Cos' I wanna beat Twilight to a Trilogy

I thought that having spent six months as a teacher, I have seen everything.

This is not an easy conclusion to make – I had to tread the treacherous waters of entertaining 30 plus restless kids kept in a room, watching them gingerly jab spatulas into the wok during cooking class, frantically stopping them as they confused death-defying stunts with “fun”, gaped at fathers trying to teach their sons a lesson with their fists, laughing at the anguished groans of twelve-year-olds when a six-year-old beat them in a PS2 racing game twice, and trying not to laugh as one kid described to me in detail how her dad runs from cockroaches.

However, it appears that even on my last week of work, there are still refreshing sights. For example, one should try watching horror movies with a dozen of kids.

I, for one, do not fancy scaring myself (hence I am especially grouchy after looking into the mirror every morning). I never saw the appeal of horror movies since the ill-fated day that I sat innocently (yes, I was once capable of that) beside my sister to watch “a show about a clown”.

The movie It scared the daylight out of me. I was so freaked out that my sister even got a scolding from my mum for watching horror movies. And since then, I swore off things that crawl out of televisions and make sure I only explore mysterious creaky noises with the lights on.

Of course, I had watched The Exorcist and some low-budget Hong Kong horror movie some years after It. The experience was eye-opening – in the sense that my sister and I could not sleep the whole night, not because it was so scary, but because we may be the only two people on earth who would drink a whole pot of coffee right before watching a devil child spins her head 360 degrees. So, there we were, laying in the dark, all hyperactive and imaginative – a torturing concoction if you had just witnessed some skin-crawling scenes.

So yeah, I do not have good experiences with horror flicks. If I want to watch disfigured corpses floating around, I’ve got … wait, why the hell would I wanna watch disfigured corpses floating around?

This afternoon, however, the kids decided that they do fancy watching such a thing.

I checked with them, “Really? Not scared? Really really?”

They replied, “Really wan. Not scared! Really really.”

So I off the light and got a Japanese horror film (their choice) running. Unsurprisingly, as one coward, the class inched towards the corner and huddled together, peeping at the screen warily through their fingers, even when the screen was just showing a green background with a warning message that illegally copying the movie is a crime.

Finally, the movie started – and more kids joined those at the corner, presumably because they are social chickens. About half an hour into the movie, ghosts appeared once or twice, and usually I would have covered my eyes by then. But this time, I was too busy hushing up some kids debating how proper ghosts ought to appear, while trying to convince other shaken children that the blood are just ketchup (“Lipstick also can, teacher!” One boy offered).

Of course, the whole eerie atmosphere is considerably diluted when one boy, who had watched the movie before, kept telling us when the scary parts are happening (“You see ah how she die! You see ah! You see you see!”).

I never thought that I’d say this, but thanks to the kids, I don’t feel so scared about horror movies anymore.

**********************

Slowly, it is sinking in.

I no longer have to deal with childish complaints.

I no longer have to have small human beings fighting for my attention.

I no longer need to endure the traffic jam at 7 p.m. to go home.

The truth is I don’t actually mind all of the above.

The truth is also I am getting a little too attached.

The truth is I feel very protective over them.

The truth is I cannot protect them forever. They do not need me to.

The truth is it makes no difference to a child that a teacher is leaving.

The truth is that I will miss the “Teacherteacherteacherteacherteacherteacherteacherteacherteacherteacher”.

I suppose the truth hurts.

*********************

I was cleaning my room the other day while singing a little song.

Then, I realized that I have never heard of the song before.

In fact, I was still making up the lyrics when I came upon that realization.

So, I had to do the right thing. I had to do the writing. *anticipates three lines from readers*

Here is what I managed to catch coming out of my mind when I finally found a pen – I have no recollection about the words before. Do insert your own tune, because it’s fun, and because I damn well can’t remember mine.

It’s not the fire that burn
The brightest
It’s not the heart that beat
The hardest
It’s the love you give
So suddenly
It’s the path you take
Unknowingly
For we are full of wonders
But the wonderful – can never see

We live in a world we can’t
Understand
We seek the distance but
Forget our stance
We love the bravest
But give up – our fighting chance

Because we
Just want to dance
Because we
Just hate the fence
Because we
Do not make sense

The moral of the story is that cleaning rooms instills insanity, and should be avoided at all cost. Now if only I can pitch this theory to my mum.