I stood in bewildering contemplation of the wellspring from which I summoned the courage to compete with my brilliant companions. As I mentioned earlier, I lacked any exceptional privileges that would set me apart from my peers. However, over the course of the year, a transformation began to take shape within me—a budding sense of pride quietly sprouted. Though I remained a mystery to others, I couldn't help but wonder about the significance of this newfound attitude. Did it carry any significance, or was it merely a fleeting aspect of my life? Why then include it in this narrative?
In Asrama, I resided in Class 3L1. The numerical "3" represented Form 3, "L" indicated the male gemder, and "1" designated it as the top-ranked class. In total, our class consisted of sixteen students, each an exceptional academic performer. They dedicated themselves relentlessly to preparing for the upcoming PMR examinations, studying even during brief moments of respite, be it through exercises or concise study notes. It was a group of formidable competitors, and I was determined to excel through diligence and determination.
I should note that this competitive spirit was devoid of animosity or resentment. It was a healthy rivalry, although not entirely free from occasional envy or bitterness. I cannot claim to understand the inner thoughts of my fellow students, and my observations are speculative. Nevertheless, our collective focus was firmly fixed on the impending PMR results, overshadowing any social interactions among them. As for me, I found their interactions and relationships with each other somewhat mysterious, and I had little interest in deciphering the intricacies of their interactions.
Allow me to reminisce about the memories of Class 3L1. These memories are somewhat hazy, and I invite my former classmates, should they come across this account, to correct any errors—whether accidental or intentional.
Our classroom was located on the upper floor, conveniently close to my beloved Dorm 1. Whether it was due to its proximity to my favourite residence or a genuine sense of belonging, I cannot say for certain. Strangely, I gravitated towards the back desk in the middle row, even though my classmates were generally well-behaved, in stark contrast to my unruly disposition. In my opinion, it was the calmest corner in all of Asrama, disturbed only by my own spirited nature.
During breaks from our academic endeavours, it was common to find us engrossed in our reference books. Maro, in particular, was a model of studiousness, while my own inclinations often led me into daydreams. On particularly gloomy days, I would wander over to my nearby dormitory, recline on my cot, and lose myself in reverie.
Our prelude to prep or tuition sessions always began with a collective Quranic reading—a tradition passed down through the generations of Asrama. This nightly ritual filled our classrooms with the melodious recitation of Quranic verses.
In Class 3L1, we gathered around a single open Quran, taking turns to orally recite its verses. While not all of us were proficient in Quranic recitation, we participated in this communal practice with unwavering dedication.
After our recitation, it was time to immerse ourselves in the rigors of tuition classes. Among these, I found myself most drawn to the Science class, although I'm unsure why my interest shifted from Mathematics, which had been my primary passion before. At this point, my academic journey began to revolve around Physics, Chemistry, and Biology. My love for the sciences was undeniable, to the point that I can't even recall who my Form 3 Mathematics teacher was, or if there were any tuition sessions for it. On the contrary, I have vivid memories of Science, History, English, and Geography teachers, especially when they were frequently absent.
As time passed, the intensity of our academic competition increased, particularly during monthly and semester exams. The anticipation of our results was palpable as we vied for supremacy within Asrama. After each assessment, we engaged in enthusiastic score comparisons, each student striving to ascertain their rank.
Initially, I felt a degree of unease about this competitive atmosphere, but I eventually came to terms with it. The thrill of the competition gave the whole environment an exhilarating quality. Although we were a diverse group with our unique quirks, we all shared the same goal.
For my part, the competitive atmosphere in Asrama did not breed disdain, and I bore no ill will towards my classmates, even in the face of Maro's consistent success. I recognized his exceptional abilities and achievements without a hint of jealousy.
In summary, my time in Class 3L1 was meaningful, yet I felt that the true completeness I sought could be found elsewhere, especially within the embrace of Dorm 1. This classroom, while essential for academic pursuits, couldn't impart the deeper life lessons I was beginning to seek.
Now, let's shift our focus to Class 3KS, my academic home within the school itself. About half of our classmates came from Asrama, and we had been together since Form 1. Unfortunately, our class had no female students, making us the rowdiest and most vocal students in the school.
Many of the Malay students in our class were appointed as prefects, an honour I politely declined when offered. Unlike some of my friends who felt pressured to accept the position, I provided a sincere rationale for my refusal, and my decision was respected.
However, with time, I would come to regret my choice as I witnessed most of my friends rise to the esteemed position of prefects, including Bel and Min. The competition within this class was fierce, especially when competing with the school's top Chinese male students. While we weren't all exceptional, the majority were formidable competitors, which motivated me to excel in every test and exam.
In the classroom, I sat close to Bel, while opportunities for interaction with Min, despite being in the same class, were limited. My time was mainly spent with Bel, a friendship I cherished.
During this period, I became acutely aware of my deteriorating eyesight. Words on the blackboard that were once clear became blurred, making note-taking a challenging task. Eventually, I was provided with corrective lenses. I initially felt self-conscious about wearing glasses, but as more of my peers embraced them, I accepted my own spectacled appearance. The prevalence of myopia among us remained a mystery.
Despite the classroom's resemblance to those in Forms 1 and 2, there was a noticeable change in the atmosphere. I began to appreciate the educational environment more, finding value in every subject except Pendidikan Seni (Art). The teachers in this classroom, although not without quirks, had a certain air of distinction, even though one of them was considered the school's least favourite teacher.
Cikgu Bakar, our Science teacher, was a master of his craft. His teaching finesse was unmatched, and he incorporated elements of Physics, Chemistry, and Biology into his lessons. His teaching style, distinct from the prescribed textbooks, elevated him to a pedagogical virtuoso. Even our Chinese peers, who were typically reserved in their praise, admired his teaching, despite his occasional sternness.
On the other hand, Cikgu Syakir, our Bahasa Melayu teacher, also served as the discipline master for afternoon sessions. This dual role earned him the reputation of being the least liked teacher among students. However, there was a dramatic transformation in the classroom. He adopted an air of professionalism, mixed with a cheerful humour that made his teaching enjoyable. His stern and gruff demeanour outside the classroom gave way to an attitude marked by respect and camaraderie within its confines.
But it was Cikgu Kartina, our Mathematics teacher, who left an indelible mark on my memory. A paragon of kindness, her commitment to her students transcended the usual teacher-student relationship. While I may not have held a prominent place in her memory, her impact on my classmates was undeniable. Each student who admired her remains, in my view, etched into her memory. I held no grudge for not being among the most memorable in her eyes; my existence did not bear any extraordinary marks worthy of such distinction. Such is the nature of life, unwavering in its relentless progression.
As the days went by, the intensity of academic competition grew, especially in Class 3KS. We pushed ourselves to achieve greater heights, nurturing loftier aspirations. I found myself unwittingly caught in this web of rivalry, determined to lead. Why, you might ask? To this, I cannot offer a straightforward answer. Is this the inevitable path of life? Must we relentlessly pursue academic excellence as our ultimate goal? These are the lasting impressions of our environment, and we are summoned to this pursuit, a pursuit of undeniable significance.
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