Of Maturity and Idiocy (Part 1)

“Maturity is knowing that you were an idiot in the past.” - Unknown

One fateful day, my eyes opened wide against the setting of a beautiful morning. They later were entangled in the little exhibits in my bedroom. Perhaps a few photographs. A few old books. A few newspaper cuttings. Ah, that ambivalent nostalgic feeling, I thought, as I sipped the hot coffee while reminiscing the good old days.

Ok, the one above is overly theatrical and sounded more like an archetypal coffee TV commercial. Lately, I had the chance to recollect the memories of my past. I felt mature on one hand, realizing that I’ve come a long way to arrived at where I am currently. But otherwise they provide an opportunity for me to take a good laugh at my own idiocy.

Here are some of my favorites:

1. I hid in the closet - Oh, no no no, this is not a come-out-of-the-closet story. During year 6 we had this trip to somewhere-in-Malaysia. On the first night, we stayed in a hotel. And before that we were sternly warned by the teachers in charged that we have to be in bed by 10. Or 11. Not really sure.

But that’s not the point. Well, I was the mischievous kid back then, and do you have any freaking idea how exciting getting away from parents and from home for a few nights can be for a 12-year-old? Oh my god that’s like bigger than the lunar landing or 911 (incidentally, the first day I came back from the trip was when 911 occurred). So, I, together with a few male roommates sneaked out to another room occupied by my female friends. And the party began. We talked, eat, drink, gossip, play cards, etc, etc.

Then, someone else called to inform us that the teachers are doing their rounds of spot check (the horror!) to ensure everyone is in their respective room and asleep. I panicked. At that time, the teachers had found out that we (the few guys) were missing, as we weren’t in our room. So, we hid in the empty closet in the girl’s room.

The teachers suspected we would be in the girls room. And they came into the room but merely stood near the door. Fortunately the girls persistently deny about our presence. The teachers then suspected that we must either be behind the curtains or in the closet. Now, that gives me the oh-my-god jaw dropping look on my face as I find my own situation increasingly disconcerting. So the teachers instructed one of my female friends to open the closet. My female friend was smart enough to open the closet door and, through a combination of gestures, maneuverings, and facial expressions, transmits the there-is-nothing-in-here-you-fool message. Thank God, the opening of the closet was perpendicular to the door of the room. So they see nothing. And they left.

Realizing that they will keep looking for us, the next thing that came to mind was, ok we are going to sneak in our hotel room, and pretend that we were all the while in our own room. But once we open the door of the room, we were caught red-handed.

So the three of us (the guys) were summoned to appear before the “judges” of the righteousness of our conduct. And we have to answer the questions of where we hid, what were we doing, how long have we been in there, etc, etc. Seems like they are rather concerned that we might get someone pregnant. Oh, puh-lease, we don’t even know much about the birds and the bees and the insert-what-into-wheres at that time. At least I don’t. After the “upbraiding”, we were then released on a “bail” - on the condition that we do not repeat our conduct for the next few nights.

2. I became the English-Mandarin translator - During year 3, an English teacher of Indian ethnicity came to teach us, in a class full of Mandarin speakers. Imagine what happened during the first lesson. The English teacher spoke, but no one could comprehend what she said. Except, *ahem, with pride* me, being the only person in class who converse in English at home. And I can’t help but take on the role of an unofficial translator, translating every single sentence the teacher said. Also of note is that it is actually due to this kind of environment that there is a sense of complacency that I did not find the need to improve my English language further, until I went to secondary school. Today it is the era of the ubiquity of English language speakers. So my service is no longer needed. Plus, my English proficiency left much more to desire…

3. I lose my virginity (sort of, but I want to quickly assure you that it did not involve any, erm, penetration). I’ll keep the story private though.

4. I felt so embarassed because I got 2nd in class when I was in year 2. I was previously 1st, and then I slide to 2nd. I thought it was embarassing. Today I’ve come to realize that good grades in the Malaysian school means nothing.

5. I was a victim of social conformity. I felt like an outcast when I was in primary school, being the only person with the “additional name” (”Aaron”) as oppose to just having that 3 piece of thing. I thought it was not cool, that I denounced my English name and ended up identifying myself as “Lo Chee Seng”. Of course now I felt great to have a western first name cos’ I often don’t remember the names of those who identified themselves with their three-syllable name, in all honesty. Also, the fact that some of my secondary school classmates struggled to find themselves a western first name (quite a few settled with “Alex”, I remembered) made me felt darn good.

[To be continued]