To be honest, my life is full of it. Small, dotty regrets that slowly fragments itself into small, tiny pieces that may seem insignificant, but one step into these fragments will make you bleed, a sign of how vulnerable we can all be. I am never much of a man to speak openly about these wounds, these scars that still hurt and itches, but today, just for today, I want to really talk about the one wound that sticks, and still haunts me till today.
I was 15 then. Ripe and still allowing myself to prance around more often than I should, I was a nuisance to everyone and anyone around me. I was growing out of my love for Maroon 5 and delving into Led Zeppelin and Pearl Jam, and basketball was considered my first and sole love affair at the time.
In order to further spend more time with the love of my life, I frequently skipped remedial classes, and even detention in order to sweat in the basketball court. My life at the time was in a slippery slope due to the inevitable divorce between my mum and stepfather, and I cannot tell you how much basketball had helped me move away from the pain and loss. The love was (and is) all-consuming, and the fact that-
'Andy, could I see you a moment?'
The man who spoke those words in a commanding manner pushed himself out of the classroom. He was sitting in a wheelchair, well groomed and well mannered, with one of his eyebrows being pushed upwards.
My A-Maths teacher, Mr Leong.
I smiled, and could only put up my best poker face at the time. A detention was inevitable, for I have skipped his remedial class the day before. He smiled back, perhaps ominously, and of course put me into the slip slop misery that was detention, and expected me to see him by 3pm. As you might expect from a chronic delinquent like myself, I skipped that, and proceeded to play basketball outside my school.
I did not know how he felt about me skipping his detention, however, for he passed away the week after.
Mr Leong possibly never sat in a wheelchair before 2009. He was not charismatic, nor was he the best looking teacher in Singapore. He was, however, hardworking, and had a soft spot for students. I never had his classes before that particular year, but his good intentions and teaching methods was well known among students. When I was 14, he was a tall, young adult, and always eager to share easier methods to solve math equations, a notion that I would have greatly appreciated if I was interested in Mathematics in the first place.
By the time I was 15, Mr Leong was already in a wheelchair, and he was perhaps a little too scrawny for comfort.
Jokes were made about him, naturally. One of the more famous ones was 'do not look down on him!', and my friends and I would laugh about him. I was pretty sure he heard these nasty things we all said about him, but he never wavered, and continue to water us down with Mathematics, and kept a smile on his face almost all the time.
The revelation took a moment to digest. A little part of me did not really care as much as I should have, and a big part of me was just genuinely shocked. What happened? Why did he pass away so quickly? Did he hold a grudge against me when he ventured beyond the human realm? Could there be extra detention for me?
Luckily for me, maturity settled in, and I went from genuine shock to genuine regret and shame. One of the more respectable teachers I ever had passed away, and the only thought he had of me was me supposedly ditching him for two measly hours of throwing an orange ball into an orange hoop!
I never skipped any classes in my secondary school ever since.
Why did I talk about Mr Leong all of the sudden? I do not know. There is only a handful of people in my life outside of secondary school who knew about this, and I never wanted to share about this. Why now, you may ask? Why bother posting a story about regret, about pain and loss in a different manner as opposed to your other darker, more compelling posts?
Maybe it is because I am genuinely regretting my actions, or maybe because I am just reminiscing the past. I guess the real answer would be the fact that he is one of the few people who actually believed in me. Truly. Unwavering trust that builds the bridge between teacher and student, a sequence that even I cannot achieve towards other teachers/lecturers nowadays.
A friendship.
To Mr Leong, I am sorry. Truly sorry, for missing your detention, or calling you mean names when you were still in this world. I may not be one of the best students you ever taught, but rest assured that you are one of the few teachers that I truly still remember, and respect.
He who forgets will be destined to remember.
