1966 - the virgins' year. getting to vi and form 1 north.

Officially, school opened on 10th January 1966. It was a Monday. But there was no Assembly at the School Hall that Monday. This was deferred to the following Monday, so as to give sufficient time for new students in Forms 1, 4 and Lower 6 to settle in, and more importantly, to learn the School Song and other protocols, especially the voluminous ‘School Rules’.

Some of us approached the gates of Victoria Institution (VI) with some trepidation and some anger too, that morning. We had been initiated (and how!!) into a new disciplinary system even before secondary school had started and we were officially ‘Victorians’. (Refer blog of 8th June 2009 - an auspicious beginning). I was still seething in well-disguised anger, and thoughts of law suits raced through my mind every now and then. The fact that my grandfather worked at the Hill Court and my maternal grandfather was a lawyer must have had something do with that arrogant, juvenile attitude!

By comparison, life in Pasar Road English School 1 (PRES 1) had been a holiday camp filled with fun and parties; a wonderful dream. I lived in the Govt Quarters in Jalan Pelandok in a single-storey semi-detached house with ample green and angsana, frangipani and jambu trees in front, side and at the rear of the house. My immediate neighbour was a Malay family with 3 girls and 2 boys, one of whom, Din, was of the same age as I. Morning school sessions would commence at 7.30 and Din and I would leave our homes at 7.15 and walk the short 50 metres to school. Our primary school system was such that we would switch with PRES 2 in July, from completely morning to completely afternoon sessions. The morning session would stretch from 7.30 to 12.30 and the afternoon from 1.00 p.m. to 6 p.m.

VI, with its single morning session system, was a whole new ball game and getting there, a strain on my nerves.

My elder brother and I would wake up at 5.30 a.m., brush teeth and attend to toilet calls and functions, have a quick bath in freezing cold water #1, get dressed, swallow a couple of slices of bread with butter and jam washed down with coffee (not tea, Ovaltine, Horlicks, or Milo) prepared by Mum, exit the front door by 6 a.m. and quick-march the quarter mile to the School Bus stop near Star Theatre opposite the Pudu Market in Pasar Road. That last time I drove by, that spot was occupied by a RHB Bank branch.

The rickety and smoky School Bus, operated by the Toong Foong Bus Company, would arrive at sharp 6.15. The same silent Indian driver and bespectacled Chinese conductor/ticket collector served us from 1966-1970. The Chinaman wore a pyjama kind of shirt and draw-string long pants, always, and was for the most part sullen and rude. But he warmed up to the regulars in later years. The driver, however, remained the Henry Fonda strong silent type till the last! Neither spoke English, so we communicated in broken Malay. We never knew their names, but we named the Chinaman, Psycho, and later affectionately, as Gila (mad)! Rare was the occasion when either one of them smiled, or God forbid, laughed. It must have been a terribly hard and stressful vocation. And we boys were not exactly the easiest lot to handle, especially on the journey home when we could be pretty boisterous.

You either bough the Monthly Pass or paid cash daily (15 cents) for the tickets. From the 1st pick-up point in Pasar Road, the bus would collect VI students on its way through Cochrane Road, double back through Shelley Road past Convent Peel Road (Girls’) School and turn left into the junction where Kedai Arak Tsin Tsin (Tsin Tsin Liquor Shop) and the Cheras PWD grounds stand. Tsin Tsin was owned by the family of my PRES 1 classmate, Tan Seng Tee, who also made it to VI. The family lived on the 2nd floor of the timber constructed ‘coffee shop’. Seng Tee, who was among the top students as well as a scout and junior librarian, left for Down Under in 1971 after the F5 MCE exams. I managed to contact him after a hiatus of some 40 years; he’s now a finance and biz consultant and was a biggie accountant/FC type at the Stock Exchange in Sydney.

