I went to the same Catholic school for the whole six years of my elementary education. I began my first grade when I was still 5 years old. At that time, usually kids of 6 years old would be admitted. Lucky, my school was an exception. I don’t remember much about the admission interview, except that I was asked of calculating 4 + 4. I remember that my hands were hanged at the edge of the desk of the examiner, and I kinda counted four figures on each hand and got the answer. Anyway, I got in.
The school was about 15 minutes away from home on foot. At the very beginning of first grade, my dad did put me on a school bus. However, it didn’t last long, cuz that wasn’t really a school bus officially, but a private white van running by someone to pick up and drop kids in various schools in the district to make money. So, in spite of getting up early enough to catch the van and should be at school on time, as the driver had to take kids to various school, I sometimes got drop at my school in the last minute, my parent found that out and it became a waste of money on such service. So, my dad began taking me to school and picking me up afterschool for the first 2 years of my elementary school. I think I was able to go by myself some times during my third grade when I was 8 or 9 years old. At that time, there wasn’t stringent rule that kids have to be accompanied by adults below a certain age either on street or at home. So, there was more freedom and flexibility for us and let us to be more independent while growing up.
My elementary school was for boys only and the classes were large comparing with the current classes. I remember that there were 55 students in my first grade class, 58 in my second grade, and stayed above 50 all the way to sixth grades. My school was half-day school with 6 classes for each grade. The naming of the classes was like 1D, 2C, 3E, etc. The number referred to the grade and the alphabet was the class. Class A, B, C are all morning school and D, E, F were in afternoon school. So, we took turn each year, like I was in 1D, 2C, 3D, 4A, 5E, and 6B. So, I had the chance to get up early and late for different school years.
I can’t recall much about my school life in elementary school, These are some random items that I could remember:
- My class master during my first grade is Miss Ko who taught us English. She was ruthless and the whole class scared of her. She liked to scold students and punished them like telling them to grab their ears while standing up. She also like to punish the whole class to write statement like “I will not talk or make notice in the class in future” 100 times. The only time that I pissed in my pant was during her class when I was too scare to raise my hand to go restroom while she was scolding the whole class. I just pissed!
- Miss. Ko had an older sister who also taught in our school. I remember that a young handsome Math teacher came in during my third grade and left a year later. There were rumor that the older Miss. Ko and that Math teacher got marry soon after.
- I was more or less considered as a shy person in most of elementary school years, never been any kind of leader or focal point voluntarily. However, I was named the chief of the class in my second grade for being the student got least marked for discipline issue during the first few months or so. Being a chief of the class didn’t mean much. Yes, I got a badge, but my role was mostly as the representative picking up exercise booklets and distributing tests in the class. Also, marking number of students who didn’t behave during class breaks for the teacher, nothing fancy. There were two such students (one chief, one vice-chief) in each class from first to fourth grade. In fifth and sixth grade, there were 6 (2 chiefs and 4 vice-chiefs) in each class, just don’t ask me why there’s such structure. I was vice-chief in my fifth grade, but I don’t’ remember anything about it.
- There was no cellphone back then, I don’t start calling my classmate to chitchat until my fourth grade, just talking about silly stuffs I guess.
- I started to learn about money when I was in my first grade. At that time, Coca Cola had conducted promotion with yo-yos, that actually happened every few years. I don’t remember the details, but I guessed you could get a yo-yo by submitting a seal of the bottle cover and pay few dollars. I asked my dad for a $5 yo-yo, but my dad turned me down reluctantly. That was something I still remember, perhaps because I shouldn’t be given a toy for doing nothing. Also, it might be because it was considered to be expensive. Back then, a bottle of Coke costs around 50 cents more or less. I didn’t know how much my dad was making, but we were not rich that’s for sure. Toy was not a priority anyway.
