In the winter of 2007, I was depressed, dispirited, dissatisfied with the way my professional life was heading. I had been teaching the same tired syllabus at the same old stuffy rural Dutch school, facing the same joyless people for the eighth year, and there was virtually nothing promising on the horizon. I was still relatively young (35-6); I wondered if that was all my professional life could offer me. This is a common fate for educators. Within education there is very little room for professional development (never mind what kind of sweet talk school managements usually give young teachers): You start out as a lower-secondary minion doing all the menial tasks that nobody wants to do, then in the third or fourth year, if the management sees fit, you will perhaps be “promoted” to upper-secondary, where there's more of an intellectual challenge. For a while you're content. But the passing years have a tendency to wear down even the staunchest of spirits. You realise in the end the only way to move further up in education is to take on an administrative role – a position that has zero attraction value to someone whose interest lies in intellect rather than human relations. Such was my status quo when an e-mail message from an IB school in Malaysia came into my mailbox one morning asking if I would be interested in working for them. This was an incredible chance. I had been seeking a way to escape from the bourgeois lifestyle of the Dutch for years and here was my key.
I was cautious at first: What would life be like there? What kind of school is it? What sort of students do they have? What sort of colleagues? Unanswerable questions trailed me across the Christmas of 2007. When January 2008 arrived, I had made up my mind to pursue the offer, partly because I knew, despite the unpredictability of the situation, I would beat myself over the head for as long as I lived were I to let this one pass me by.
The school I ended up joining in July 2008 is KDU. The students I was assigned to teach were IB5. The people who became my colleagues were the very ones to be found now in the IB staffroom. But this note is about IB5...
What else can be said about IB5 that hasn't already been said? We all know they're highly expressive, original, creative, determined – to the point of recalcitrance. We know they like to dress up in outrageous costumes. We know they love birthday parties. We know they tend to miss classes (the cause of Mr Azhar's high blood pressure). We know they laugh a great deal at the most inappropriate things, and cry and sulk when confronted by failure. We know they see us as their friends (or relatives) rather than teachers. We know all these things, and yet it feels as if my descriptions of them were dissatisfyingly incomplete... This is because everything I've said up until now has to do with them. I haven't yet looked at how they've affected me as a teacher.
These days I am always finding myself in talks with Dutch schools about job vacancies and the like, and one of the things I get asked is: What are your current students like? This question unnerves me because I know I can't tell the unadulterated truth (strangers would find my hyperboles offputting) and I don't want to undermine IB5's role in my professional development. So I usually say something cryptic like: “Oh, I've worked with the best.” IB5 is an IB educator's dream come true. They're intellectually curious, fond of challenges, and most importantly, have open characters (not a trace of malice in them) which enable them to reach across that loveless void to connect with whoever lucky enough to stand in their path. In the drab field of education, such sparkling specimens are incredibly rare. It means when the educator gives his best, he will also be reciprocated with the students' best – both academically and interpersonally. He tells them about the search for happiness through Literature; they show him that happiness is already here and is within reach. For an educator to find himself in a situation like this, Luck will have to play a major role. Perhaps it's not Luck. Perhaps it's that more definitive force called Fate. I was fated to be approached by KDU in that winter. It was Fate's doing that I should come face to face with IB5 in July 2008 and stay with them for two years. And because of this life-changing (it can't be anything else) experience, I will now enter a post-IB5 world a different individual, one who has finally understood the joy of camaraderie and the point of existence in a cold, largely impersonal world.
We, the IB teachers, wish IB5 all the best for their examinations. Peace and love.
Edward Ong
Editor-in-Chief
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A FEW WORDS
FROM THE DEPUTY EDITOR
Can you feel it? A sense of empty calm in the air?
That’s certainly what I had in mind when I reminisce on the events of the past month. The IB took some time off its busy schedule especially for two major events: the farewell party for IB June 2008 (or IB5) and the long-awaited IB-organised That 70s Dinner in aid of Stepping Stones Living Centre.
The end of these events, to me, marks a significant milestone in the collective history of IB June 2009. The educational year for the IB is soon drawing to a close, which means we are that much closer to our final exams, and if we’re not already, it is time we get down to the really serious business of completing our diploma. That our seniors are sitting for their final exams gave me the thought that in doing so, they are passing on the baton of ‘senior-hood’ to us, and along with that the task of mentoring the IB freshmen scheduled to be introduced to Sri KDU come the new term next month.
All in all, a moment of mixed feelings, of anticipation, fear, anxiety, excitement, and sadness.
But enough of that! What is in store for you, our readers, in this issue? (‘Refurbishment’ is currently underway to give you a more impressive magazine for your enjoyment, so please accept our apologies for any inconvenience.)
This month, we are pleased to showcase two blog entries, one of which is a book review, and our very first short story entries! A heartfelt gratitude goes out to Cassandra for her revealing cliff-hanger story. Also in this issue is a dedication article to bid our seniors adieu. So please savour this short edition of Opinionated Monthly, just for this month, and satiate thy intellectual appetites for fresh, meaningful thoughts.
FIAT JUSTITIA ET PEREAT MUNDUS
Chin Keat Meng
Deputy Editor
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