Primary Wankjobs

Today out of nowhere, I suddenly had this memory rush back to Primary 2. I was only 8 years old then, probably sitting for my 3rd school examination of my life, the Mid Years. Already, since we continued in the same class as in Primary 1, we all knew who the smart blokes were and who the stragglers were.

My mum had always this huge thing about me HAVING to top the class. There was no two ways about it. It HAD to happen. I guess she had a lot of trust not so much in my talents or grey matter, but in the cane and assessment books. There was only one other boy in my class, who could kinda knock me off the top spot and my mum as the same as his mum was dead serious about their child topping the class. Topping the class of 2A, is a given topping of the standard. So it was a kill 2 birds with one stone theory.

So, we wrote the exams and all that. And when the results got out, he had scored a perfect 300 in the 3 exams we sat for. English, Maths, Mother Tongue. I on the other hand had a close 299. This because in one of those "I give you the picture, you write the word" thingies, I wrote the word "frog". Well, since I like things cramped and confined [yum..] , my "o" and "g" were so close the teacher insisted that my "o" was actually an "a".

Obviously the merits of cursive handwriting were lost on this woman. So, I lost out by a single mark. It was a highly pissing off moment and from that day on, my mum never let me forget it too, till I topped the school in the PSLE of course. That kinda shut her mouth up about all my primary school antics and near suspensions/expulsions. The poor boy however, after that one mid-year exams, was never ever known by his real name in my house although I knew even his younger brother's and even dad's name very well, surname and all. To my mum, he was just "300". Yes, for the next 4 years, it was always "How did 300 do?" or "What marks did 300 get?".

I had another run-in with Mr. 300 in Primary 6. See, there was 2 ways to top the school. One was to just be the highest mark in the PSLE. Another was the more internal, highest marks in the Prelims which will set the stage for grandeur. So, some dickhead said that for the first time Social Studies scores will be calculated into the marks for the prelims and these are the marks that get printed in the report book, so if you weren't strong in knowing how many MRT stations were underground / above ground, you should get down to it now.

We had a Social Studies project to do. The usual shit. Back then, although I did own a computer, back in MS DOS times, projects were kinda always hand written or hand drawn. So, there I did my nice project on South East Asian countries, taking time and effort to hand write the statistics, and steal pages from the National Library so I could cut them and paste it into the Scrap Book I was working on. If you remember, all scrap books back then had the words "Scrap Book" printed on them. Using any other kind is academic suicide.

But, though all of us in the class did it this way. Some of course, prettier than the others, the scrap book turned out. Mr. 300 simply put in his MS Encarta CD and printed wholesale ALL the information on every Asian country, stapled it together, bound it and handed it in. He got a whopping 95% for his project because my teacher insisted that anything done on a computer had to be solid stuff as compared to hand written stuff. That bozo of course, was not digitally qualified. He didn't know of course, the meaning of the term "Print All Selected". Bastard! Now I was royally pissed.

Now it was race down to the last paper. Science. I had a horrid record in Science, garnering just 76% for my Primary 5 Mid Years. Since then, I had got whacked by belt, cane, any available furniture; to get my grades back up in the >95 level. After the marks for English, Math, Mother Tongue and Social Studies was released we were actually tied. So, now it all depended on Science. We waited and waited but the fuckin teacher took soo long to mark it that both of us nearly peed in our pants in utter suspense. And then, the marks came out and I had beat this mofo by a good solid 5 marks. You might think now that 5 marks was no biggie. But trust me, when you always ply your trade between 95 and 100. 5 marks is a make or break margin.

Ah, I still remember all these like it happened yesterday. Alas, what did happen yesterday was that I imbibed enough alcohol to last me till today. Still, I managed to get the necessary done and I'm glad of that. Damn, I'm good.

Since we are on the topic of primary schools and all, I have with the aid of others who were online just now compiled a list of the Public Enemies No. 1 back when we were 7-12 years of age:

1. Chinese boys who READ the dictionary

I have no idea who taught them this. The ones who I asked told me, it will improve their English cos they learn new words all the time. "300" used to do this all the time.
2. People who say "i don know anything" and then come up tops

I am not such a person and these people really irk me to the core. If you know, then say la. If you're gonna ace it, say la. KNNBCCB. To think it happens all the way to university even. And the bastardos in uni will not only say they don't know but won't even help teach you stuff they do know. Right Vik?

3. The ones who steal your Bookworm Club books.

I know your mummy don't give you money to buy books. It's not my fault she didn't see the value of words printed on pages. I however, would like my books to remain MINE. To that bitch who stole mine and then said I stole hers and made me have to prove it by bringing form teacher, mother to the book fair uncle: FUCK U UNDERSTAND!

4. The assholes who always have more money to spend than u at the book fair

Don't we all know this feeling. Not only at the book fair. At the canteen, at Toys R Us, at the bookshop across the school. Farkers.

5. The little cunts that pao toh you

I never understood the need for someone to sabo another especially when we're all of the same level and you damn well know I'm a bit too smart to fry for it. To that bitch in Pri 6 who told on me, when I let my fountain pen look-a-like squirt all over my form teacher's checkered shirt of the same colour: FUCK U UNDERSTAND, BURN IN HELL AND UR GRANDPOPS CAN'T CUT HAIR FOR NUTS, ASK HIM CLOSE HIS BARBERSHOP!
6. The Chinese teachers

The Chinese teachers in Pri School were by far the most hated subject teachers. Partly because they were so anal about "kai zhen" aka corrections. And the thing was you had to do it in a different pen. Most preferred colour was green in my school. Upon checking with students from other schools, it actually looked like an MOE effort to standardize all corrections to be done in green. What a colour man. I tell you, the only ones who ever gained from the education system are not the teachers, not the principals, especially not the students, but the bookshops.


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