- If I want something, I had to do well in school (usually with good overall averages in seasonal exams, not simple weekly test or something) to earn that with effort. I remember that the ultimate toy that I wanted in my second grade was a big plastic shuffle. I still remember the handle was blue, the middle was yellow and the tip itself was orange. I couldn’t remember the price, but I was looking forward to ask my dad to buy me that if I could do well in the final exam without and failed course. At the end, I got it.
- My dad started to give me pocket money in my second grade, $1 a day. I remember the first time I spent my pocket money was at my school’s snack counter to get a cup of grade juice that cost 20 cents. It was nice cold drink down my throat after running around in recess. My dad didn’t clearly tell me why I was given pocket money and how should I spend it. I usually didn’t spend that on soda or snack. Rather, I saved them up to buy stuffs that I like, like stickers with Japanese Robot characters of cartoon series, or snacks that come with toys. I usually visited those stores that carried those goods after school. There were no store on the shortest route from school to my home, but I would take some out of the way routes which would involve walking uphill in order to visit those stores.
- Also, I would have to hide my purchases from my parents. Small stuffs were easy, but hiding magazine and comic books would be a bit difficult. However, for some unknown reasons, perhaps through the trust from my parents, they never really dug into my collection and scolded me for spending money on them. Even though it shouldn’t be too hard to spot my collection considering there were paper boxes or all sizes on my bed that contain cassettes, comic books and magazines. If they wanna check, sure they would find them, but they just never did. I thanked for their trust, but didn’t regret too much for spending money that way. Cuz, looking back, it was a way of growing up for me, namely, able to develop certain interests and making collection of things. Certainly, I might make different choice now….
- I first scared of my own death when I was in second grade. Looking back it was quite silly but I did worry about dying back then. It was a result of what I had been told in a health class in school about the hazard of auto-emission which would kill human. For unknown stupid reason, I was drawn to smell the emission of cars and didn’t find it repulsive at all. When I was playing outside my home, if there was any vehicle coming around, I would smell the emission. Certainly, that didn’t take too long, but as soon as I learnt about the hazard from school. I thought I would die in few years. I’m sure I stopped smelling those emission right the way, even held my breath and ran away from emission as quick as I could, I don’t remember how long did I have that worriness, but certainly that thought existed in my mind at that time.
- Academically, I think I did okay throughout my elementary school years. Never been the top of the class, mostly stayed in the top twenty I would say. No class that I was particularly like or dislike, except Art class which was my favorite. Perhaps, drawing/painting was my hobby back then, just loved visual art.
- Socially, I had good friends, I was no loner by any mean.
I would say that my elementary school life was pleasant overall while looking back.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Clothes
Growing up in a frugal family, we don’t really have much spare money to get fancy clothes. Besides school uniforms, most of the clothes that I’d back in my childhood were mostly for warmth rather than look. When I was in k-school and in primary school, most of my clothes were coming from two sources. They were either bought from some stalls in dry good market or given to me from my aunt who used to take some factory pants home to do some touch up before going to packaging and shipping.
I would say the first time that I had right to really choose what clothes to buy was back in third grade before Chinese New Year that we were supposed to buy new clothes for the new year. I was taken to the dry good market by my mom and selected a full set of dark blue sport jacket and pant, both of which with two white stripes running from neck down the ankles. Since my favorite color back then was blue, so I basically bought the same kind of clothes for the next three Chinese New Years in a row. They were all in blue as well.
In order to save money on clothes, we were taught to buy clothes of bigger size. I remember the craziest example was my pair of white sneakers which had been bought in my second grade, they were too big back then that my parent stuff some cotton at the front of the shoe inside to make that fit. Amazingly, as I only wore the shoes on the day with P.E. classes, they last till I was in sixth grade! That’s how we save money back then.
