It took me one and a half years to finally understand what was wrong with my class.
Up till now I've always complained that 4.9 2007 was too boring. Too bland. Too uninteresting. I've been such a fool.
I read an acquaintance's (cordially, lest I undermine the term 'friend') blog, revived after who knows how long. I don't know him very well, I admit, and I similarly admit that I have misunderstood him at certain points of time. And perhaps I may never know him very well, but I know that one single sentence in his long blog post hit the nail on something that I had completely missed out on.
It wasn't even a statement as much as it was an afterthought. But that was the strongest reminder to me. It was just a simple afterthought in a bracket. Such a seemingly meaningless statement that intends to spite more than getting any meaning across, but treating it that way is mocking the person who wrote this and saying that he didn't write this with any purpose in mind (yet the possible irony involved in the situation where he does actually subscribe to writing it on a whim is hopefully not one I have to deal with.)
The ACSian Life, if you will, is a rather interesting one. You have classes of crazy people straight from 1.1 to 4.17 (and perhaps even 6.17, or whatever the last class may be), some less crazy than others, some crazier than others, and then there's the OM boys. You have your interesting teachers of ACS, from the wise cracks from Mr. Quek to the wise insights from Mr. Chew. And then you, as part of the student populi, have a neverendingly amusing student-headmaster relationship with the great Doctor Ong.
It is because of this experience - a truly unique ACSian one - that one can easily find himself identifying people of the same alma mater. A random kid from 1.3 can talk just as easily to his fellow classmate as he could to his senior in 5.9 if the topic was about school socks. To extend it further, I find myself able to talk with a Sunday School acquaintance (more out of truth than out of respect) about a particular teacher because simply put, he came from Yu Hua Secondary School.
It is perfectly normal for humans to be able to link and communicate to each other through certain common ground. Irregardless of race, language or religion, you can easily chat up a conversation with someone given sufficient common ground, be it similar experiences, similar ideals, similar hobbies and interests, or perhaps similar relations to a particular person. This common ground is also what gives you varying levels of closeness - one in the same class would go better with one in the same university, assuming no other common factors outside of school/university exist.
So what are we, as ACSians? A group of people fighting against change and status quo destruction? Victims of a system that focuses too much on the stuff that glitters? A group of congregation members joining up to sing To God Be The Glory in the grandest way possible while singing Be Thou My Vision in the highest falsetto possible? A group of diehard lovers of the rugby sport, cheering their hearts out twice every year to beat the Saints? Perhaps we are more than all of that combined. And what's wrong? Truly, the ACS Experience is a very wonderful, enriching and unique one.
But that is the exact problem that my class faces.
When you have two people, one from Secondary 4 and one from Year 6, having a good conversation on the general feeling of being an ACSian, you can hardly blame them if they're not learning the same subjects, in the same CCAs, or from remotely similar walks of life. After all, if this ACSian experience can tie them together, who's to complain?
Yet the situation is so drastically different when in regards to a class of like-minded individuals. Why is it that common ground goes as far as this 'mere' ACSian experience? Why is it that we, students that have been undergoing the ACSian education for 4 years, have nothing better in common apart from being ACSians? This is the problem.
When I was with my Sunday School study group, I heard my friend (acquaintance just sounds too queer here) from Yu Hua talk about her school, the fights and bloodshed that goes on there every other day, the severe lack in budget the school faces, the closing down of an incompetent SJAB group which fainted at the sight of blood, and lastly, about their beloved teacher Mr. Koh Tee Hock (Though I rather not repeat stories). I heard my friend from Ang Mo Kio Secondary talk about how proud they were when they got Gold with Honours, about how her teachers said that they were not up to the ACSian or RIan standards. Then I heard them talk about their classes, what their class life was like, and so on.
And I realized I was completely silent. Not because I didn't have anything to say about ACS, but rather because I felt I had nothing meaningful to say.
I remembered my AMKS friend saying something. In one of her many conversations with her friends over recess, one of them noted "I'm going to miss this school". So am I. So what's the issue?
I will miss this school, but will I miss my class?
Through my ASM's MSN Space I took a look at the pictures of his class's celebration of a teacher's birthday. And you could just see. That was a class. If given a picture of his class and a picture of mine, then asked which one was a class, it would be easy to answer 'both'. If asked which class was a closer one, it would be just as easy to answer.
The simple term 'Class' bears multiple definitions. As follows, quoted off princeton,
"people having the same social or economic status; "the working class"; "an emerging professional class"
a body of students who are taught together; "early morning classes are always sleepy"
a collection of things sharing a common attribute; "there are two classes of detergents"
a body of students who graduate together; "the class of '97"; "she was in my year at Hoehandle High"
wordnet.princeton.edu/perl/webwn"
Note the second and fourth definition. A body of students. Why 'body' over 'group'? There is the implied sense of closeness. 4.11 falls under the second and 4th definitions. We fall under the first and third. That is what's wrong with our class.
I have wondered who is to blame for this. Honestly speaking, I have always put the blame onto myself, the chairman of 3.9 2006. A teenager who is supposed to lead like-minded men - fools and geniuses alike - into the life of Secondary 3. And honestly, I failed miserably. Perhaps it has all been inevitable. Perhaps not. But irregardless, the blame that I cannot put on fate I can only put on myself.
I can write a story about a small group of close friends who went to the arcade every other chance they got, a group of friends who shared a love for games, be it fighting games, shoot-em-ups, card games or DotA (though I admit I keep myself out of the last one).
I can write a story about a computer genius who tried to take a triple science, triple math subject combination in a linguistically biased curricula, a story about a genius who could play Fantasie Impromptu, do computer programming, play well at badminton and know math and physics two years beyond his level (Certainly a story that would be interesting to write).
I can write a story about a talented yet unappreciated child who thought in a different way from the rest of the class, yet was always ignored.
I can write a story about a silent child who sat at the left end corner of the class, talking to no one and whispering only to some.
I can write a story about a child who loved writing stories, one who loved reading, one who kept crying while reading and watching emotional stories, and one who had 28 hours per day instead of 24.
I can write on, and on, and on. I could.
But I will never ever be able to write about the synergy between these children in a class called the class of 4.9 Elijah 2007. Because it wasn't there.
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