PTM (and Rocky update)
In every one of the six years of primary school, my report book came back saying that I was "too quiet in class." When I entered secondary school, the predominant comment (on my report book) was that I was "too talkative." If the teachers would've just made up their minds, and given us a word limit for how many words we could speak per day, it would've made (school) life a little less confusing.
***
"Are you free Saturday morning, at like 8:30 AM?" my dad popped into my room to ask.
"Sure, I'm free, whassup?" I asked. I really wanted to add, But being free is one thing, being awake is quite another; I thought I'd hear him out first.
Big mistake. My brother's school's annual Parents-Teachers Meet (PTM) was due, and my dad had to be pulled away for some work thing at the last minute, so this meant that he couldn't attend. Just like that, I was assigned to Fill in His Shoes.
***
I recognised a couple of names on the list of teachers -- former teachers of mine. They left presumably because we were too much to handle. And they thought it'd be better in a boys' school? I don't understand.
But anyway, I did get to speak to one of them a little bit, which was fun, because neither of us was expecting to meet someone from 10 years ago. ;) She taught me Science in Sec 1, and my fondest memory of her was when she came into class beaming one day:
"Why are you so happy, Miss Tan?" someone asked.
"Today I'm going to start on a new topic with the Sec 2's!" she squealed. "Chapter 13! Isn't that exciting?!"
Chapter 13, back then, was famously known -- to us, at least -- as the chapter on the human reproductive system.
***
The other teacher (whose name gave me chills when I spotted it on the list) taught me Maths that same year that Miss Tan (now married) taught me. She screamed at us every lesson, and broke down crying every other lesson.
But those chills quickly turned to laughter as I remembered how we used to make fun of her accent and her fragile pronunciation; she came from a French-speaking part of Mauritius, so those of you who can imagine, "factor" and "factorisation" became f--, er, let's just say they rhymed with "puck-tor" and "puck-torisation." Every time she said it, the class'd dissolve into giggles.
Also, there was this one time where she pointed to a spot behind her and growled: "Can someone please clean up this poodle?!"
"Oh my gosh," I think it was X who exclaimed, while craning her neck for a better look. "She brought her dog to school?!"
Anyway it turned out that there was a puddle of water on the floor that she wanted to be cleaned up.
(Children, please do not try this at home. It is not nice to make fun of your teachers. Okay, resuming normal transmission...)
***
PTM was pretty much made up of waiting around a lot, with many parents complaining about how bad the system was, and being alarmingly rude to the teachers. It was funny to watch, and to learn not to be like them. Hur hur. One parent waited a half-hour to get her 10-minute slot with the teacher, only to spend the entire 10 minutes talking about how she was made to wait for half an hour!
But PTM also made me realise that there are some very cute, young male teachers around, and suddenly teaching has gone back up on my list of viable future occupations.
***
We were talking to my brother's History teacher, and asking -- as usual -- if there was anything on our part that we could do to help with his dismal results. I didn't take History at 'O' Levels, so that's one subject that I'm absolutely clueless at.
"Well, some people are just more predisposed to be weaker at some subjects. It's in their genes," she said.
I didn't know whether to laugh or to lunge at her from across the table.
***
Rocky's fever has subsided, but he's staying in a third night, because he hasn't been keeping liquids down.
We ran into our (or his) vet while we were shopping in Orchard after PTM! She told us that Rocky kept overturning his food bowl whenever they mixed his medicine in. (We typically make a little pastry thingy out of bread, with his meds as the "stuffing," that he just swallows whole. But even then he regularly manages to eat only the bread and spit the tablet out.) I didn't know whether to be embarrassed and to apologise for his bad behaviour, laugh at his silliness, or beam with pride at his wit.
It's this concoction of contrasting emotions that makes it all worthwhile.
***
On our way home, we dropped by to visit my favourite pooch. In the back room, another girl was there visiting her cat who was suffering from liver failure (among pet owners who meet in vet clinics, we don't even ask for each other's names; we recognise each other by the pets we own).
"Hey babe," I gingerly opened the cage door. "Bad news, doc says you have to stay in one more day. But the good news is that you get to come home tomorrow, okay? I promise."
He bounded around in his cage, getting his little paws tangled up in the tube that delivered fluids to his little body, as if to say, Check it out! I'm running on full tank now! Take me home!
"I wish I could take you home, too. You have no idea," I whispered, the tears coming to my eyes. "One more night, okay? Just one more night."
He backed away, and in an act of protest, swivelled around, lifted up one hind leg, and peed on me.
Everyone's attention turned to Rocky, and after the momentary shock, all (except me!) burst out in incredulous laughter.
"OH MY GOSH, I've never seen that happen before!" the vet's assistant howled, slapping her hands on her thighs.
"He really doesn't want to stay another night!" the girl who was visiting her cat pointed out, guffawing.
"You are so going to get it when we get home!" I wagged my finger in Rocky's face.
My mom (also laughing, the nerve!) hurriedly grabbed some tissue to soak up the stain. Very funny, Rocky, now it looks like I peed in my pants.
***
The bar has been set.
The new acid test (hur hur) for relationships is whether or not it withstands both parties peeing on each other, although I'm not sure I'll hold up my end of the... er, peeing.
No one knows how to wipe away my tears better than my dog, even if I would've liked for it to be in a more dignified way.
***
"Tomorrow," I confirmed gruffly, narrowing my eyes at him. "Come home TOMORROW."
***
"Are you free Saturday morning, at like 8:30 AM?" my dad popped into my room to ask.