My first knowledge of brand names came when I was in my fourth grade. As my school allowed students to wear sneakers, so black leather shoes were not mandatory, students were able to buy all kinds of sneakers to wear, some of them treat that as a way to show their personality or wealth. That was then I first heard of brands like Adidas and Puma from other students. I wasn’t sure why, somehow I got my dad to buy me my first pair of brand name sneaker, a pair of blue Puma with white stripe on my fourth grade. Then, I got another pair of brown Adidas on my fifth grade after the Puma was worn out. Back then, I don’t have many pair of shoes: just a pair of sneakers, and flippers. That’s about it. That’s why shoes just worn out quickly. In subsequent years, I think I got a pair of old white Puma tennis school from my cousin, and most other shoes were not really any great brand names, maybe a pair of Lotto, and a pair of casual Yasaki shoes. That’s all that I remember.
Clothing wise, I don’t think I had ever really get into any serious brand at all. Just casual clothes that I bought in some night-market style clothing stores which were ‘rejects’ from exports. Nonetheless, I was largely fine with them. Cuz, I’ve never been into fashion. Just couldn’t afford them and neither has interest in them. I would say that pretty much summed up my memory about clothes and shoes up to my age of 18.
I would say the first time that I had right to really choose what clothes to buy was back in third grade before Chinese New Year that we were supposed to buy new clothes for the new year. I was taken to the dry good market by my mom and selected a full set of dark blue sport jacket and pant, both of which with two white stripes running from neck down the ankles. Since my favorite color back then was blue, so I basically bought the same kind of clothes for the next three Chinese New Years in a row. They were all in blue as well.
In order to save money on clothes, we were taught to buy clothes of bigger size. I remember the craziest example was my pair of white sneakers which had been bought in my second grade, they were too big back then that my parent stuff some cotton at the front of the shoe inside to make that fit. Amazingly, as I only wore the shoes on the day with P.E. classes, they last till I was in sixth grade! That’s how we save money back then.
My first knowledge of brand names came when I was in my fourth grade. As my school allowed students to wear sneakers, so black leather shoes were not mandatory, students were able to buy all kinds of sneakers to wear, some of them treat that as a way to show their personality or wealth. That was then I first heard of brands like Adidas and Puma from other students. I wasn’t sure why, somehow I got my dad to buy me my first pair of brand name sneaker, a pair of blue Puma with white stripe on my fourth grade. Then, I got another pair of brown Adidas on my fifth grade after the Puma was worn out. Back then, I don’t have many pair of shoes: just a pair of sneakers, and flippers. That’s about it. That’s why shoes just worn out quickly. In subsequent years, I think I got a pair of old white Puma tennis school from my cousin, and most other shoes were not really any great brand names, maybe a pair of Lotto, and a pair of casual Yasaki shoes. That’s all that I remember.
Clothing wise, I don’t think I had ever really get into any serious brand at all. Just casual clothes that I bought in some night-market style clothing stores which were ‘rejects’ from exports. Nonetheless, I was largely fine with them. Cuz, I’ve never been into fashion. Just couldn’t afford them and neither has interest in them. I would say that pretty much summed up my memory about clothes and shoes up to my age of 18.
Monday, July 19, 2010
Childhood and my residential surroundings
In the first perhaps 15-16 years of my life, I was living in a dormitory housing complex of my father’s employer – University of Hong Kong. It was located in on a narrow steep road in Western district on Hong Kong Island. That place back then has 3 buildings with 6 floors each. Each floor has four apartments and no evaluator. We lived on the ground floor for few years and moved to second floor in my fourth grade. Before the surrounding places got new constructions, there was a private road with a cul-de-sac in front of our 3 buildings. Behind and beside our buildings, there were green hills with tall trees and bushes. Most of the people living in the complex there were poor as the complex itself was a form of subsidized housing for low-grade workers of the university, kids lived there were more or less with similar economic status without many toys to play with. There was a community culture that kids just played with each other. The one way private street, the green woods, offered us a relatively safe and free surroundings to play and explore.
