When We Have Left Its Sheltering Walls
Having read the blog of a woman whose daughter has recently started schooling in her alma mater, which also happens to be mine, I suddenly want very much to pay it a visit, having not returned to its sheltering walls in nearly a decade.
The carpark where cars and school buses dropped hundreds of little girls in blue and white uniforms with school-regulated page-boy bobs off, in which the entire school gathered for National Day celebrations, and did the dumb Great Singapore Workout.
The school hall where little girls gathered weekly for chapel, and, for three years, assembled daily to sing the national and school anthems, recite the national pledge, and bow their heads in prayer.
The large green field shared between sister schools, around which little girls ran and where they played captain ball, and on which the entire school had gathered into four teams - Archer (red), Chew (blue), Dodsworth (yellow), and Lee (green) - for annual Sports Days.
The basketball courts where little girls played netball and other games.
The neatly trimmed ixora plants in front of the canteen from whose branches little girls plucked red star-like flowers to suck, and taught other little girls to do so.
The canteen by whose drains little girls had squatted brushing their teeth after recess; the canteen that housed six food stores in front of which little girls obediently formed queues to buy food; the canteen in which little girls sat in two lines along each side of long rectangular tables on wooden benches chatting, giggling, and sharing food; the canteen around which concrete pavements found little girls sitting in circles playing five stones.
The wide space by the side of the canteen where little girls squealed and sprinted, playing catch and hopscotch and zero-point.
The courtyard in which sat a balancing beam on which little girls balanced, playing Scissors-Paper-Stone (the loser had to jump off).
The bookshop that sold cute and sometimes fruity-smelly erasers and colorful stacks of stickers.
The quadrangle where the iron-wrought skeleton of the pumpkin carriage from the operetta, Cinderelle, had been displayed one year when the school had opened in the night for Mid-Autumn celebrations; the quadrangle in which had a little pond with a little curved bridge that had been crossed for millions of times because its novelty never did wear off, and a pavilion where little girls gathered to gossip and talk.
The pond in the Eco-garden that little girls crossed to visit the nasty school rooster, and around which little girls walked to pluck and crush the sticky fragrant blades of lemon grass.
The stairs on which yellow lines had been painted right in the middle to regulate the flow of girls marching up and down, class by class - Faith, Gentleness, Humility, Joy, Kindness, Love, Patience, and Sincerity - little girls in twos, each one holding her partner's hand; the staircases below which homed little study corners.
The classrooms, the ballet room, the music rooms, the art and craft rooms, the AVA rooms, the library, even the HODs' and teachers' rooms, where the familiar faces of some teachers can be found, even today - Mrs. W.H. Lee, Mrs. Serene Tay, Ms. Goh, Ms. Julie Chua ... the one iconic face missing being Mrs. Poulier's.
Maybe it's time I paid it a visit, my alma mater where I'd spent my years of golden youth, armed with a camera.
But I'm afraid a visit now would completely disintegrate the already yellowing, already faint, and already crumbling memories I have of it.
When I left its sheltering walls, I never did go with fearlessness.
Sorry, PLMGS.
The carpark where cars and school buses dropped hundreds of little girls in blue and white uniforms with school-regulated page-boy bobs off, in which the entire school gathered for National Day celebrations, and did the dumb Great Singapore Workout.
The school hall where little girls gathered weekly for chapel, and, for three years, assembled daily to sing the national and school anthems, recite the national pledge, and bow their heads in prayer.
The large green field shared between sister schools, around which little girls ran and where they played captain ball, and on which the entire school had gathered into four teams - Archer (red), Chew (blue), Dodsworth (yellow), and Lee (green) - for annual Sports Days.
The basketball courts where little girls played netball and other games.
The neatly trimmed ixora plants in front of the canteen from whose branches little girls plucked red star-like flowers to suck, and taught other little girls to do so.
The canteen by whose drains little girls had squatted brushing their teeth after recess; the canteen that housed six food stores in front of which little girls obediently formed queues to buy food; the canteen in which little girls sat in two lines along each side of long rectangular tables on wooden benches chatting, giggling, and sharing food; the canteen around which concrete pavements found little girls sitting in circles playing five stones.
The wide space by the side of the canteen where little girls squealed and sprinted, playing catch and hopscotch and zero-point.
The courtyard in which sat a balancing beam on which little girls balanced, playing Scissors-Paper-Stone (the loser had to jump off).
The bookshop that sold cute and sometimes fruity-smelly erasers and colorful stacks of stickers.
The quadrangle where the iron-wrought skeleton of the pumpkin carriage from the operetta, Cinderelle, had been displayed one year when the school had opened in the night for Mid-Autumn celebrations; the quadrangle in which had a little pond with a little curved bridge that had been crossed for millions of times because its novelty never did wear off, and a pavilion where little girls gathered to gossip and talk.
The pond in the Eco-garden that little girls crossed to visit the nasty school rooster, and around which little girls walked to pluck and crush the sticky fragrant blades of lemon grass.
The stairs on which yellow lines had been painted right in the middle to regulate the flow of girls marching up and down, class by class - Faith, Gentleness, Humility, Joy, Kindness, Love, Patience, and Sincerity - little girls in twos, each one holding her partner's hand; the staircases below which homed little study corners.
The classrooms, the ballet room, the music rooms, the art and craft rooms, the AVA rooms, the library, even the HODs' and teachers' rooms, where the familiar faces of some teachers can be found, even today - Mrs. W.H. Lee, Mrs. Serene Tay, Ms. Goh, Ms. Julie Chua ... the one iconic face missing being Mrs. Poulier's.
Maybe it's time I paid it a visit, my alma mater where I'd spent my years of golden youth, armed with a camera.
But I'm afraid a visit now would completely disintegrate the already yellowing, already faint, and already crumbling memories I have of it.
When I left its sheltering walls, I never did go with fearlessness.
Sorry, PLMGS.
posted by s at 05:50
3 Comments:
you neglected to mention the horrible corner room occupied by the scary woman also known as the dentist - whose red clipboard never failed to send little girls into a state of mild shock.
i think there were more than 6 stalls in the canteen... 8 perhaps.
and the lovely science labs on the top floor, supposedly haunted.
btw, have you any idea what happened to mrs poulier? i had an odd flashback of her just several days ago. this is strange.
i have a strange urge to go re-visit too. perhaps we can go together? it would certainly be odd... not knowing you, and not knowing what to expect of PL now.
the consolation of not having to work (yet) might be that we'd definitely get to see the teachers at work.
i haven't revisited in more than a decade now. 13 yrs and counting.
sure - the more the merrier. i think i would be a little anxious visiting the school on my own.
and, Mrs. Poulier was still teaching in 1995; i'm not sure which year she retired though.
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