"Sure, I'm free, whassup?" I asked. I really wanted to add, But being free is one thing, being awake is quite another; I thought I'd hear him out first.
Big mistake. My brother's school's annual Parents-Teachers Meet (PTM) was due, and my dad had to be pulled away for some work thing at the last minute, so this meant that he couldn't attend. Just like that, I was assigned to Fill in His Shoes.
***
I recognised a couple of names on the list of teachers -- former teachers of mine. They left presumably because we were too much to handle. And they thought it'd be better in a boys' school? I don't understand.
But anyway, I did get to speak to one of them a little bit, which was fun, because neither of us was expecting to meet someone from 10 years ago. ;) She taught me Science in Sec 1, and my fondest memory of her was when she came into class beaming one day:
"Why are you so happy, Miss Tan?" someone asked.
"Today I'm going to start on a new topic with the Sec 2's!" she squealed. "Chapter 13! Isn't that exciting?!"
Chapter 13, back then, was famously known -- to us, at least -- as the chapter on the human reproductive system.
***
The other teacher (whose name gave me chills when I spotted it on the list) taught me Maths that same year that Miss Tan (now married) taught me. She screamed at us every lesson, and broke down crying every other lesson.
But those chills quickly turned to laughter as I remembered how we used to make fun of her accent and her fragile pronunciation; she came from a French-speaking part of Mauritius, so those of you who can imagine, "factor" and "factorisation" became f--, er, let's just say they rhymed with "puck-tor" and "puck-torisation." Every time she said it, the class'd dissolve into giggles.
Also, there was this one time where she pointed to a spot behind her and growled: "Can someone please clean up this poodle?!"
"Oh my gosh," I think it was X who exclaimed, while craning her neck for a better look. "She brought her dog to school?!"
Anyway it turned out that there was a puddle of water on the floor that she wanted to be cleaned up.
(Children, please do not try this at home. It is not nice to make fun of your teachers. Okay, resuming normal transmission...)
***
PTM was pretty much made up of waiting around a lot, with many parents complaining about how bad the system was, and being alarmingly rude to the teachers. It was funny to watch, and to learn not to be like them. Hur hur. One parent waited a half-hour to get her 10-minute slot with the teacher, only to spend the entire 10 minutes talking about how she was made to wait for half an hour!
But PTM also made me realise that there are some very cute, young male teachers around, and suddenly teaching has gone back up on my list of viable future occupations.
***
We were talking to my brother's History teacher, and asking -- as usual -- if there was anything on our part that we could do to help with his dismal results. I didn't take History at 'O' Levels, so that's one subject that I'm absolutely clueless at.
"Well, some people are just more predisposed to be weaker at some subjects. It's in their genes," she said.
I didn't know whether to laugh or to lunge at her from across the table.
***
Rocky's fever has subsided, but he's staying in a third night, because he hasn't been keeping liquids down.
We ran into our (or his) vet while we were shopping in Orchard after PTM! She told us that Rocky kept overturning his food bowl whenever they mixed his medicine in. (We typically make a little pastry thingy out of bread, with his meds as the "stuffing," that he just swallows whole. But even then he regularly manages to eat only the bread and spit the tablet out.) I didn't know whether to be embarrassed and to apologise for his bad behaviour, laugh at his silliness, or beam with pride at his wit.
It's this concoction of contrasting emotions that makes it all worthwhile.
***
On our way home, we dropped by to visit my favourite pooch. In the back room, another girl was there visiting her cat who was suffering from liver failure (among pet owners who meet in vet clinics, we don't even ask for each other's names; we recognise each other by the pets we own).
"Hey babe," I gingerly opened the cage door. "Bad news, doc says you have to stay in one more day. But the good news is that you get to come home tomorrow, okay? I promise."
He bounded around in his cage, getting his little paws tangled up in the tube that delivered fluids to his little body, as if to say, Check it out! I'm running on full tank now! Take me home!
"I wish I could take you home, too. You have no idea," I whispered, the tears coming to my eyes. "One more night, okay? Just one more night."
He backed away, and in an act of protest, swivelled around, lifted up one hind leg, and peed on me.
Everyone's attention turned to Rocky, and after the momentary shock, all (except me!) burst out in incredulous laughter.
"OH MY GOSH, I've never seen that happen before!" the vet's assistant howled, slapping her hands on her thighs.
"He really doesn't want to stay another night!" the girl who was visiting her cat pointed out, guffawing.
"You are so going to get it when we get home!" I wagged my finger in Rocky's face.
My mom (also laughing, the nerve!) hurriedly grabbed some tissue to soak up the stain. Very funny, Rocky, now it looks like I peed in my pants.
***
The bar has been set.
The new acid test (hur hur) for relationships is whether or not it withstands both parties peeing on each other, although I'm not sure I'll hold up my end of the... er, peeing.
No one knows how to wipe away my tears better than my dog, even if I would've liked for it to be in a more dignified way.
***
"Tomorrow," I confirmed gruffly, narrowing my eyes at him. "Come home TOMORROW."
posted by Laughingcow at 8:41 pm
2 Comments:
Maybe that's Rocky's way of sealing a promise. Haha.
Postmaster-General: I'm sure your dog misses you too. Hopefully you'll get to see him soon. :)
Zen|th: It looks like I'm not going to be able to hold up my end -- doc wants to keep him in another night because his temperature keeps dropping i.e. way below what it should be. Sealing a promise indeed. Maybe I'll get peed on twice when he gets home -- for breaking it.
Post a Comment
<< Home