We would go to the woods to catch insects like grasshoppers, dragronflies, to grow plants like tomato, to climb trees, and all those ‘wild’ things. By doing all of such, we were able to learn quite a bit about nature. Such as what plants are poison, what could cause rashes on skin, and what could make us itchy. We learned some behavior of bugs, what bite and what doesn’t. We saw how bugs mated. We saw wild fruits grew and ripen (there were papaya trees in the woods). There was a small house up in the hill that someone put blackboard and a ping-pong table in there. So, we could draw on blackboard to pretend to be teacher. We played ping-pong, not just learning the skills, but also how to obey rules to take terms and played with each other. There was a also a basketball ring at the cul-de-sac. We learned to shoot hoops and used the surrounding the play football as well. The private street also let us to play badminton, jumping ropes, or even playing hide and seek. We raced there among kids ourselves, played lantern on Mid-Autumn festival there, and many childhood group games as well. Space is just important for kids to grow. I was so glad that the community culture and surrounding environment allow me to have such childhood. Certainly, there were bruises, scars, and tears along the way, but I wouldn’t trade my childhood for anything else.
Certainly, as I grew older into my high school, my life changed as things progressed. I turned into a bit introvert. I was busy with studies. Also, the green woods next to our building were turning into a construction site to build 2 more buildings for the whole dormitory complex. I wouldn’t able to see sunset from neither the balcony of our apartment or from the rooftop of our building. The ping-pong house and the basketball rim were gone. Things just changed. As I left Hong Kong for studying aboard after I finished my matriculation courses in my secondary school, I never lived there anymore.
Even after I came back to Hong Kong afterwards, I was living in another place since then. At that time, my dad and sister were still lived there for a few years. I visited my dad and sisters after works few days a week for dinner back then. But the place became quite foreign to me, the apartment was very messy like a slum inside. The surrounding of the complex had changed as well. There were tall buildings behind and not far in front of our buildings. Some tall trees were gone. Also, as people were moving out, the feeling that I’d about the place just different. But, anyway, it had been my home before. Later on, with my dad’s retirement, a new apartment was bought about 7 minutes away on another street in the district. My relationship with that dormitory complex became a truly history to me.
Comparing to my wife, who had moved from residence to another over the years during her childhood, I felt so lucky to live in the same place all through mine. It was just a quiet and safe place to be in for kids. A relatively tight community with close to none commercial activities around, it was quite a unique place to grow up in.
We would go to the woods to catch insects like grasshoppers, dragronflies, to grow plants like tomato, to climb trees, and all those ‘wild’ things. By doing all of such, we were able to learn quite a bit about nature. Such as what plants are poison, what could cause rashes on skin, and what could make us itchy. We learned some behavior of bugs, what bite and what doesn’t. We saw how bugs mated. We saw wild fruits grew and ripen (there were papaya trees in the woods). There was a small house up in the hill that someone put blackboard and a ping-pong table in there. So, we could draw on blackboard to pretend to be teacher. We played ping-pong, not just learning the skills, but also how to obey rules to take terms and played with each other. There was a also a basketball ring at the cul-de-sac. We learned to shoot hoops and used the surrounding the play football as well. The private street also let us to play badminton, jumping ropes, or even playing hide and seek. We raced there among kids ourselves, played lantern on Mid-Autumn festival there, and many childhood group games as well. Space is just important for kids to grow. I was so glad that the community culture and surrounding environment allow me to have such childhood. Certainly, there were bruises, scars, and tears along the way, but I wouldn’t trade my childhood for anything else.
Certainly, as I grew older into my high school, my life changed as things progressed. I turned into a bit introvert. I was busy with studies. Also, the green woods next to our building were turning into a construction site to build 2 more buildings for the whole dormitory complex. I wouldn’t able to see sunset from neither the balcony of our apartment or from the rooftop of our building. The ping-pong house and the basketball rim were gone. Things just changed. As I left Hong Kong for studying aboard after I finished my matriculation courses in my secondary school, I never lived there anymore.
