Everytime I visit Cassie's journal, I can't help but look at what all her fans are posting and saying and commenting. It is so very entertaining. And in case you didn't know, Cassie's going to publish her original fiction! I really, really am excited! She might still use Cassandra Claire as her pen name, but she says maybe not. Oh my goodness... I can't wait. And I don't even know what her story is supposed to be about!
The thing about Cassie is that... she knows a lot of things. She knows stuff. She reads practically everything, watches every movie or show worth watching... And she always manages to make any topic interesting. I read the characteristics of Draco and Harry list again... it's so sad... and funny too.
The reason I'm in front of the computer is because I'm supposed to be doing PW... But I really have no idea what to write... and everything else online is so distracting.
Wish I could be like Cassie. Sit at home all day and write. That's what she's doing now, apparently. And she likes it.
I want to write!!! I want to write! I need to write. I have to finish certain things... ARGH.
Yesterday's Teacher's Day was pretty interesting. Had ACES workout. Which is more or less a disaster... For the fact that practically everyone was backing away from the flagpoles, and people were running off to disappear somewhere. It really is very sad. I wanted to support those councillors but it still feels stupid to be doing the workout in front... But luckily, the girls in my class (the ones who actually turned up) walked up in front together. And did it together. Laughing throughout. But at least we did it.
Then there was the concert. The teachers were great. They put in a lot of effort, considering how much marking and SPA-ing they had to do already. And somehow I felt everyone was still not appreciative. Applause was half-hearted. There was no cheering for your teachers. It was all pretty sad. I miss the whole screaming your hearts out thing at RG. That was fun! Is it the boys? Are boys really that boring? And is it because the boys aren't enthusiastic, the girls feel they shouldn't be too? Or is it just the behaviour of 17 year olds? 'Hey, we're practically adults now, why should we be screaming like little kids'? It's all in the name of fun, WHAT! Grace is wonderful... She was the one who kept cheering on... I just wonder where all her spirit comes from. Ms Lo was so daring. Yes... she revealed the bimbo in her... Heh. And Mr McTay is simply amusing. I don't know... I think it's the way he walks, his expression or maybe how he seems to be oblivious to his surroundings. The moment McTay was announced, I looked at Nikki and she said, "Koory poof!" Hahaha.
After that we had the class party. To think that we were afraid there wouldn't be enough food. We had too MUCH! We kept donating to people. People kept popping into our room too, hearing about the pizza. But there was still so much left. We had two unopened tins of cookies, uncountable packets of crackers, one tray of brownie, 3 bottles of gassy drink and one box of pizza. Shafia said we have enough to last till half of next year. Haha. The biscuits are currently residing in Jean's locker.
And 10.40 am, me, addy and nikki set off for our respective ex-schools. Nikki, to cedar and addy and me back to qiaonan, not rg. Felt a bit guilty for not going back to my secondary school, but really, who am I actually dying to see? Truly, no one. Of course, it'd be nice to see some teachers... my cikgus, ms leow maybe, mdm yeo, who have been nice to me... But... I wouldn't know what to say! I mean, throughout my four years in RGS, I haven't been close to any of the teachers and suddenly I'm coming back and being all buddy-buddy and I-miss-you-teachers-so-much ing? Not bloody likely. If I had gone back there with Lilian and co, the most I would do is stand around and smile. A tag-along, in short.
So I went back to my primary school. It never ceases to amaze me how much one thing can change and yet how it still seems the same. The uncle who sells the drinks has a fantastic memory. He still remembers me and addy! He still does. Everytime I come back, he remembers. Bought a peel fresh drink like I always used to back then. The tables seem really small. Addy and me kept recalling all the food we used to eat... how delicious it was... and how cheap! The first stall now has halal tim sum! I can't believe it. The uncle there is the same too. And oh my god. The cleaner lady is the same.
Saw Mrs Choo, who besides her increasing number of white hairs, looks the same. When we came at 12 o'clock, she was still teaching. (They had lessons! Poor things.) So we hung around till 1.15 when they would be done. Saw Ms Chua, the music teacher. She has really grown older... Mdm Sutinah, Mrs Vera Tan (who doesn't seemed to have aged a day!) and Mrs PC Tan. She taught us Social Studies and I'd forgotten how much we loathed her! Until she started talking on and on. I don't hate her now of course, but when I remembered how much we used to dread her lessons, I really wanted to laugh. Everything seems so funny. She just loves to talk! Goodness... she would ramble on about this niece, that relative, who she knew was in university now... but she has always been nice. But I remember that when she became angry, it was scary.
When it was finally past 1.15, and we could talk to Mrs Choo... there was stiff competition. Practically EVERY STUDENT IN SIGHT wanted to talk to Mrs Choo. That's how popular she is. But Addy and me, being the oldest, won. She talked to us first. Asked about JC life... talked of a future gathering where everyone would come. And all the while, students walking past said hi to her, passed her presents... students wearing unknown uniforms even... Students from everywhere, who remember her. It really is amazing. To the extent that she would forget some of them... We had a lot of fun trying to remember the name of a boy who came up to her. With spiky hair and who was supposedly dressed 'coolly'. At first I had no idea who he was, then it struck me. And I said, unable to stop myself, "Oh my God!" He looked so different! Besides the fact that he was much taller (he used to be shorter than me, so imagine my surprise), he was just so changed from his nerdy, prefect self. He is 2 years my junior. So Sec 3 now. And I remember how he used to take the same school bus home. And I stood there, pretty much shocked. Boys really change a lot when they grow up. When I think of it, if I haven't been seeing my brother every day, I'd have freaked out by the way he's changed over the years.
So... we had a good chat with Mrs Choo. Hugged her a couple of times. Laughed at a few things. I gave her my present. And then we let her attend to her other students. My sister was around too and she went to see Mrs Choo as well. According to her, there was a queue of people to see Mrs Choo. I suppose this is the reward for being a dedicated teacher. And I don't think she'd want to be anything else. She's made to teach and inspire.
Some teachers have their share of fans too. But the thing that makes Mrs Choo so loved is perhaps because of her capacity to care. She cares for everyone. And she shows it. When we had a class, she used to be concerned about each student. We had a lot of fun with her. Normally, teachers tend to have favourites. The smart ones. The ones who participate. The ones who ask questions. The extroverted ones. And it's fine. It's natural to be more attentive of those who speak up, who make themselves heard. But Mrs Choo somehow reached out to everyone. Me, the quiet, meek one. Though I suppose I could classify as the one who always got high marks... hey primary school what. But even the 'mat's! The naughty kids. The delinquents. THEY COME BACK. Because, I suppose, they appreciate her. Half of my class isn't pursuing a college course. A lot are in polytechnic. Some have started working. A few Cambodians have gone to their native country to work. But we all remember her. Of course, this year, my batch didn't really turn up... but we're going to have a gathering. I hope it materialises. It will be exciting to see how everyone is now.
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