Life at the Asrama was a bustling symphony, where every note and rhythm were orchestrated with meticulous precision. The lazy days of idleness were a distant memory, for within the hallowed halls, every aspect of life, from the precise timing of meals to the structured intervals of sleep, study, camaraderie, and even the most ordinary of nature's calls, adhered to regimented schedules.
Among the many threads that wove the tapestry of my Asrama life, the tuition classes held a prominent place. Undoubtedly, these educational journeys influenced my academic path significantly. However, as I reflect on my Form 1 year, the names of those teachers have faded into the depths of my memory. What remains etched in my mind are the teachers who went beyond being mere disseminators of knowledge; they were the ones who made an effort to know me as an individual.
Sadly, I have long struggled with the art of recalling names, and many faces have become anonymous over time. Time is a relentless thief, stealing away fragments of our memories, and I fear the day when these cherished names will slip through the sieve of recollection.
One such remarkable figure, who continues to shine in my memory, is none other than Cikgu Hasnah, the guiding light of Mathematic teacher. Although our paths crossed briefly during my Form 1 journey, her memory of me endured long after I left her classroom. It speaks volumes about her extraordinary capacity, as the Asrama was teeming with students, nearly a hundred in our midst.
Another luminary was Cikgu Faridah, a nameless teacher in the annals of my memory, except for the indelible impression she left. The specific subject she taught—whether it was History or Geography—matters little when compared to her magnetic personality. She was a teacher who drew the attention of her male students. Her demeanour radiated warmth and friendliness, endearing her to her students and bringing vitality to her lectures.
Cikgu Faridah carved a lasting place in my heart. She understood her students intimately and didn't shy away from playful teasing in the classroom. Her jokes sometimes left me blushing with embarrassment, but beneath her words lay profound wisdom. At a time when I felt adrift, without the accolades of academic excellence or the attention of Encik Hussin, Cikgu Faridah's confident proclamation echoed in my mind:
"I look at Zul's face, and I know he will score 8As in PMR."
Receiving such genuine praise in a full classroom filled me with pride and joy, and these seemingly small words left a lasting mark on my psyche, guiding me through the tumultuous waters of adolescence.
After our tuition classes concluded, I would hurry to the restroom, eager to see my radiant face in the mirror. Some might find this amusing, but it was a moment filled with pride and happiness, a memory I will always cherish.
In the labyrinthine corridors of memory, Cikgu Faridah's mysterious family life remains a puzzle, shrouded in secrecy. Despite being our tuition teacher for a substantial period, we knew little about her family, except that she had one child. It was a well-guarded secret, shielded from prying eyes. Until one day, my dear friend Min unwittingly unravelled the truth.
It happened during our school's open day, when parents came to collect their children's report cards. As Cikgu Faridah drove her car towards the school's exit, Min spotted her, accompanied by a young boy. Suspicion grew within Min, leading her to speculate that the boy was Cikgu Faridah's son. When she shared this revelation with me, my curiosity knew no bounds, and I imagined the prospect of seeing her son.
Seated in Cikgu Faridah's tuition class, my curiosity overwhelmed me, prompting me to search a school magazine for her son's photo. After a while, I succeeded! Min and I exchanged sheepish grins, but our amusement didn't escape Cikgu Faridah's discerning eyes. She had already sensed our clandestine mission when she saw me with the magazine. Acknowledging our grins, she, in a fit of annoyance, interjected:
"Are you looking for my son's photograph? Stop this immediately."
Our class, taken aback by this revelation, fell into stunned silence. None of us had ever considered that Cikgu Faridah's child was attending the same school. Min and I could hardly contain our laughter, and soon the entire class was engulfed in mirth. It was a moment filled with pure delight and excitement.
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