining about the disorderliness of the house, her lament filling every corner, casting a pall of gloom in everyone's heart.  Mama, already eighty years old, is struggling hard to meet her benchmark of neatness, only to find that at the end of the day, her effort too little to please the forever grumbling daughter. Obviously, Ah Hui is bringing home her stress, demanding everyone to follow her order, in compensation for what she fails to get at her workplace.  She has not realised that, but I can tell that from her every action. A newly appointed leader, she finds herself being ostracised, having to deal with hostility from time to time.  Every minute, to her, is a battle. Even the slightest slack invites disasters. No wonder she is all uptight.  When others are on vacation, she is plattering away at her office, alwa...

She went about the household chores as usual, old-age making her effort seem laborious, her back hunched and her face contorted with exertion, large beads of sweat running down her face, which was pocked with deep lines.  He kept her in a fixed gaze, following her every move, his lower lip quivering, and so was his left cheek. Once striated with muscle, his arms were now stick-like.  Midway through sweeping, she sighed and stopped, holding onto the broomstick, as if it were the only thing that could prop her up. The sight of this made him crease his brow. In a voice close to a whisper, he said, 'Lan, rest now. You've done too much.'  All at once, the hunched body stiffened, and the face that turned in the old man's direction was full of bitterness and fury. In a sharp voice, she snapped, "Nonsense, if I had not done all this, who would have cleaned the house? You!?"

I have a love-hate relationship with the English Language. It is the language I teach and the medium I use in creative writing. I love the sound of it and the flexibility of its words.  However, the language was used as a tool against me for almost twenty years. In spite of my carefulness with grammar, many so-called English Language experts described me as an incompetent user and teacher of the language(perhaps my bad stutter), not because they were better than me but it was their warped sense of grammar that had clouded their mind's eye from what is acceptable(I copied verbatim a quote by Thomas Hardy on a whiteboard and some teachers remarked that it was riddled with errors). The really good ones won't be snooping around detecting your errors. It is the half-baked ones who like to pinpoint your non-existent errors( a boy was asked to jot down the frequency of my alleged wrong grammar usage).  Now that a new chapter of my life has begun. I found myself loo...

Growing up, the presence of a Peranakan mother added spark and colour to our life, particularly during Chinese New Year. Mum created magic with her mortar and pestle, warming our stomachs with her rempah-rich specialties, the likes of Sambal Hei, Curried Chicken, Ayam Keluak, and Gor Heong. We may be poor, but Mum always made sure that there was enough rice for the three of us. While we were busy tucking in, she and papa silently ate Maggie Mee. Upon inquiry, mum said,' We have had enough of rice and the switch to instant noodles helps to offset our jadedness.' Hearing that, I would pout and ask for a sip of the soup. Mum gently shook her head and said it was too salty for me. Puzzled, I resumed eating and soon forgot about the instant noodles.

Just minutes before the final school bell rang, rain suddenly fell in heavy sheets, making sizzling sounds on the zinc roof.  Upon real iz ing that I had left my umbrella at home, I wondered if the bus driver would come and wait for me at the gate.  I sure hoped so! Unfortunately, when I came to the foyer, there was no sign of the bus.  My instincts told me that the driver must be waiting for me at the same old junction, a good distance away.  Biting my lower lip, I ventured into the rain, striding in the direction of the junction.  The icy cold needles pelted down on me and I was soaked to the skin.  The uneven parts of the road were flooded and while trying to avoid bumping into a run ning boy, I accidentally stepped into a deep puddle of water.   Just then, my cell phone rang, so I quickly fished it out.  The caller was my bus driver.  I swiped my finger across the screen to answer it, but the rain made it too slippery.  I trie...

Sunday Painting                                                                       Saturday Painting

Class Form 2Daro(Lower Intermediate) Date & Day 10 Jan 2017 / Tuesday Time/Duration 4.10 - 5.10pm /60 minutes Theme Social Issues Topic How do you contribute to society? Learning Outcomes By the end of the lesson, students will be able to: * Talk about  how they can contribute to society in a conversation using 3 wh-questions. * write a reflection about what they have learnt.  HOTS Why is it important to contribute to society? Content & Teaching Procedures 1. Teacher elicits from students how they can  contribute to society. 2. Teacher writes out students' responses. 3. Teacher writes out 3 questions on board and asks students to use them in a discussion on what they can do to contribute to society. E.g: a. Can you share with us what you can do to contribute to society? b. What motivates you to do that? c. How do you promote this activity to more people? 4.  Teacher asks students to respond to the qu...

From the gate, my new school extends itself into a giant welcoming circle.  When I step into the foyer, a garden comes into view, lifting my spirits...   Owing to unforeseen circumstances, I sought a transfer out of the school that had been my second home for nearly twenty years.  After two months of anxious waiting, I was relieved to learn that my life as a teacher would continue at a school not far from my house.  Unlike most teachers, who have had multiple transfers, this is only my second school.    I know I ought to be happy about the outcome, yet my heart i s beset with the fear for the unknown, which I guess is only natural.  Will I feel welcomed by the other staff and the students?  Will I fit in?  Finally I set foot in my new workplace for the first time and take an early morning exploration around the school, amazed by the number of classroom s  it houses.   The school garden, nestled in the quadrangle, i...

Everyday, when you enter the same old place, and see the same old smile light up on the same old face, have you realised that life is thriving at its best? What if the smile you are used to seeing has turned sour, and is replaced by a sulky pout? How would you perceive the world then? No matter how tired and dispirited you are, dawn still turns to morning, morning to afternoon, afternoon to evening, and evening to night. Not a single period is skipped or switched. Life goes on and on, and why letting sadness deny you the joy of appreciating life? You won't cry forever. As the saying goes, every dog has its own day. One day, as soon as your tears have run dry, happiness will beckon you. Stress, in every respect, is temporary. At the end of every storm sunlight will break through the clouds.

Two weeks into the new year, I began to experience the onslaught of stress. In the dead of night, I tossed and turned in bed, feeling fidgety.  Even when I had sunken into sleep, I would wake up with a start one to two hours later, shocked to have realized that I had unconsciously bitten my own tongue in my sleep. When roaming in town, I easily felt drained and tired.  As I nursed my drink at table in a coffee shop, watching pedestrians and traffic go by, I would wonder at the irrevocability of life.  At this thought all sorts of unpleasant memories would assail me, making me want  to scream. Then, nausea got the better of me, making me dry heave and rush to the toilet, vomiting out whatever I had compulsively wolfed down. That done, at the faucet, watching the reflection of my flushed face in the mirror as I rinsed my mouth, self-hate rose from within me.  My right ear, as if punctured, hissed sharply as usual.  Nothing could shut it out. At h...

Upon entering my new school, I found it extend around in a semi- circle, where management offices and laboratories neatly arrange themselves in serried ranks. The other half of the circle houses the canteen and the school cooperative. In the middle of a spacious concourse stands a huge column,around which a staircase spirals itself up and terminates at the 3rd floor, conjoining the front building, forming part of its upper floors. What a huge school, consisting of three storeys, All my five classes are on levels one and two, each containing an average of 42 students.