Photowriting

This week ended with a day that opened with a morning storm, the kind that lashes at windows and pummels rooftops. The kind that wakes you up irrevocably and unapologetically. It's probably meaningless to talk about differences in weather across an island as small as Singapore, but it has always seemed to me that, ever since I started schooling in the Bukit Timah area, thunderstorms in central Singapore have always seemed more awesome than elsewhere. Maybe it has something to do with the lack of tall buildings, thereby depriving you of any semblance of real shelter from the power of the storms that hit this area. Maybe it's not that the rain is heavier or the thunder louder, and it's just that there is less standing between one and the storm. At any rate, it feels more raw there. You feel more exposed. And it's thrilling.

Anyway, it's been a good end to a good week, I think, a week of good productivity and rewarding work. My Sec 2s are producing a series of advertisements for their class soccer teams, and I just started delving into The Air-Conditioned Nation with the Sec 3s. It feels good to be making progress now, and getting feedback from the boys that all this stuff is useful. So little stands between a worthwhile class and a waste of time; and it is reassuring to know that they are absorbing at least some of it. On the other hand, I keep telling them, though, that I'm not their teacher, that I'm not a real teacher. Partly it's to kill off any great expectations before they can take root, to preempt any hint of a disproportionate impression of my work and my self that I will not be able to, or willing to, live up to. But I also realise that it's partly for myself; I need to hear this, in order to keep my sense of perspective balanced. I get so close, sometimes, to thinking that I am actually doing this well. The moment I am convinced of that is the moment to quit, because from that point onwards I will begin to harm my kids more than I help them.

Also, for three afternoons last week, joined the team working with the CHS group for the TV debating show, The Arena. That's two of them up there debating in a conference room. A good shot, if you would permit me this one indulgence. The Arena, being a televised thing, with teams dressed up as punks and hooligans even, was never really a serious forum for bandying about ideas; certainly it has always given me the impression of being about style over substance (and thus, the arty-farty shot above). But I have to say that we did manage to discuss some solid concepts and ideas during our preparation sessions. It's one thing to meet because you feel you have to, and it makes you feel better to be doing something to give yourself the psychological comfort of action. But once we got beyond that, and started to pull away from the breathless flurry of actions to concentrate on getting some real action going intellectually, it really was quite fun to discuss ideas with them. In this school, people get overawed by talk too easily, and it was good to see others being able to look past the spiel to the substance.

So, later that night, popped down to the riverside again to find the old gang for dinner and (purportedly) drinks. Here's Circular Road at Boat Quay with the skyline in the background. In a split-second of déjà-vu, it struck me how much the view from this particular traffic island at the end of Circular Road reminds me of Campbell Street in Penang. Walking a bit further down, I came upon the view below, which reminded me even more of Penang. I call this one "Irony".

Anyway, walked quite a distance from Boat Quay to Far East Square, then, deciding that it was too expensive, we sojourned to SGX where JY introduced us to a great ramen place. And we finished off by going over to Lau Par Sat for a couple of jugs of Tiger (no, it doesn't taste better when drunk in a venue that's not an Officers' Mess). It occurs to me that this group of us may be beginning to be stuck in a routine, so that it becomes inconceivable for us to meet in circumstances that don't involve Fridays, dinners and, crucially, drinks. We may be beginning to indulge ourselves heavily in the company of one another, getting drunk on being in a group together rather than being engaged in the shades and nuances of the interactions. For I don't care what other say, but being sober has consistently given me better experiences across the full sensory, intellectual and spiritual range, than being inebriated. That being said, though, I'm not one to begrudge anyone his own little traditions; to be sure, we all need our personal routines to remain anchored and sane, even. And how many people can depend on company of such calibre every Friday night? That should just be appreciated in and of itself.

So, the next day, went down to Caldecott for the filming of the Arena show that pitted our team against RI's team (and I say "our" out of convenience, because it means about as much to me to say the Raffles side is "my" team). I had expected something much swankier, actually; the place that produces everything from Channel 8 drama serials to Channel NewsAsia documentaries is really quite run-down. And certainly, the set for the Arena appears much smaller in real life. When you can see all the duct tape and the jury-rigging behind the camera-perfect façade, it's like being told the truth about Santa Claus. Something mystical, fantastical even, is lost when you can appreciate that any system can have cracks in it. Is there any more poignant metaphor for the arbitrariness and fragility of this thing we call reality than the make-up lady patting away sweat and wrinkles with her trusty powder puff?