From Cheras the bus would make a beeline in the direction of Pudu, passing on its right the Pudu Post Office and on its left the Pudu Fire Station, Railway Station Eurasian Recreation Club and turn left into Shaw Road at Pudu Prison (opposite Berjaya Times Square which was then the palatial home and grounds of, Loke Yew?). The elevated highway and flyover just before Klinik Leela Ratos after Tsin Tsin were still some years off in the future.

About 50m after the left turn at Pudu Prison, the bus would hang a right at the roundabout, exit left, speed 50 m and turn left into Jalan Stadium Negara and drop off the VI students just outside the school gates at the top of the hill at the back of Stadium Negara. If you missed the School Bus, you were in trouble. The commercial buses which stopped, dropped and picked up passengers all along stops that route would not get you to VI on time. That meant an inevitable confrontation with the Prefect on duty just inside the school gates to apprehend latecomers, and, nightmarish DC (Detention Class).

Which meant missing the noon School Bus and possibly a 3 mile walk in the burning sun after crossing the Pudu Railway Tracks, to home in Jalan Pelandok. Worse still, DC in VI was rarely just ‘write 1000 lines why I must not be late for school’. It possibility meant polishing all the door hinges at the School Hall, sweeping the leaves, branches and debris and clearing the drains at the main car park or tidying up the School Pavilion and store-rooms there. However, the crème de la crème punishment of it all was the dreaded cleaning out the squatting stalls and urinals at the boys’ toilet, affectionately referred to as 206 from the municipality number plate at its stinky entrance!

Most of us would be in our classrooms by 7. After placing your schoolbag on the chair (you could not leave it on the floor or desk – against school rule no. 2,000,065) you would have to attend to one of the morning duties assigned to you by your Class Monitor. These duties could be any of sweeping clean the classroom, wiping clean the blackboards in front and back of the room with a damp cloth, dusting the duster free of chalk dust on the cement top of drains outside the classroom (and hiding the feather duster) and ensuring new chalk was laid out on the wooden running board for the teachers, polishing the door hinges either at the classroom or the School Hall, wiping clean the classroom doors and glass panels or arranging the desks and chairs in straight rows. The arty students would be assigned to write and colour up the ‘saying of the week’ or some famous quotation.

All this had to be done every day (Mon-Fri) before the Prefects came at 7.15 onwards to award marks to determine who won the ‘Cleanest Classroom of the Week’ competition. The winner would be announced during School Assembly every Monday, whence the respective Class Monitor would proudly walk up to the stage to receive the plaque from the HM, in front of the whole school. Some took this competition so seriously, so much so that a precedent was set in 1968 or 1969, when an enterprising Class Monitor got all his classmates to chip in to buy paint and paraphernalia and had their classroom completely re-painted by themselves! All those from the ‘Dirtiest Classroom of the Week’ would end up in DC.

As soon as you finished your chores, you either headed for a quick snack at the Tuck Shop (nasi lemak, fried mee hoon, mee rebus, laksa, buns, toast, tea, coffee, iced orange squash, bottled pop drinks) or trudged towards the spot assigned in the Quadrangle to line up with your classmates for the 7.30 bell to ring. The official School Bell Ringer, a student, would be appointed every year from one of the classes nearest to the School Office on the 1st Floor, for this purpose. This same guy was responsible for sounding the bell to mercifully end the 45 minutes subject periods! You could not return to your classroom, loiter around the corridors, Tuck Shop, or anywhere else once the Prefects marched out in numbers and asked you to go ‘line up’.

Once you lined up, you could not horse around or chat with your classmates. If spotted by a Prefect, you could be let off with a stern warning or be put down for DC. If spotted by one of the ‘strict’ teachers, or worse still, the HM who would often be patrolling the upper corridors before the bell sounded, it usually meant six of the best!.

