A Week at the Saint's
“Welp, first time’s the charm”, I muttered to myself as I hiked hurriedly up the Stairs of Death to get to campus gates, having called my partner earlier to hail a ride together. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate first times. First times for me are just more parts stressful than meaningful. I know, that can sound a tad self-defeating, but this SBE (School-based Experience, think of it as a 1-week practicum), I’m faced with a lot more firsts than I ever had and little did I know how deep of an impression SK St. Francis Convent (SFC) would make on my teaching experience.
I kept to myself for the most part of the ride. In my head, wheels were turning, simulating a thousand different possible situation that could happen, each one more outlandish from the last. SFC would mark the first time I am stationed to train in an urban school, not to mention an all-girl missionary school as it turns out. It certainly couldn’t have been more different from the school I attended when I was a primary student. I’ve heard a lot of things about the school, each source tells a more grandiose tale from the other. When I stepped foot on the lobby however, I felt a strange sense of serenity from seeing the students. Students often does that to teachers, but not seeing rowdy schoolboys for 5 days is a blessing like no other. “Spoken like a true once-schoolboy, that was”, I thought to myself, chuckling lightly.
When we arrived at the staff room, the warm welcome from one teacher in particular made my entire day. The motherly figure reminded me of my own mother back home. She showed us around the room and then paraded us down to the cafeteria, as she would be doing for the next four day without fail. I can’t tell you how happy she made the little introvert in me who would never be able to start a conversation with anyone above my age. Alas, being the introvert that I am, I never got to ask her name.
Honest to god, the school demystified every misconception I had about mission schools in modern day Malaysia. Even when the whole school is decorated with Christian paraphernalia, morning prayers still includes Islamic recitations, honouring the nation’s official religion. Not just that, Saint Francis, the namesake of the school, is revered in the way that emphasizes his humanity and good deeds as opposed to just being a religious figure. This humanistic and wholesome approach to teaching had thrown me off the somewhat condescending views I had previously.
So far, I had only been singing praises about this school don’t you think? And that says a lot because I haven’t talked about the students yet. By St. Francis, do not get me started on these kids. They’re absolute angels! As another “first” in my stint there, I was required to carry out some English tests with the students and never before had I invigilate such a clever and manageable bunch of students. Oh, did I mention that almost all of them spoke fluent English? What a fever dream that was for an ESL teacher like me.
To be frank, there’s a lot more that inspired me about the school. Alas, it would be boring to talk about it myself, so I wrote a short story that came to me as I was reading about the school’s history; a story of missionaries and faeries. If you want to read it, just click right here and don’t hesitate to tell me what you think about it in the comment section. Thanks for reading.