After the conclusion of the standardized trial examination, my determination solidified around the single-minded pursuit of achieving my cherished dreams. I dedicated every fiber of my being to rigorous preparation, leaving no room for the fear of failure.
My path was filled with pressures from various sources, yet I had willingly chosen this challenging journey, hoping that it held the key to a brighter future. My life now revolved exclusively around the upcoming PMR examination, whether I was in the dormitory, the Asrama classroom, or the school itself. All other aspects of life had been overshadowed.
In the past, I used to be very attuned to my surroundings, noticing every detail. However, a profound change had taken place within me, making me impervious to the constant flow of life outside my academic goals. My thoughts, once flexible and sensitive, had solidified into a singular purpose. In hindsight, I would realize the negative effects of this insularity, as I remained oblivious to much of what was happening around me, consumed by my dreams.
A few weeks before the upcoming examination, Asrama organized a Solat Hajat ceremony, where parents gathered to seek Allah intervention for their children. Ustaz Dollah, a familiar figure since my days in Standard 6, conducted the ceremony. Despite his reputation in the Kota Tinggi district, his attempts to evoke deep emotions during the event didn't have the desired effect on me.
The ceremony concluded without any emotional release on my part. Ustaz Dollah's efforts, I felt, followed clichéd patterns. The school's organization of the event seemed routine, lacking the profound impact one might expect.
The school was bustling with activity as parents of SPM and STPM candidates came for their Solat Hajat ceremony. Asrama was represented by Ayahanda Yahya and Encik Zul, who were our designated representatives as Form 3 students. This ceremony marked the culmination of the collective efforts of both the school and Asrama to prepare us for the impending challenge.
Despite the support we received, the final outcome depended solely on our individual efforts. We were acutely aware of how crucial the upcoming results were in the context of our lives at that moment. While others might see it as a minor matter, for me, it represented a continuous source of stress.
The days leading up to the PMR examinations were filled with tension, affecting the Form 3 classrooms where students awaited the momentous reckoning. Some were well-prepared and confident. The surau was crowded as students earnestly performed the Solat Hajat prayer, either after their preparations or before bedtime, with many following Ustaz Dollah's prescribed twelve rakaat for this supplication. Their sincere prayers reached the heavens, seeking Allah favour.
I, too, joined this collective chorus of supplication. Burdened by expectations from various quarters, I turned to Allah as my only refuge in facing the impending challenge.
On the eve of the PMR examinations, inside the dormitory, I dedicated the day to thorough study of my Bahasa Melayu reference book. The well-used pages bore witness to my diligent preparation, a testament to the anxiety building up as the examination approached. I believed this day marked the conclusion of my time at Asrama.
Memories of my journey through Form 1, Form 2, and the entire Form 3 flashed before my mind's eye. Each year had moulded me, shaping my identity into its current form. However, the relentless march of time, unyielding in its pace, forced me to confront how swiftly moments slipped into oblivion.
Asrama, once a sanctuary and haven, had acquired new significance with the impending end of my tenure. It raised a question in my mind – what was the purpose of these fleeting moments, these transient treasures?
Despite these contemplations, I continued my diligent studies, pushing aside doubts that threatened to distract me. Dorm 1 was unusually quiet, leaving me to wonder about the whereabouts of my dormitory companions.
As night fell, a session of mutual forgiveness among the boys unfolded, providing an opportunity for introspection on any conflicts that may have strained our relationships. As I looked inward, examining my interactions, I found comfort in the absence of lingering conflicts, a testament to my determination not to burden anyone during my stay here. My existence carried the weight of an intricate inner world, hidden from external scrutiny. Personal concerns remained private, imperceptible, and unobtrusive – a choice I steadfastly maintained.
With the dormitory lights extinguished, I retreated under the protective embrace of my mosquito net. Iman and Kaido had surrendered to sleep, their dreams intertwined with the challenges of the next day. My gaze wandered around the familiar dormitory, unchanged in its nighttime appearance. The dawn would usher in a new chapter, and with a heart filled with hope and a whispered prayer, I surrendered to the embrace of sleep, a herald of the trials that awaited the morning.
