A Lesson for Life

By Cikgu Oh


One morning, Sanggat, an eight-year-old pupil of mine knocked on my door; he was here to help me sweep my quarters. He noticed some thick books neatly arranged on my reading table.

Curiously he asked, "Sir, what books are these?"

I told him that those were books that I needed to study for an important exam so that I might go to the university someday. He frowned because in a remote area where we were, even a bicycle was unheard of. I tried to explain "university" to him with the help of pictures that looked like a university campus. At that time, Sarawak did not have a university and the nearest one was across the South China Sea, in Peninsular Malaysia.

He was surprised: "But, sir, you are a teacher. Why study?"

So we sat down and I told him all about this thing called Education and gave him a pep talk about his chances of becoming someone great in the future. He took one of my books - the thickest one - in his hands and upon opening it exclaimed, "Wow, the words are so tine and there are millions of them. How can you possibly finish reading it?"

I explained to him the importance of learning to read well and to make the best out of the lessons that he was learning at school, and that teachers like me, were specially sent to teach special children like him so that someday they could read great books like the one he was holding. He left my room.

When the other pupils learned that Sanggat always volunteered to sweep my room, they wanted to do the same and soon it became an almost daily ritual which ended up with me buying more brooms to maximise participation. And Sanggat would never fail to show them my books, each time adding a little commentary of his own about them in the Iban language.

I did not realise the impact my words had on him until the day I slipped in the river and broke my neck. I was to be paralysed from my shoulders downward for the rest of my life.

I was carried into a speedboat and transported back to civilisation. As I lay motionless and exhausted, I noticed that the whole school had gathered by the riverside to bid me farewell. A gaze at their faces told me that I was going to miss them. Then, as the engine of the speedboat started to roar, there was a little commotion by the river.

I could see Sanggat making his way to the boat. With tear-filled eyes, he approached and in between sobs he asked, "Sir, are you coming back?" "Perhaps not."

Then after a short pause he said, "Sir, if you can't come back, I'll see you in the university, ya?"

My heart was profoundly touched and as the boat moved away, I realised an important lesson of my own: Teachers must never fail to take time explaining positive lessons to the young ones. Simple and sincere gestures sometimes can have far reaching effects on them and life may never be the same again. It is the small simple pleasures we gather from life that ultimately bear great fruits of profound magnitude. We should watch out for every opportunity we have to assist the young ones towards self-accomplishments.

From Starmag