Even after I came back to Hong Kong afterwards, I was living in another place since then. At that time, my dad and sister were still lived there for a few years. I visited my dad and sisters after works few days a week for dinner back then. But the place became quite foreign to me, the apartment was very messy like a slum inside. The surrounding of the complex had changed as well. There were tall buildings behind and not far in front of our buildings. Some tall trees were gone. Also, as people were moving out, the feeling that I’d about the place just different. But, anyway, it had been my home before. Later on, with my dad’s retirement, a new apartment was bought about 7 minutes away on another street in the district. My relationship with that dormitory complex became a truly history to me.
Comparing to my wife, who had moved from residence to another over the years during her childhood, I felt so lucky to live in the same place all through mine. It was just a quiet and safe place to be in for kids. A relatively tight community with close to none commercial activities around, it was quite a unique place to grow up in.
Number 2
When I was a kid, my favorite number is 2. I couldn’t explain that but being number 1 was never my goal or something that I aspire to do. Even when I watch those Japanese animation series, particularly those with a teams of five (for some strange reason, many of them are very similar – a handsome hero, an off-beat cool guy, a hot girl, a geeky boy, and a fat dude), I always like the number 2 good guy (in the case the off-beat cool dude) than the number one hero. That was obviously shown when I played with other kids in the neighborhood with games. I just like to be the number 2.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Hospital Experience 2
During the first semester of my first high school year, I was 11 then, had an accident that required hospital stay. It happened at the end of lunch break that I was tripped accidentally in the crowded hallway next to classrooms and hit the concrete floor hard. Right after I slowly got up from the fall, I felt a serious pain on my left palm. I guess it was because my left hand smacked on the floor really hard, though the pain was so intense that I thought my left hand was broken, it retreated quite fast surprisingly. On the contrary, I felt numbness on the right elbow. It wasn’t painful at first, but a loss of strength to move on its own. I then tried to move my right forearm while gripped by my still-sore left hand, I felt a ‘deeper’ pain inside my right elbow. I was sitting in my seat for the first class in the afternoon, but the pain simply put me off attention of what was going on in the class. After 10-15 minutes or so without any improvement, I couldn’t help but raise my left hand and told my teacher that I had an accident before the class and needed to take go to report that to the school admin office. After I told the staff there what was going on, I was driven to hospital by a priest of my Catholic high school in his car.
Once I got there after a ten minute rather subdue ride in the car, I was going through the usual at the hospital: admission, x-ray, settle in patient’s ward, and my dad was contacted. I remember the first thing I asked my dad after he had arrived the hospital was where my school bag was and he told me that he picked that up from the school already. I was put in a temp plaster cast to hold my right arm at a 90 degree. My left wrist was connected to a bottle of sugar i.v. and left in bed till the day got dark.
My surgery was scheduled to take place after 11 something at night. I was not allowed to eat or even drink anything before surgery. By the time I was on the way rolling in the surgery room, a nurse was asking how I was feeling. I told her that I was fine, but my voice was so ‘low’ that she was questioning if I was really alright. I struggled to tell her that I had not drunk anything in the last 12 hours. She then dropped fill drops of water in my mouth with a syringe and that was really the sweetest water I had ever tasted in my life. Well, to these days, I still not sure if that was water or glucose water which was supposed to be sweet. Then, I passed out on the surgery bed and everything went dark for me….
Well, I struggled to lift my eyelids to see what’s going on. It was already in late morning. I felt very weak and tired. I couldn’t feel my body below my neck at the beginning though I was able to see things around me. Then, I looked down, my right arm was in plaster case with a tube coming out from the heavy bandages to a bottle hanging on the right side of my bed. I could barely feel something from my right hand fingers. After a while, I regain some strength on my left arm and my legs. I remember I felt cold all over my body, though I was in blanket. Later, lunch time started, but I couldn’t move much and didn’t feel hunger for eating. Still, I ate something, didn’t remember what I ate and whether I was fed or ate myself with my left hand.
I had stayed in the hospital for 4 days. I don’t remember too much about the whole experience except two things.
