My narrative now shifts its focus to the events of my school journey in this particular year. This year brought forth a multitude of academic commitments, which was inevitable as it marked the time when my peers and I were preparing for the significant PMR examination—a pivotal milestone in our academic journey that filled us with a sense of unease.
Academic pressure, as it often does, became a constant presence in our educational path. Our feelings about this demanding situation were likely similar to your own, dear reader—unwanted but inescapable aspects of our lives.
Fortunately, our venerable Asrama was well-equipped to provide us with various academic programs. Since our arrival as wide-eyed Form 1 students, Asrama had played a crucial role in nurturing our academic abilities. It had guided us through a range of enriching workshops and inspirational speeches.
I must admit that, initially, the term "bengkel" or "workshop" puzzled me. My mind would conjure images of automotive repair shops. However, over time, these workshops became an integral part of Asrama life.
For me, these mandatory workshops didn't spark much enthusiasm, mainly because they took place on weekends—a time we usually reserved for relaxation and leisure. Instead of enjoying a break, we found ourselves in the hall, attending these mandatory instructional sessions.
As Friday night descended, the announcement echoed throughout the dormitories, calling all Form 3 students to gather in the hall. Here began a rather laborious task of setting up tables and chairs, a daunting job that involved transporting these items from our classrooms to the designated hall.
My own classroom happened to be in an elevated location, making the process of bringing tables and chairs down quite challenging. After much effort, we finally arranged them in long rows across the hall.
I sometimes felt a bit self-conscious about occupying the front rows, yet I usually ended up in the third row from the front, a spot frequented by many of my peers. During those moments of tedium, I often engaged in lively discussions and friendly banter with my fellow students.
Typically, the workshops took place on Saturday mornings, extending well into the afternoon and then continuing with an evening session that spilled over into Sunday afternoon. The idea of dedicating an entire weekend to academic pursuits was, to be honest, a daunting prospect.
In Form 3, these workshops became quite frequent, covering a range of subjects. Even less celebrated subjects like Bahasa Melayu, Kemahiran Hidup, and Pendidikan Islam were not exempt from these rigorous programs. While Mathematics and Science had their fair share of workshops, they were not spared from this demanding schedule.
During one such workshop, a small yet painful incident occurred. As we were carrying tables and chairs back to our classroom, I and a fellow student crossed paths on the stairs—one going up and the other going down. To make way for my companion, I leaned against the wall, inadvertently taking the weight of the table. It was then that a sharp edge pierced my head, causing sudden pain and disorientation. My head throbbed intensely, and blood started to flow from the wound as I struggled to cope with the sudden pain.
I quickly realized that the corner of the fire alarm switchbox, concealed by the table I was carrying, had caused the injury. My initial irritation toward my companion for this mishap soon turned into relief when I realized that the injury was not as serious as I had feared.
The rest of that day was spent recovering in Dorm 1, where I had an epiphany: I had hardly used the television for entertainment throughout the year. Back at home, the television was at my disposal, but the demands of Asrama life and my diminishing interest had made it a forgotten commodity. Instead, I sought comfort in the dormitory, listening to music on my Walkman and reading humorous magazines.
Weekends became a haven of rest, where I indulged in the luxury of sleeping in within the peaceful confines of the dormitory. The soothing sounds of insects from the nearby Hutan Bandar, the gentle touch of sunlight, and the refreshing breeze from the oscillating fan created a symphony that lulled me into serenity.
In the realm of academics, the school introduced a supplementary program in preparation for the upcoming PMR examination called "Tuisyen Kampung," exclusively designed for Malay students. This program offered teachering sessions in Mathematics, Science, and English, conducted three times a week, with each session lasting two hours. As residents of Asrama, we had become accustomed to such academic endeavours and accepted their necessity without reservation.
Our tight schedules made it impractical to travel between Asrama and school multiple times a day. Thus, immediately after these tuition sessions, we headed straight to school, a decision influenced by practicality.
It was somewhat puzzling that, despite our location in the urban hub of Johor Bahru, the program was called "Tuisyen Kampung," a detail that left me perplexed. Nonetheless, we were accustomed to the demands of such programs and needed no further persuasion.
These weekly teachering sessions spanned three days, with each day dedicated to a specific subject. Starting promptly at 10 in the morning, they concluded with a break at noon. Consequently, there was little time to return to Asrama before our next journey to school. We would stay within the school premises, waiting for our lunch to arrive.
Lunchtime marked the arrival of a group of Form 2 students, carrying polystyrene containers filled with food. The sheer quantity of these containers, needed to satisfy the hunger of our group, often piqued the curiosity of onlookers who were not part of Asrama. Our gatherings at the school canteen, observed with interest by others, left me somewhat self-conscious. It was an inexplicable feeling, although it held a certain degree of amusement, which I now find amusing in retrospect.
So, my enthusiasm for the Tuisyen Kampung program remained lukewarm at best. The schedule didn't quite align with the rhythms of Asrama life, and it often led to a sense of hurry and frustration. However, a fortunate change in our class schedule allowed Asrama students to attend without the rush.
This change seemed to be driven by several factors. Firstly, non-Asrama students preferred a later start time for classes, reducing the need for multiple trips between school and Asrama, especially for those who lived farther away from the school. Without this change, I believe the stress of punctuality would have made my non-attendance a likely outcome.
This was the academic routine that defined that year for me. At the time, I didn't view it as a matter of great significance. I simply persevered, aiming to face and overcome each challenge that came my way. By not dwelling excessively on these demands, I managed to reduce much of the stress associated with that year.
This stoic attitude, shared by many of my fellow students on the academic journey, helped alleviate my sense of isolation. Our collective efforts and shared burdens gave us the strength to bear the weight with equanimity. My optimism remained unwavering, and I believed that my efforts, though demanding, would eventually yield results.
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