Part 1: SUMMER
The Four Seasons (Italian: Le quattro stagioni) is a set of four violin concertos by Antonio Vivaldi . Composed in 1723,
The Four Seasons is Vivaldi's
best-known work, and is among the most popular pieces of Baroque music. The texture of each concerto is varied, each
resembling its respective season. For example, "Winter" is peppered
with silvery staccato notes from the high strings,
calling to mind icy rain, whereas "Summer" evokes a thunderstorm in
its final movement, which is why the said movement is often dubbed 'Storm'.
Let no one despise your
youth but be an example to the believers in word, in conduct, in love, in
spirit,in faith, in purity.
I Timothy 4:12
A
thunderstorm, a cloud burst, summer indeed is life itself. As I sat at the
dining table, a wooden one laminated with formica in the little town of Batu
Pahat, I knew I was there not to eat, but to listen. I can’t remember whether
it was a blackboard because I don’t think we had a blackboard, but there in
front of me the teacher stood, chalk in one hand a long ruler in the other. I
was 6 and the teacher was my sister, two years older than me, with a wealth of
two whole years of knowledge more than me, and therefore was qualified to be my
teacher. Simple fun, but there in lay the first foundation stone of the process
of teaching and learning.
Was
teaching ever my first choice? Honestly, no. I’ve always had a penchant for
stylish clothes with matching handbags and shoes and even umbrellas for that
occasional shower. As far as I could remember, stylish teachers who coordinated
their clothes with handbags, shoes and umbrellas were few and far between.
Definitely a public relations officer would be more appropriate for my make-up.
A journalist would be even more ideal given my added passion for writing.
So
I trudged along through my school days. I could remember the best and the worst
of teachers – teachers who cared and teachers who were lazy and made cutting
remarks to hurt impressionable minds. The latter I vowed never to emulate.
But
God’s hand has always been upon me. After graduating from university, I was
given a desk job because I was a Public Services Department Scholar. Right from
the first month, I knew I had to get out or die sitting in a fancy office. I
was bursting with creativity and non-conformist ideas which found no release
behind a desk. I had to flee out of Egypt and enrolling for a diploma course in
teaching was Canaan to me.
So
I was thrust into the world of teaching, not by choice, but by circumstances.
Having upheld the motto of excelling in whatever I do for God, I put my heart
into the heart of teaching.
When
the diploma course ended, the next hurdle was naturally the much dreaded word
‘posting’. The thought of being flung to the outback and the most remote area sent
shivers down my spine and God spared me that ordeal and I was posted to a town
school.
Armed
with flannel boards and hand drawn charts, most of which remained with me for
years until all the colours had faded and they were no longer recognisable, I
could hear my students thinking aloud as they wondered who the clown was.
Undaunted, I embraced thinking out of the box concepts in my teaching, but to
my horror, I received comments like “new broom sweeps clean”, “see how long
she’ll last” and “give her all the worst classes and her enthusiasm will fly out
of the window”. Welcome to the world of reality.
But
I knew the school walls could not contain me. After seven months, I took the
first train out to attend a job interview at the then Institut Teknologi
MARA(ITM). I remembered praying very hard on the train, “Lord, let this be a
one way ticket out. If I remain here, my creativity and ingenuity will
suffocate and I’ll probably never get married because all the good ones have
been taken.” No mincing of words. God heard that prayer and I got the job at
ITM.
Part 2: AUTUMN
Delight yourself also in the
Lord and He shall give you the desires of your heart.
Psalm 37:4
John
Keats in his Ode to Autumn described the season as filled with images of
fruitfulness. Indeed my years in the classrooms of Universiti Teknologi MARA
Shah Alam, Segamat, Dungun and Puncak Perdana were immensely fulfilling. Nothing
beats enjoying teaching itself and having your students appreciate what you do
is added bonus. I told myself if I can win over 80% of my students’ hearts and
motivate them to become better individuals, I would be happy enough.
One
word I believe describes my lessons – fun. Most of all, I wanted to break
boundaries – to be a teacher, a mentor, a disciplinarian and a friend. Thus
students came to class eager for the day’s dosage of knowledge. It was not uncommon
for them to ask, “Ma’am what will we do today?” the students who had been with
me for a few weeks knew that they could never predict what I had up my sleeve
for the day.
I
told them, “Let’s do a Mandala.”
“A
what?” they queried.
Madonna
has her Kabbala and we know Nelson Mandela but most of us do not know that a
Mandala is actually a Tibetan word for wheel. I had carefully cut out big
circles from mahjong paper the night before and divided each circle into 8
portions. Organising the students into groups of 8, each student had 1/8 of the
Mandala to work with.
“Now
draw out what tomorrow’s world will be like” I challenged them.
“Ma’am,
this is so fun. I haven’t drawn since I was a kid.”
Once
each student had completed his section, the group pieced them together to form
a wheel. Presentations on varied themes evolved: Pollution, Save the World,
Recycling and so on.
Teaching
is not only whiteboard and power point. Unless we reach out to the students,
they will not know that there’s someone who cares. A teacher will stagnate if
he just goes to school to teach and then goes home. I found reading and writing
enhanced my teaching and enlarged my professional expertise. To-date, I’ve
written 22 books, contributed over 300 articles to newspapers and journals, and
presented papers and such in 16 international cities.
But
who is my source of strength?
It
is God who is my timekeeper and my encourager. It is He who reminds me that
every opportunity, every good gift and every blessing comes from Him alone.
Part 3: WINTER
The steps of a good man
are ordered by the Lord and He delights in his way. Though he fall, he shall
not be utterly cast down; For the Lord upholds him with his hand.
