In the previous chapter, I shared my wrongdoings, a regrettable episode that might have disappointed the respected authorities at the Asrama if they had read it. I openly admitted that my actions were regrettable, and I firmly believe they should not be seen as an example to follow.
It was still crucial to remain diligent and strive for academic excellence. One must resist the temptation of distractions and stay committed to learning.
However, the circumstances of that time led me into a different path. It seemed like I had momentarily lost my way and put my focus on things other than academics. I, who was once very dedicated, now felt adrift and confused due to my newfound interests.
Every situation has its pros and cons. My changing state of mind, although different from before, had its advantages. I was no longer self-centred and started becoming more humble.
I was grateful that my academic performance hadn't suffered severely. Overall, it was still commendable, allowing me to compete healthily with my classmates, which made me proud. Despite my reduced concentration, I managed to maintain my academic achievements.
This was particularly evident in the monthly exams we had throughout the year. I don't intend to brag, but I want to share what happened. I knew that studying didn't come naturally to me, but I had found alternative strategies to excel. All I needed was a solid understanding of the key concepts taught by our teachers.
The term 'concept' became popular during that year, and I played a big role in emphasizing its importance. Whenever friends asked for my academic advice, I always stressed the need to understand the underlying concepts to overcome any difficulties.
My friends, always the playful ones, made fun of me for this habit. However, my determination to grasp our teachers' teachings never wavered. I attended their classes attentively, trying to understand the depth of their explanations. Understanding these concepts early on saved me time during study sessions.
Despite my commendable academic achievements, I no longer obsessed over them. I had transformed into a different version of myself, distinct from the previous year. My attention was now drawn to other areas, and I was no longer enticed by monthly exams, test results, or my rank among the Asrama student.
I didn't derive my sense of identity from these achievements anymore, and they didn't inspire the same passion in me. Instead, I had a longing to explore broader horizons and enjoy the pleasures of teenage life. In my eyes, life extended beyond the narrow confines of academic success.
I hoped that continuing my journey in the Asrama would help me overcome my previous obsession with academics. I thought that my life in the previous year had been too isolated.
I don't discredit the virtues of such a life; it has its merits. It minimizes the challenges one has to face. Your concerns are mainly about personal matters, free from other people's problems. It gives you a sense of purpose and focus, without unnecessary distractions.
However, I began to see myself as a mechanical automaton, lacking vitality. I believed that humanity was a divine creation, with the soul at its core. The soul creates human relationships with the like minded souls. I thought that excessive self-focus could stifle the soul's purpose.
In such a state, you become rigid, unimportant, and disconnected from the human tapestry. While this life may minimize life's risks, I realized that perfection wasn't achieved in this paradigm.
If you genuinely care about your surroundings, you must accept the increased risks that come with it. These risks arise from the diverse personalities of fellow humans. Being vigilant becomes crucial as you strive to avoid conflicts. The goal becomes a deep dive into the environment, an attempt to understand and gain wisdom from each unique individual.
I admit that there were times when I made mistakes, and my actions made others uncomfortable. I am imperfect, with my own flaws that occasionally repel others.
But avoidance was no longer an option. I pretended to blend into this environment, facing the ongoing challenges and pressures. Blaming external factors for the stress it caused would be futile. That's the nature of life – an unfolding tapestry of unforeseeable changes – and we must confront them with equanimity.
My proficiency in Mathematics earned me the opportunity to represent our school in the National Mathematics Olympiad competition, thanks to my excellent Mathematics capability record. At first, I was bewildered by the prospect, as it was my first experience with such a prestigious event – a great honour.
To my delight, I discovered that I was the only Malay participant, symbolizing minor diversity within our delegation. Until then, previous representatives had always come from non-Malay backgrounds, which was not an unusual departure from the norm. Our mentor, a non-Malay Mathematics teacher from my class, had unwavering faith in my abilities, offering constant guidance and support. I hold her in high regard to this day.
The competition took place in a prestigious Chinese independent secondary school in Johor Bahru, known for being the largest such school constructed outside China, with colossal buildings spanning multiple stories.
The event allowed me to meet fellow participants from various schools, bringing back memories of the quiz competition from the previous year. Amidst the bustling crowd, my competitive spirit ignited.
Memories of past quiz victories resurfaced, and the upcoming competition, though different from previous ones, promised intellectual engagement. However, it felt like an examination with results that wouldn't be known immediately.
To my disappointment, the examination featured exceptionally complex questions, even though they were rooted in Mathematics. Their enigmatic nature was undeniable. There were only a few questions, just four, without any unnecessary complexity. Unfortunately, I lacked confidence in my ability to navigate their intricacies.
Half of the questions ventured into unfamiliar mathematical territories beyond my knowledge. As far as I could tell, they were better suited for Form 6 or Matriculation curricula. The remaining two delved into the realms of creative and critical thinking, posing formidable challenges in their own right.
One particular question remains vivid in my memory:
"At what point between four and five o'clock do the hour and minute hands of the clock align perfectly?"
This puzzle, unlike anything I'd encountered in my mathematical journey, perplexed me. I embarked on solving it, using the logical principles I had learned. How would you fare, I wonder? Eventually, I found the solution, but not without investing a considerable amount of time.
In Mathematics and Additional Mathematics, my performance was commendable. Throughout the year, I consistently achieved an A1 grade in both subjects, for which I was deeply grateful. I realized that my aptitude in these disciplines was a rare gift, bestowed upon me by a benevolent Providence. I acknowledged the scarcity of individuals blessed with this capacity and was profoundly thankful.
Additional Mathematics, a subject often criticized by students, didn't scare me. Even before entering Form 4, I had concerns about this subject. Ironically, these reservations only fuelled my enthusiasm, as I aimed to embrace the challenges it presented. I relished the opportunity to grapple with its complexities. When you're passionate, challenges become milestones on the path to mastery.
The previous year had seen my fervent passion for the sciences, particularly Physics. However, this year, my enthusiasm had waned due to the demanding nature of Physics and Biology. Physics, I believed, was primarily responsible for my dissatisfaction, exacerbated by uninspiring teachers both in school and the Asrama. If I were to excel in this subject, it was up to me alone.
That's where I stumbled. My once unwavering motivation had dwindled, replaced by unfortunate apathy. Summoning the necessary effort became a daunting task, and I struggled with my newfound laziness. Biology presented similar challenges; without dedicated study, I couldn't provide accurate answers. So, I faced an impending struggle in these subjects. However, rest assured, I did not fall into failure or receive a D grade. My predicament was merely about securing an A1 or A2.
Chemistry, on the other hand, remained a reliable subject, thanks to dedicated teachers both in the classroom and during tuition. I performed well in this subject overall. Across the scientific spectrum, I maintained my balance, yet my heart was drawn back to Mathematics.
In other areas of study, I found myself in the middle, not at the top but certainly not at the bottom. History, however, presented an increasingly challenging scenario, demanding that I commit copious facts to memory – a task at odds with my lazy reading habits.
Bahasa Melayu and English introduced a new instructional format during our studies, incorporating literary elements. For reasons still unclear to me, the literary component captivated me, granting me a newfound appreciation for the world of literature, especially the art of fiction.
Therefore, what you're currently reading is an expression of my love for literature. Without this exposure, I might never have embarked on the path of writing. I passionately advocate for the inclusion of literary elements in language education. Does the name "Pusaran" trigger any memories for you?
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