Of course, new students like us had no classroom or spot at the Quadrangle to line up. So, we were directed to the School Hall and sat on the floor. Our bags were filled with new text books, exercise books, pencil boxes and the like, We had been given the book lists during the December holidays and had bought all the necessary stuff at the VI Book Shop in that room at the back of the School Hall near the dungeons where ghosts of prisoners tortured to death by the Japanese in 1944-45 are said to still roam at night. We also shopped in specialist stores like Anthonian Book Store in Brickfields or the mamak ones near Naina Mohammad opposite Bangkok Bank near the Central Market. In my case, there were several hand-me-downs from my brother.

Surprisingly for us, the first day of VI was chaotic. The list of F1 students and assigned classes were not up on the school notice board. So, all these new faces, teachers, were running up and down the staircase leading to the School Office, trying to sort out the unexpected hooha with the Chief Clerk, the evergreen Mr. Richard Pavee and his assistant, Ms. Anna Yap (who later became Mrs. Anna Pavee). Meanwhile, we were moved from the School Hall to the School Refectory (opposite the Tuck Shop) as the HM did not like the cacophony there. The Refectory was part mess hall, part study room and used in the afternoons for inter-class debates and other society meetings. The following year, it was converted into the Junior Library. Others took refuge in the shade of the Basketball Court next to the School Hall, shepherded over by some Prefects.

Eventually the list emerged. We were divided into 4 groups with the classes named after the 4 compass directions. I, together with Cheah and Fong from PRES 1 ended up in Form 1 North with pals like Ng Chee Peng, TA Mohan, Kwan Poh Woh, Kow Yoke Wah, cousins Mac Kean Boon and Mac Yin Tee, and others. Balraj and Indran were placed in 1 South and Liow Soo Choong (No.1 sprinter/athlete, soccer goalkeeper and table-tennis player), a close pal from PRES 1, in 1 East. After F 5 in 1970, Liow, due to family circumstances, started work at the newly opened casino at Genting as Croupier who rose up the ranks to Supervisor, Casino Executive, Casino Shift Manager, Slot Shift Manager and Admin & Training Manager. When he retired from Genting last year, he had been the Assistant Vice-President of Surveillance for the previous 6 years. He was recalled from retirement by his friend and ex-superior officer to help him out in Resorts World Sentosa in S'pore. The majority of the 45 students in F1 North were from PRES 1 and 2. A few others like Rama (now Retd. Major) and Sallehuddin came from schools like Batu Road, Maxwell and Brickfields.

Our class teacher was Mrs. Chong Hong Chong who led us to our classroom on the ground floor just opposite the HM’s, Teachers’ and Staff staircase next to the School Hall. We were thus guaranteed that the HM and every teacher would pass by our class at least twice a day. We were cowed even before we had settled in! Mrs. Chong was still single then, but later that year or the following year, she married another teacher from PRES 2.

Mrs. Chong immediately began to mark attendance. When she came across my mile long name, she casually dubbed me ‘Longfellow’ which caused me to blush and cringe as the others burst out in guffaws. I silently cursed my father!

But, Mrs. Chong drummed and laid into our thick heads the foundations of English grammar, vocabulary, comprehension and essay writing and for that, no amount of thanks or praise could be too much!

But, I nevertheless exulted. My brother had warned me about a particular teacher to be avoided at all costs. I said a silent prayer of thanks to the Lord.

My General Science teacher was NOT Valentine Manuel!!

- to be continued

#1 I had an over-enthusisatic disciplinarian-type uncle who insisted on us taking a cold bath every morning before heading for school. I use the word 'bath' loosely, since we did not have a long-bath or shower in the bathrooom. We had, as was common then, a huge glazed clay Chinese earth-brown colour pot with dragon motif on the outside and all, from which we drew the freezing tap water with a plastic scoop. The trick was to douse yourself with one scoop of water, soap like lightning, fling another two scoops of water, grab the towel and shiver all the way to the room and don your uniform before you contracted some fatal lung disease or collapsed from hypothermia! Mercifully, my father, who was the senior brother, over-ruled my uncle, but not until the next year!