Students!

I figured it was about time to share some of the pictures that I've taken of my Singaporean students.  All of the pictures you'll see are of my younger students - simply because the older they get, the less they want to have their picture taken.

I work for a school in Singapore called Jan & Elly, which now has three different schools across the island.  We have a good group of teachers, with some Singaporeans, a few Americans, Canadians and a Brit.  I teach children between the ages of 4-12, with the younger ones being cuter and fun but the older students being more interesting and engaging to actually teach.  It's a totally different teaching experience from Korea; in Korea, most students had tremendous difficulty with learning the new language, and many younger students had little or no vocabulary.  Here, even the 4 year old's have some vocabulary, with English being the predominant mother tongue amongst my students.  My oldest students, in what would equate to grade 4, 5, and 6, are obviously fully fluent and quite bright.  In Korea, though my older students were quite lively and bright, they still lacked proper grammar and had difficulty with sentence structure.  In Singapore, for the most part, these kids are fully fluent.  Also, not only are they fully fluent in English, chances are they proficient in at least one other language (whether it is Mandarian, Cantonese, Hokkien, Tamil, Malay, or Korean - talk about the leaders of the future)!    

For the 4-6 range, I teach proper phonics and some simple vocabulary and grammar.  Lack of proper pronunciation is an epidemic in Singapore (with its infamous "Singlish") and parents are very concerned in raising children who speak English properly.  For the grade 1 and 2 classes, I teach creative writing and comprehension.  Finally, for the grade 3-6 students, I occasionally teach creative writing and comprehension, but I mostly teach exam preparation (Singapore adheres to the British system and has a massive nation-wide exam in primary 6 which has tremendous consequences as to where a student will be lucky enough to attend secondary school).

Phonics - 5 years old (and twins).

Phonics - 6 years old.

Phonics - 6 years old.

That's (apparently) me.  Drawn by a  grade 3 student.

The Fall of Singapore

The British marching towards surrender.

I used to think I had a good grasp of world history and I was confident that, in turn, my overall understanding of the world was pretty good.  Then I moved to Asia, and I realized that so much monumental history happened here in the last century that isn't discussed or remembered back home in the west.

Living in Korea and now Singapore, I was introduced to a whole new history.  I used to associate World War II with the European theatre, but after living in Asia for a year and a half and seeing all the monuments and museums, it’s pretty obvious the Pacific Theatre -- as we call it -- is a big deal too.

A recent trip to Changi Museum and Chapel in eastern Singapore proved to be a fascinating introduction to the moving story of the fall of Singapore in 1942.  Long a British colony, Singapore was considered impregnable, a veritable island fortress at the tip of the Malay peninsula.  Singapore was a bastion of the British, surely able to withstand a Japanese army.  It was one thing for the Japanese to take Manchuria, conquering the Chinese and making some noise in the neighbourhood in the process, but it was another matter to beat the supremely advanced British.  Or so they thought.

Concurrently as Japanese bombs dropped on Pearl Harbour, troops were landing on the northern shores of British held Malaya.  Regional British and Indian troops were quickly destroyed, allowing the Japanese to fight their way down the Malayan peninsula, heading to Singapore.  A combination of a battle hardened military, air power, and surprise allowed the Japanese to quickly advance down the Malayan peninsula and capture the entire territory.

From Johor, just a short channel away from Singapore, the Japanese sent infiltrators across to Singapore.  They gathered priceless information on Singapore’s military positions and installations, preparing for a swift surgical attack.

Singapore fell after the Japanese gained air supremacy after dogfights and opened up the beaches for a landing.  With troops landing on the northern shores, artillery raining down from Japanese held Johor, and the island encircled, the allied forces -- and Singaporean civilians -- retreated to a small area in the south east of the island.  Winston Churchill, the British Prime Minister, cabled to say:

 “The honour of the British Empire and of the British Army is at stake. I rely on you to show no mercy to weakness in any form.  With the Russians fighting as they are, and the Americans so stubborn at Luzon, the whole reputation of our country and our race is involved. It is expected that every unit will be brought into close contact with the enemy and fight it out… ”

Despite such rallying calls, there was nothing to be done.  After landing on the island and winning key battles -- such as the heroic defence of Pasir Panjang or Bukit Timah -- the Japanese now controlled much of the water supply in Singapore and the Allies had lost their fuel and ammunition depots.  After a week of fighting, from February 8th until the 15th, The British finally surrendered at the Ford Motor Factory in Singapore.  It was the largest surrender of British military personnel ever, with 80 000 British, Indian, and Australian troops being taken prisoner.  Churchill would later call it the “worst disaster” and “largest capitulation” in British history.