I was in a big patient ward, there was a man in his late twenties or in early thirty with mustache who had similar injury as myself. Certainly, I’m no doctor and didn’t know what exactly his injury was, cuz I’d never talked to him as our beds were far apart. The reason why I noticed him was because we had to take the same medicine for the same frequency – every six hours (6am, 12noon, 6pm, midnight). It was a transparent liquid that got injected to my veins through i.v. connection. It was painful during the injection but it usually last 10 minutes or so before the pain receded. That man in the bed opposite mine cried for pain few times during the injections. I still remember that his brother and a woman who could be his wife/girlfriend/sister (not sure) even stayed behind the visiting hours to comfort him once. I remembered that I didn’t cry at all and was kinda proud of myself that I was able to withstand the pain unlike that grown man, just a silly thought of a boy.
The second thing that I remembered is also related to that painful injection. It happened on the third day in hospital. After taking the 6pm shot, I didn’t know if it was because that nurse that gave me injection was having a bad mood or in a rush, she rushed the injection and simply wanna get that done quick. It caused a much greater pain than usual and the pain didn’t recede as it supposed to be. The worst was that I could see my blood was running up the i.v. tube for almost a foot long from my left forearm. I just had to call someone, someone to pay attention. Fortunately, another nurse walked by and attended my call. She sat at my bedside and began slowly massage my left forearm, gently rubbing down my swollen vein for almost 20 minutes. That was really helpful and got my pain receded at the end. I can’t recall what she looked like, but her gently massage was certainly memorable even in these days. Afterwards, I remembered I begged the doctor to give me oral medicine instead of that injection after that incident, and thank God that he was surprisingly okayed my request. I then thought that if such pill exists, why the hell I had to gone through those painful injections then? Anyway, I’d never got that answer.
On Day 4, I was discharged from the hospital and got transported to a ‘recovery’ center on an ambulance.
Once I got there after a ten minute rather subdue ride in the car, I was going through the usual at the hospital: admission, x-ray, settle in patient’s ward, and my dad was contacted. I remember the first thing I asked my dad after he had arrived the hospital was where my school bag was and he told me that he picked that up from the school already. I was put in a temp plaster cast to hold my right arm at a 90 degree. My left wrist was connected to a bottle of sugar i.v. and left in bed till the day got dark.
My surgery was scheduled to take place after 11 something at night. I was not allowed to eat or even drink anything before surgery. By the time I was on the way rolling in the surgery room, a nurse was asking how I was feeling. I told her that I was fine, but my voice was so ‘low’ that she was questioning if I was really alright. I struggled to tell her that I had not drunk anything in the last 12 hours. She then dropped fill drops of water in my mouth with a syringe and that was really the sweetest water I had ever tasted in my life. Well, to these days, I still not sure if that was water or glucose water which was supposed to be sweet. Then, I passed out on the surgery bed and everything went dark for me….
Well, I struggled to lift my eyelids to see what’s going on. It was already in late morning. I felt very weak and tired. I couldn’t feel my body below my neck at the beginning though I was able to see things around me. Then, I looked down, my right arm was in plaster case with a tube coming out from the heavy bandages to a bottle hanging on the right side of my bed. I could barely feel something from my right hand fingers. After a while, I regain some strength on my left arm and my legs. I remember I felt cold all over my body, though I was in blanket. Later, lunch time started, but I couldn’t move much and didn’t feel hunger for eating. Still, I ate something, didn’t remember what I ate and whether I was fed or ate myself with my left hand.
I had stayed in the hospital for 4 days. I don’t remember too much about the whole experience except two things.