Anyway, we did not win the debate. I would not say that RI won the debate, and neither would I say that we lost, because I don't think the final outcome had that much to do with what either team put forward under the spotlight. In other words, I don't think either team was personally responsible for the final decision. If it were possible, I think it would have ended up in a tie. But because of the limits of the TV show, someone had to emerge victorious. Now, if we had lost because of a lack of preparation or an attitude that left something to be desired, then we should be rightly peeved and we should endure a cutting self-appraisal of the team itself, rather than the case we put forward. Equally, if RI had won due to transcendant insight and incisive intellect, then they should be rightly proud of themselves, and deserving of such lauding. But the fact is that the final scores were really too close to call, even in the final round. And in the same sense that winning a caucus by five percentage points doesn't send a resounding signal, the margin on Saturday was so close that to make a case for or against the character and quality of the debaters themselves (as opposed to their cases) would be ludicrous. At least, that's what I think.

But I do have something to admit; I did indulge in a bit of self-righteousness. I couldn't resist it. There is a distinct sense of vindictive pleasure in being cuttingly nice to people who would make themselves out to be your enemy. So in response to the frigidity and (yes, I dare say it) downright rudeness of one of the adults from the camp that would make themselves out to be our opponents (honestly, that kind of childishness belongs in the sitcom studios, not in a professional educator), we gave back good-natured applause, cheering, congratulations and good cheer. I have to say that the way we conducted ourselves was inspiring. It made me proud to be standing on that side of the audience. Proud enough to give RI a standing ovation when the results were announced. I think we played well, and we presented ourselves commendably, and the outcome is not as important as behaving in a civil manner that befits people who purport to be able to argue on a highly intellectual level.

Here's a thought for you: After the show, both teams were in the same changing room getting out of their costumes. I suggested that since we had already lost, and since we had wanted the experience of debating in the finals, then we shouldn't let the fact of our not being on the final ticket stand in our way. We should therefore help RI in their case: join forces and see what we can come up with. That way, we would be able to at least get the experience of constructing a case for one more motion. And to top it off, and make use of the television platform, we could still improve the standing of both schools. When RI wins, they would magnanimously offer CHS half of the prize money in a gesture of goodwill and appreciation for them having been worthy opponents. Then, while the viewers at home drop their jaws in amazement at this seemingly unprompted act of good sportsmanship, our teacher in charge would come up, shake the RI team's hands warmly, and then turn to the camera and declare that we totally appreciated the thought, but we could not accept one cent of the prize money, because RI deserved every penny of it. And, in the midst of island-wide amazement, both sides would take their leave of the Arena.

And what would come of this? Forum letters the next day praising our education system for the quality of people that it churns out nowadays. Phone calls to the principals from parents and alumni that are moved to tears. Maybe even a TV spot on that night's news. What could be the worst thing to happen? Even if no one believes it (and I think they'll believe it), the schools would just come out and say that it was a highly sophisticated and cynical comment on how society has grown too pragmatic and has lost touch with the finer side of people's characters. If we can't come across as magnanimous, then we'll just come across as insightful.

But of course, first RI and then CHS turned it down. It's an idea that contradicts too much the irrational and counter-productive sense of school nationalism that everyone seems to have these days. Even when it's clear that both stand to gain by cooperating, neither side would stand down from their guns because they've grown too comfortable with the feeling of being under seige from the other side. So much for our vaunted Win-Win philosophy.

Remind me one day to elaborate on an innovation I made on that philosophy. There is a possibility that isn't adequately considered, I think: the stand that I shall term the "I'll help you win and then you can't stop me from gaining too" stand.

Anyway - today was my family's Qing Ming day, and we went down to the Bishan columbarium right behind RJC for the yearly alcove-cleaning. While my younger cousins and siblings were burning the paper currency offerings, one word jumped into my head: Zimbabwe. At any rate, it also occurs to me that this will be the last time in four years that I will be attending Qing Ming. Here is yet another step that I have took to be closer to August. Here is another part of this life that I have left behind in my race to look forward.

And, even at this late stage, I am finding new things that are worth remembering. In all my years so far, I have not done the Tampines-Simei walk. So this morning, finding myself at the Tampines parish of the Holy Trinity, I decided to follow the train tracks home, and came across these views. Above, cars whizz by on the PIE under the train viaduct. That's Simei on the other side of the highway. Below, a view from the overhead bridge spanning the highway at the tessellation of apartment windows. And further down, a view of a block of flats I have never seen before, from a quaint little park I had never known existed, even though I live only two streets away.

I saw these thing today with the stark awareness that I don't know my own neighbourhood well enough to say a proper goodbye to it some August. It could conceivably be the case that I would know Morningside Heights better than Simei after four years. Here, at home, my orbit is so familiar and so narrow (I have walked the path between the train station and my house literally tens of thousands of times) that there is no urge to get out and see more. When I get to New York, I daresay the opposite will be true, and I will have to restrain myself from spending all my time exploring. And yet, even here in my home city, in my own neighbourhood, there are moments of wanderlust to be had, moments that rival any that can be encountered abroad. The only thing that's really different is that these home-located moments lack that certain glamour of Elsewhere.