DORREEN CHAN

Prose non-fiction: Autobiography of my eyes ‘‘I Have Such Quiet Eyes’’ (Classroom Lesson)

I am the windows of soul. I have a partner in crime, an oval-shaped spectacles. I’ve lived for 21 years, but my master has 0 year of teaching experience.

Today, through me, the 2 pupils, I see the 35 little souls of 3W pupils, excluding 1 absentee. The zooming in of the words of ‘‘School Based Experience phase three’’ to the words of ‘‘Unit 3 A Yucky Table Tennis Game’’, the vision of a 30-minutes English language art lesson was reflected through the reflection of my partner.

It is a typical national-type Chinese primary school classroom, 4 dark brown doors, 2 light brown notice boards, 4 round fans, 2 rectangular cupboards and 4 square windows. Skimming and scanning the classroom, the balls inside me was attracted to the seating arrangement. Before this, for your information, I open and close my lids for roughly 20 times a minute. Opening and closing myself, realising male pupils and female pupils, one by one sitting side by side, sharing 9 tables and 9 chairs, in the form of C-shaped layout. In other words, 36 heterogeneous pupils, distributed evenly in 4 C-shaped seating layouts. Like the 4Cs, creativity, critical thinking, collaboration and communication not only portrayed through the classroom layout, but also throughout the 30-minutes lesson by an Indian, female teacher named Santra. Since my master was too shy to interview madam’s age, I opinionate that she is entering middle age based on my 21 years of living experiences.

Under my lashes, a projection of a series of language art activities were going on:

First, a few pupils were randomly called to state five activities after reading the first two pages of the Unit 3 in the textbook that are page 31 and page 32. Then, Madam Santra highlighted the vocabularies by asking the same participants to paste five vocabulary strips on the white board. She also wrote the vocabularies that were mentioned by her pupils but were not listed in the five vocabulary strips.    

Second, all pupils listened to a radio playing the audio tape of the dialogues that is the same as in the pages 31 and 32 of the pupils’ textbook. Teacher Santra played the audio again so that pupils can intimate the intonation, pitch, and tone used. Later, she divided the class into two groups and they took turn to read the dialogues with full expression. After finished reading the dialogues, the two groups of 18 and 17 pupils respectively were further divided into 12 groups of 3 to practise reading the dialogues as to ensure that they were not reading in monotone.

Third, two groups were called out to read out loud and to role-play the dialogues with full expression of intonation, pitch and tone.

Forth, worksheets were given to all of the pupils.

That’s the four activities playing in front of me then it reached my master's mind

Anyway, most of the time, Madam Santra was humour in approaching, guiding and facilitating pupils. Observing the responses of each pupil, I was appealed to a pupil smiling broadly with one tooth missing. Oh, such scene entertained my master a lot! I can feel that my friend, mouth was curving up like the moon in the sky.

My master always thanks me for allowing her to admire the beautiful due of this world’s mundane. At this moment, my master pushed my partner up and nodded her head. She thanked me again for giving her the chance to witness the beauty of teaching and learning process.

Yes, I’m quite but I’m seeing aloud in my master’s mind.

Prose fiction: Short story ''Once Upon A Time'' (School activity - Storytelling)

'‘A very good morning to all. Once upon a time, there was a tortoise.’’, loud and clear, from Eunice Chan Yuin Shin, a Year 6 pupil, during assembly, as she won the second place in the Kinta Utara District English Storytelling Competition for SJK(C) Wan Hwa 1.

Her ‘‘once upon a time’’ reminded of my ‘‘once upon a time’’, at the similar spot, on the same stage, under the unchanged roof, as my alma mater, SJK(C) Wan Hwa 2 once combined with SJK(C) Wan Hwa 1. The only difference between the little girl and the old me was, she has a pony tail and I had short, thick hair, like Jing-Mei in the Two Kinds, failed to become the Chinese Shirley Temple.

Last time, upholded teacher’s expectations and beholded by the judges, slowly but proudly presented the curtsy: right foot pointed backward, touched the empty space behind me, followed by left foot, stood straight and looked at the hundred pairs of eyes down the stage, swept my right hand to the left side of my waist, bended my head forward and bowed to the audience, looked up, smiled, and greeted judges, timekeeper, teachers and friends and then started the "once upon a time" story.

This time, sitting still on the stage, from the perspective of a teacher-to-be, seeing the perseverance that lighted up Eunice's eyes, hearing the confidence that raised the volume of her voice projection, feeling the liveliness of the story’s characters in her facial expressions, gestures and body movements, smelling and tasting the emotions of excitement, sadness, angriness and anxiety in her, then spreading in the air, in me, in teachers and in her friends.

Her eyes like the eagle’s eyes, preying for the audience’ attention. Meanwhile, my eyes was with her but my soul was brought back into the good, old times that I reminisced the memories of storytelling. Like her changing intonations, rising and falling, and her pitches, high and low, my feelings were going up and down, as well as my heart beat.

Before "once upon a time", erm, I mean before a storytelling, as a participant, sitting down there, trying my best to cover and swallow up the uneasiness that gulping up my mind, replaying the script of my story again and again, sweats penetrating from my hands making the script with the folding lines more crumple, tidying my helmet, oh, it actually means my hair, and sometimes peeping on my opponents that sit in the same row with me.

Well, during a story telling, like Eunice did, walking steadily to the stage, standing upright in front of a microphone stand, waiting for the assistant to adjust the mic, taking a deep breath, ‘‘smhhh’’ and "Once upon a time,...".

After the storytelling, gracefully presenting the curtsy again, closing my eyes and enjoying the sound of applause taking over the sound of my heart beat and getting overwhelmed of a sense of relief and satisfaction.

"Thank you, I hope you like my story.", with that, I was back to the reality of assembly. That’s the story of the first day.

Poetry: Modern poem ''One Ringgit Luxury'' (School activity - Supplementary Food Programme)

One ringgit

I’ll scream ice cream

Hundred cents

McDonald’s ice cream?

Nuh-uh, nope!

Thousand pupils

In this canteen

Only sixteen pupils

Under the Supplementary Food Programme

One ringgit luxury

For me

Worth a string of fish balls

For them

Worth for savings or cravings

Oh! A bowl of free happiness

Free them from hungriness

They are warmed and I am melted

It is more than enough

Look at their satisfied spirit

They are rich, such rich, than you and me

That my soul is contented

Thank you

Kids

Class 3W

Storytelling script of Eunice