Whenever I think back, I always find it hilariously ironic that I'm making a living teaching Mathematics.
I was booted out of River Valley High after Sec 2 because I failed almost all my subjects. My average score was about 44/100 and I got about 40 for Maths. I was the kid who scribbled MathsMakesMeMad and random DDR arrows that'd I shuffled my feet to during lessons, in an attempt to deface my textbook. My parents were beyond frustrated and eventually hired a tutor for me before I took my "entrance exams" for Sembawang Secondary.
It was as if fate had said, "Okay you've had the crappiest Maths teacher that you will ever have in your entire life, now let us give you the world's awesomest Maths teachers that will inspire you forever."
My tuition teacher was great. In fact, she got me up to speed with my lower secondary work in a month. In school there was Mrs Goh, with 15 years of experience under her stern belt and a kindly but no-nonsense attitude, who taught most magnificently. She commanded presence in every class she taught, with her short, tinted hair increasing her "happening" factor, despite being a mother of two. She was passionate about Mathematics and her students, had high expectations of us and took every effort to explain everything. She liked to pick people who weren't paying attention. She could be understanding about the occasional crappy work but also gave those who weren't up-to-standard a rather spectacular and public dressing down.
Then when I graduated and went to NYJC, there was Mr Tan. Mr Tan, who screamed at a student who took his food to the neighbouring air-conditioned container classroom to consume it. The poor kid got so scared out of his wits that his stewed egg dropped off his plate. When he returned to class after that, told us what happened and laughed heartily about it, we all stared at him like he was some psycho-sadist-monster! He was known for his many quirks, which included asking me about my then-girlfriend during lesson time and teasing my other classmates. But above all, he was a brilliant teacher. He made everything crystal clear. I can remember vividly the way he pointed at the workings on the board and his awesome energy. He was also somewhat of a genius to us - he knew all the shortcuts, he could see what was wrong within seconds, he knew all the answers and questions to our work without the need to look at anything for reference.
Now when I teach, it's almost as if the words that roll out of my mouth are a combination of these people who made such a huge difference in my life. I am nurturing, cocky and awesome, all at the same time. This, of course, makes me feel extra passionate and slightly schizo when I'm teaching.
The last thing I would've thought of while staring at them scrawling Mathematics formulas on the board, scolding us harshly and then making us laugh, was that I would one day make use of their knowledge, attitude and teaching skills, to make a living and put myself through University. I get a sense of satisfaction at the realisation that most of the things I own I paid for with my skill and work.
I wouldn't be here without them. For that I am grateful. I never thought I would be doing this and enjoying it. That today I have students calling me to ask me for clarification about "completing the square" on the day of the 'O' Level examinations!