I was in a big patient ward, there was a man in his late twenties or in early thirty with mustache who had similar injury as myself. Certainly, I’m no doctor and didn’t know what exactly his injury was, cuz I’d never talked to him as our beds were far apart. The reason why I noticed him was because we had to take the same medicine for the same frequency – every six hours (6am, 12noon, 6pm, midnight). It was a transparent liquid that got injected to my veins through i.v. connection. It was painful during the injection but it usually last 10 minutes or so before the pain receded. That man in the bed opposite mine cried for pain few times during the injections. I still remember that his brother and a woman who could be his wife/girlfriend/sister (not sure) even stayed behind the visiting hours to comfort him once. I remembered that I didn’t cry at all and was kinda proud of myself that I was able to withstand the pain unlike that grown man, just a silly thought of a boy.
The second thing that I remembered is also related to that painful injection. It happened on the third day in hospital. After taking the 6pm shot, I didn’t know if it was because that nurse that gave me injection was having a bad mood or in a rush, she rushed the injection and simply wanna get that done quick. It caused a much greater pain than usual and the pain didn’t recede as it supposed to be. The worst was that I could see my blood was running up the i.v. tube for almost a foot long from my left forearm. I just had to call someone, someone to pay attention. Fortunately, another nurse walked by and attended my call. She sat at my bedside and began slowly massage my left forearm, gently rubbing down my swollen vein for almost 20 minutes. That was really helpful and got my pain receded at the end. I can’t recall what she looked like, but her gently massage was certainly memorable even in these days. Afterwards, I remembered I begged the doctor to give me oral medicine instead of that injection after that incident, and thank God that he was surprisingly okayed my request. I then thought that if such pill exists, why the hell I had to gone through those painful injections then? Anyway, I’d never got that answer.
On Day 4, I was discharged from the hospital and got transported to a ‘recovery’ center on an ambulance.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Hospital Experience 1
My first hospital experience took place when I was still in K school. I only remember that was because my pee was not normal. Namely, its color wasn't transparent or yellow, but looked like cranberry juice. I didn’t feel any pain or any discomfort. My parents somehow discovered such symptom and took me to see doctor at a clinic affiliated with my dad’s employer. Then, I was sent to hospital for few days, went through a surgery that I didn’t recall any discomfort before or after. Afterwards, I was discharged and went back home. Life was then resumed back to normal. Certainly, the color of my pee was no longer like cranberry juice again.
As far as I remember, I only remember few tip bits about the whole experience:
1. I remember that I got few new toys when I was in hospital bed. I don’t recall that I’d ever got few new toys in such a short period of time. One of the toys was some wooden widgets with holes and poles, etc that I could use to construct things.
2. I remember the first time of inhaling an anaesthetic, I just passed out in a snap after counting to ten along with the nurse while I looked up to her masked face under the bright light in surgery room.
3. I remember the first time I ate jello and ice-cream together as dessert in the hospital.
4. Lastly, the plastic ‘duck’ that was used for peeing in bed was new to me too.
To these days, I still don’t know what the exact cause of the problem was. I’ve never read the hospital discharge records. Well, that’s fine with me as I was 100% recovered.
As far as I remember, I only remember few tip bits about the whole experience:
1. I remember that I got few new toys when I was in hospital bed. I don’t recall that I’d ever got few new toys in such a short period of time. One of the toys was some wooden widgets with holes and poles, etc that I could use to construct things.
2. I remember the first time of inhaling an anaesthetic, I just passed out in a snap after counting to ten along with the nurse while I looked up to her masked face under the bright light in surgery room.
3. I remember the first time I ate jello and ice-cream together as dessert in the hospital.
4. Lastly, the plastic ‘duck’ that was used for peeing in bed was new to me too.
To these days, I still don’t know what the exact cause of the problem was. I’ve never read the hospital discharge records. Well, that’s fine with me as I was 100% recovered.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Kindergarten
I didn’t go to nursery school nor K1 back then. Instead, I hopped into K2 when I was 3 years old and stay in the same kindergarten for 2 years before moving to primary school.