(Psalms 37:23)
If
you are a frisky teenager, winter evokes images of snowmen, snow angels, skiing
and snow balls. But pushing into my more senior years, I don’t particularly
like winter because it gets dark early and strong winds blow straight into the
bones. Winter heralds a big change in the weather. And so began big changes in
my life. I ventured into the world of public administration and public
relations, my first love.
Like
a fairy tale, I received a letter from Datuk Mustapha Muhammad, the then
Minister of Higher Education. A
hardworking and brilliant minister, he took a personal interest in the writings
of academics especially contributions to the media. A few of us writers met up
with the minister at the KLIA Pan Pacific. The lunch was delicious but being invited
to such an occasion was tastier.
Sometimes
we ask for change and yet when change comes we miss it because we ask too many
questions or are afraid to grab it. I always believe that God has a plan
destined for us. A journey for us to take. I was like Anastassia (in the
animation of the same name) who stood at the crossroads not knowing whether to
move on to St Petersburg to claim her rightful station in life or to go back to
the village. I had to make a move, so I asked the minister whether I could join
him at the Ministry of Higher Education for a season. He answered, “yes”.
It
was that simple but I knew that unless it was the Hand of God, nothing could
pave the way for me to be seconded to another office. A brand new experience –
I was given a grand office and all the perks that came with the post. I had the
opportunity to serve under three wonderful immediate bosses and I had a taste
of the private education department, the international student department and
the leadership training department.
But
with power and fame, came envy, insidiousness and malice among those who plotted
against me. I knew I had to diligently seek God’s counsel daily. While some may
grumble that Putrajaya was too far away to commute, I preferred to see driving
time as a blessing because I could commune with God, undisturbed, while
driving. Communicating with God on the way to work daily set the day right.
The angels went before me to set straight the path and to quash the murmurings
of my enemies.
"Now
is the winter of our discontent". These are the opening words of
Shakespeare’s play King Richard III (Act 1. Sc. 1: 1-4) to show the
playwright's view of the state of the English nation during the Wars of the
Roses. It is that
shudder of realisation, the one that tells you that something is horribly wrong
and evil doers escape unpunished yet.
But
then again winter reminds me of Christmas. And with Christmas there is hope
when we place our lives in the hands of a loving God, a God who overlooks our
weaknesses, heals our wounds, defends the innocent and vindicates.
So
what did I learn during my stint at the Ministry?
§
That God places and displaces Kings. That while we hope
to be like Nehemiah and rebuild walls, there are also many Sanballat, Geshem
and Tobiah ready to cause mischief and to hurt.
§
That God reigns supreme. If he had brought me into the
Ministry, there was a purpose why he did it. It was the friendships built
during that stint (from those in high places to clerical and security staff).
Those who tugged at my heartstrings when it was time for me to leave the place.
§
That God will put right all the injustices if we bother
to fast and pray, stand in the gap and tear down the strongholds of wickedness
and corruption.
Part 4: SPRING
Unless a grain of wheat
falls into the ground and dies, it remains alone, but if it dies, it produces
much grain
John 12:32
I
look up at Thoor Ballylee, the Tower House belonging to William Butler Yeats.
Nearby at Coole Lake, white swans gracefully swim with cygnets in tow. The air
is fresh and crisp. Hundred year old trees line the countryside road, and the
smell of oven baked soda bread from someone’s kitchen fills the air. Wild
daisies throng the road and fields of lavender overwhelm me. The images seem to
jump up from an Enid Blyton story book or a movie like P.S. I love you.
Yes,
I am in Ireland.
I
have decided to move on from a place I called home for half a century to my new
home for the next 50 years or more. The day I handed in my optional retirement
papers was the best day of my working life. Close friends screamed, “You are
too young” and “What a loss to Malaysia” and my students cried “UiTM will die
without you”.
All
too often we are caught in the mire of what our society or culture dictates. Is
it that necessary that your child gets all distinctions in a public
examination? Do we spend most of our time ferrying our children to the tuition
centre, the ballet school, the gym, the art class……..just to get a ‘head start’?
What about ourselves as we slog day and night to make ends meet and enough is
never enough? When the pay becomes that good, are we willing to let go and take
time to enjoy quality life with half the pay?
I
believe that we only live once. At every turn of our lives, we should pause and
take stock. What have we done, are we happy, is there more to do?
Now
I can go back to my basic instincts – to paint, to read, to sew, to do all the
little things that I like and most of all to smell the flowers. Like Joseph who
was sold as a slave to Egypt only to be promoted to become the Prime Minister
by the Pharaoh, I believe in long term planning. God will always honour the ant
that works hard in summer, the faithful who tithes, the child who perseveres.
In the end, God’s glory will shine when you commit your heart, your ways and
your plans to him.
I
have climbed the high tower of Yeat’s house and surveyed the terrain of my life
and remember how good God has been to me. As I reflect upon the challenges that
I went through and the insurmountable blessings that I have received, I can
only thank my Father who keeps His part of the Covenant: the part of Abba
Father. Ultimately, in the midst of the beauty of the universe and the
constellations, God formed us right in the womb itself. How much loved are we
by this magnificent God.
A
seed has to die to be reborn. In many ways, our characters have to be moulded,
the incongruous parts chipped away by the master sculptor. I am not a finished
product but I can see that the shoots of peonies that I’ve planted are beginning to sprout. It is spring
again and new life has begun. Like Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World, I embrace
my new life that my Father has given me.
In
the meantime, I will continue perfecting the art of frying sausages and hopefully
catch a leprachaun.