It’s amazing to see the difference in the city, a mere 65 years later.  Besides a few monuments scattered throughout the city, this past of history has been left behind and people have moved on.  I asked a group of three of my sixth grade students if they knew what had happened in World War II: one knew specifics, one had an idea of something vague, and the last couldn’t answer.

Bako National Park

On a bit of a tangent: I’ve come to realize that parks and such are not necessarily enshrined upon a given government’s “to do” list.  Growing up in Canada gave me unintentional bias towards what parks should look like, because of Canada’s fantastically preserved public parks, both national and local.

As luck would have it, Bako National Park in Malaysia was equal parts exotic, well kept, and run down.  I know at least two of the terms contradict each other, but the park’s upkeep showed that it was well taken care of.  At the same time, the parks unrelenting disintegration reminded everyone that it is well deep into the jungle and fighting a structural battle every day.  The entangling vines and hungry monkeys were crawling over each building.  The bearded pigs were chewing all the grass and sniffing in all the garbage bins.  The outdoor camp site area -- you’d have to be Survivorman to sleep out there -- looked as if proboscis monkeys had taken it over by force.

All of these things only contributed to the beauty of the park.  Bako sits on the tip of a peninsula on the northern, and Malaysian, side of Borneo.  The whole point of the mountainous and rain forested tip has been sanctioned to the park, and outside of a few trodden footpaths, the jungle and its creatures have been allowed to thrive.  Mangrove forests -- the first I’ve ever seen -- tangle each beach and protect the delicate jungle from the forces of the sea.

To get there, we took  a public bus north from Kuching towards the coast.  What a beautiful coast it was!  Jungle covered mountains overlooking each end, and a flat coastline running along the water.  Some distance farther across the water would be Vietnam.  We pulled into a small town bisected by a muddy river.  The park couldn’t be reached by bus, so we transferred our bags to a small skiff with an outboard motor.  The town changed with the tides; at high tide, water would reach under the houses and into the yards, but at low tide, the humble homes would sit a few metres above the silt and sand upon stilts.  We set out along the river and then out onto the ocean, the skiff hugging the nearby mangroves for their protection from the waves.

These langurs were reminiscing.

A thirty minute boat ride later, we were twisting through mangrove trees towards the entrance to the park.  The park was a couple of concrete buildings set on a tiny stretch of flat land with hills and mountains quickly rising behind.  All were modest, and the park’s main building -- housing a cafeteria, main office, shop, and bathrooms -- was something from Jurassic Park.  Large iron gates encompassed every open doorway, and swung shut automatically.  It wasn’t until after the wild macaque landed on our table, grabbed some fried chicken and a pineapple and ran away that we realized the gates were insurance against the thievery of the monkeys.

Bornean Bearded Pig.

We saw long tailed macaques, silver leafed langurs, and the endangered proboscis monkey.  The proboscis is definitely the strangest wild animal I’ve seen to date, although I couldn’t get any pictures of the pot-bellied primate up in the trees.  Later, hiking through the dense jungle to reach a secluded beach, I was struck by the overwhelming heat of the rain forest.  I thought the cover afforded by the canopy would make the jungle cooler, but it in fact had the effect of a microwave oven!  Frequent stops and lots of water were needed and our 5 kilometer hike turned into an all day affair, as the crushing humidity of the jungle slowed down our every step.  After climbing through the jungle, we reached a stretch of trail on the top of a small mountain.  It was arid, exposed, and damn hot.  With a shirt on my head for protection, we tried to cover this dangerous ground as quickly as possible.  Through the sweltering plateau we reached a large boulder overlooking a pearl sand beach nestled between two lush cliffs.  This was why I came to Borneo!

In case you don't like beaches.