Regarding my memory in K-school, I still remember bit and pieces of how my first day went. I had to take school van to go to that Catholic K-school which was located few miles away from my home. I was taken by my dad to wait for the school van at the gate of where we leave which was a complex of subsidized housing of my dad’s employer. At that time, I was in white school uniform with a red schoolbag. I had no idea where I was going and what. The reason why I still can remember that today was because I was put on the school van by my dad and being left there. Then, the van left. I remember that I look back to see my dad waving me and I just cried out loud. I tried to stand up and looked back but the van was moving down the steep road quick and made a left turn. I couldn’t see my dad anymore and was left in a strange vehicle with few other kids and didn’t know where we were heading. It must be a terrified ride in my early life.
Once the van stopped, I got off the van with many other kids of my age, it was probably the first time I saw many others of my age, dressed a like in the same premise. I remember that I looked up to the stairs to the K-school which was built up on a hill with 2 compounds. Certainly, I remember that I wasn’t crying when I arrived there.
I don’t remember much of my K-School life there. I only remember few bits and pieces:
Sister Tam who had taken care of me very well. She even visited my home and met my parent.
I could recite few prayers that I learned back then word by word even these days.
The K-school is co-ed. I remember that there was a girl with 2 pony tails who loved to imitate what I did and followed me around. I found that to be annoying and went to wait in line to go to the boys’ room. She queued behind me but was pulled away by the adults to the line for girls’ room.
There was a white porcelain Holy Mary statue outside the school compound.
Other than the above, not much else.
I think I had revisited my K-school in my second year in secondary school. I don’t remember why I went there. I only remember that happened on a non-school day as there were no kids around. I tried to sit on a chair there and found that it was so small.
My last memory about my K-school was that Sister Tam died when I was in my third or fourth year in secondary school. At that time, I went to supplementary English courses in the evening at a Catholic school nearby. I learned of her dead on a noticeboard there at the staircase.
The K-school was closed. I don’t remember exactly when that happened. The compounds are still there, they had been converted and are now being run as retirement home for the elderly.
Regarding my memory in K-school, I still remember bit and pieces of how my first day went. I had to take school van to go to that Catholic K-school which was located few miles away from my home. I was taken by my dad to wait for the school van at the gate of where we leave which was a complex of subsidized housing of my dad’s employer. At that time, I was in white school uniform with a red schoolbag. I had no idea where I was going and what. The reason why I still can remember that today was because I was put on the school van by my dad and being left there. Then, the van left. I remember that I look back to see my dad waving me and I just cried out loud. I tried to stand up and looked back but the van was moving down the steep road quick and made a left turn. I couldn’t see my dad anymore and was left in a strange vehicle with few other kids and didn’t know where we were heading. It must be a terrified ride in my early life.
Once the van stopped, I got off the van with many other kids of my age, it was probably the first time I saw many others of my age, dressed a like in the same premise. I remember that I looked up to the stairs to the K-school which was built up on a hill with 2 compounds. Certainly, I remember that I wasn’t crying when I arrived there.
I don’t remember much of my K-School life there. I only remember few bits and pieces:
Sister Tam who had taken care of me very well. She even visited my home and met my parent.
I could recite few prayers that I learned back then word by word even these days.
The K-school is co-ed. I remember that there was a girl with 2 pony tails who loved to imitate what I did and followed me around. I found that to be annoying and went to wait in line to go to the boys’ room. She queued behind me but was pulled away by the adults to the line for girls’ room.
There was a white porcelain Holy Mary statue outside the school compound.
Other than the above, not much else.
I think I had revisited my K-school in my second year in secondary school. I don’t remember why I went there. I only remember that happened on a non-school day as there were no kids around. I tried to sit on a chair there and found that it was so small.
My last memory about my K-school was that Sister Tam died when I was in my third or fourth year in secondary school. At that time, I went to supplementary English courses in the evening at a Catholic school nearby. I learned of her dead on a noticeboard there at the staircase.
The K-school was closed. I don’t remember exactly when that happened. The compounds are still there, they had been converted and are now being run as retirement home for the elderly.
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