On the first day of the PMR examinations, my heart raced as I saw Encik Hussin in the Asrama courtyard. His presence evoked a mix of emotions. In his face, I saw the embodiment of devotion to his former students – our batch. It was a revelation, as I had never expected such a significant moment would bring him back to us.
Today marked the beginning of the real battle – a test of intellectual prowess – for us, his former students, after being nurtured under his guidance for the past two years. Encik Hussin, with his unwavering enthusiasm, had guided our educational journey. His passion, diligence, and enthusiasm were beyond question. However, I couldn't help but feel disillusioned about his methods. I understood that human limitations often required compromises.
Encik Hussin, undoubtedly an excellent mentor, had a tendency to become deeply involved in our affairs. While this enthusiasm did yield commendable results in the examination hall, it also led to the cultivation of relationships marred by negative undertones. Unfortunately, it seemed that there was no alternative.
For four days, I battled through what felt like a monumental milestone, even though it was on a smaller scale. I felt trepidation as I faced the first paper – Bahasa Melayu. I prayed fervently to avoid making careless mistakes.
Relief washed over me as the battle subsided, but the spectre of a greater challenge loomed – the daunting wait for the results. I was confident in my impending success, but a nagging worry lingered, stemming from concerns about my essay or the correctness of my formatting in Bahasa Melayu.
The seemingly endless wait for the results became a constant source of torment. I had invested deeply in this crucible, and the fear of potential disappointment gnawed at my conscience.
As the examination eve approached, an interesting development caught my attention. The Form 3 menu underwent an improvement, with the dishes surpassing the usual mundane fare. While the specifics escaped me, I vividly remembered the improved quality of the meals. These menus, symbols of our shared pursuit of excellence, inspired us with fresh determination.
This battle was no ordinary one; it held extraordinary significance. To prepare us for the challenge, Asrama provided vitamin supplements on the night before the examination, a clear demonstration of their support. Without hesitation, I consumed the offered pills.
This battle held special importance as it marked the first time I experienced the intensity of a major examination while at Asrama. Our seniors had previously taken the SPM examination, which was held during school holidays when we were absent. This time, the weighty responsibility was on our shoulders.
Each of us faced this pivotal juncture in our own way. Mandatory prep classes didn't infringe on our autonomy; students were free to revise lessons in their preferred locations. Some preferred the dormitories, classrooms, halls, or even the common area. As far as I knew, no one resorted to studying in the restroom. Personally, I chose to seclude myself in the classroom – a space conducive to vibrant discussions with peers, an indispensable part of this formative period.
Upon reflection on my performance during this crucible, gratitude filled me. English, Kemahiran Hidup, and Geography had all gone smoothly, and I remained confident about achieving 'A' grades in these subjects. It seemed like Allah guidance had influenced my responses, a stark contrast to the struggles I had faced with English in the past.
Kemahiran Hidup and Geography presented no insurmountable obstacles, and I was confident in securing 'A' grades in both subjects. Although a few questions had sowed seeds of doubt, collaborative reviews with peers reaffirmed my certainty.
History, on the other hand, had posed a formidable challenge, with the PMR paper etched in my memory as a test of perspiration and uncertainty. A retrospective analysis later revealed that I had emerged victorious with an 'A' grade, despite my numerous errors – a testament to Allah providence.
Mathematics, Pendidikan Islam, and Science, the domains in which I had unwavering confidence, bore fruit as expected. An 'A' grade seemed to be the inevitable outcome in each subject. Upon reviewing the Science paper with my peers, I discovered just two errors out of seventy-five questions – an unexpected triumph.
Emerging from the crucible of examinations, I breathed a sigh of relief. The heavy burden that had shadowed me for what felt like an eternity dissipated, allowing me to reconnect with my surroundings. However, an enigmatic dilemma arose – an undisclosed predicament of unknown magnitude. Initially, I considered it trivial and unworthy of my attention. Yet, my indifference only deepened its complexity and significance.
Fortunately, this enigma remained hidden from my awareness before the PMR examinations, as knowing about it would undoubtedly have cast a shadow over my performance. Now, my mental faculties became entangled in this mystery, its dimensions and consequences looming as unsettling riddles in my mental landscape.
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