My teacher in quiet doggedness
This story is part of a Mother's Day series by TNP
On my first day of Primary 1 in 1984, my mum stood outside the classroom, silently jostling for a spot close to the window so she could gauge how her firstborn was coping in a new environment.
And just as adamantly, I ignored all the annoying mums blocking the sunlight from streaming into the classroom.
Then I heard a woman tell my mum: “Your daughter knows what date is! My daughter just doesn’t get it.”
I glanced at the book sitting open on the table next to mine and saw “1 2 3 4 5 6 7” in the date field.
My mum softly bragged that I read Berita Harian daily and left after I refused to even look in her direction.
Only much later in life did I realise that my mum’s obsession with making me read as much as I could every day stemmed from her lack of formal education.
She came from a generation where parents believed boys had to go to school but girls did not have to as they would all eventually “end up in the kitchen”.
My mum learnt to read by bugging her brother to share his books and whatever he had learnt in school.
Today, not only can she read text in Malay, but she also understands English and can carry a basic conversation in English with my husband. She is relatively tech-savvy and a discerning consumer of news.
When things did not work out between my parents, my mum packed up and left, my three sisters in tow. She found herself a job and put my sisters through school.
We have been living apart since then but our bond was never broken.
My mum and I do not do things other mothers and daughters do in movies or on social media – hug, go on holidays together, take walks in the park or praise each other openly.
We send WhatsApp messages to each other when necessary. We do not even call each other “just for a chat” but we both know that we can count on each other in times of need.
My mum instilled in me her brand of quiet resolve – to forge ahead no matter what is said of me, get things done without the noise and drama, and let my work speak for itself.
No amount of “thank you” can express my gratitude to my mum for this valuable trait that has carried me through life, just the assurance that I will always have her back.
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