Catch Them Doing Right

Prologue

This is a humble story based on an actual class and school experience. Being kind, albeit in a backhanded way, does help us connect with the toughest of us. Please enjoy it.

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Tiny. That was the word that ran through my delinquent brain as Mrs. Michelle Liew walked into our class, well-littered with paper and cigarettes. She was so diminutive; how was she supposed to manage us when she was half our height?

Ours was a class of rambunctious, rebellious students in the technical stream, conventionally supposed to wreak all imaginable havoc. We had already gone through three teachers in the past year; someone as small as Mrs. Liew couldn’t possibly make much of a difference.

Personal conflicts were nothing new; most of us, Rob Lim in particular, came from broken homes, with parents either separated or worse, neglectful. Our school uniforms were often unironed and unkempt; we came to class unshowered and smelling of cigarette smoke.

“Helmi Ahmad?” Her voice was surprisingly resonant as she called my name; it had a musical lilt. The class, all boys, started sniggering as she began the attendance-taking ritual.

But I couldn’t shake the fact that she wouldn’t be so easy to overcome, as Russian-doll like as she was.

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Of course, the class tried to overwhelm her. As she proceeded with her English classes, packs of cigarettes, lit surreptitiously, emerged under our desks. She seemed oblivious to the smoke, foolish as she was. We were home free.

The run-of-the-mill lesson drew to a close; our class was never one for academics, particularly language. We gathered our belongings, including the cigarette packs, and proceeded to the door as the bell rang a relieving sound.

The little lady blocked the door with a box. “Cigarettes, please. And lighters. Please walk back to your desks; Mr. Subash will speak with you.” She had somehow - to this day we don’t know how - sent him a message.

We spent the rest of the day in the school’s detention classroom, which was cloying and clustered. We called our hapless parents and informed them about the possibility of expulsion if cigarette smoking happened again.

She was not an easy one to deal with, or so it seemed. So the Clash of the Class Titans (and the Dwarf) began.

____________________________________________________In great earnest. It was a back-and-forth from our class to the detention center. We had reached an impasse, with neither Mrs. Liew nor ourselves giving up the fight.

And it seemed like we were going to win. She looked drained from the efforts of trying to outdo our shenanigans. We celebrated as this nondescript English Teacher came in each day, her face sallow and form, breathless.

We had shown another teacher the door.

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Or so we thought. She came into the class as usual one afternoon and we greeted her with paper balls ready to catapult.

“Helmi, you start the ball-throwing when she comes in,” Rob Lim, one of the other de facto class ‘prefects, instructed.

But Mrs. Liew eyed us with a look that revealed her unwillingness to back down. “Forget it.” She held up a hand. “I’m tired of all this. And I’m sure you are. You just want some freedom from all the rules.”

She had sparked some curiosity. This was a little different.

“I have a proposition for you. Instead of hauling you to detention for each chaotic scene you create, we’re going to do the opposite. I want to Catch You Doing Right.”

Now she had gotten our attention.

“Each time you’re kind to someone, or do the right thing, I will erase two Demerits off your record. You will owe Mr Subash less detention time. How’s that?”

It sounded reasonable. We looked at one another, conferring silently. We looked up at the Dwarf, as she was now known, after a while.

“We’re willing to try it. But only try it.” I announced our decision, proud that the class could negotiate.

“All right,” Mrs. Liew nodded. “Happy to work with you.” To my surprise, she offered a hand. I took it hesitatingly.

She smiled and crooked her eyebrows at the same time. The game was afoot.

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As expected, acts of kindness or consideration didn’t fit us to a T. Conventional young punks like ourselves were seldom recipients of compassion of any form from parents or other adults.

The first few days of this activity were the toughest. Some of us tried to game the system, but the Dwarf, with her uncanny ability to see through the half-hearted compliments and insincere apologies that we tried to pass off as kindness, stayed unfazed. The path to transformation wasn’t a smooth one, of course. We still found ourselves in detention, sometimes daily.

But the thought of having demerits expunged and not having to spend time in the four walls of the room drove us on. We never intended kindness, but it became part of our subconscious.

I remember Rob, our ‘Prefect,’ spotting a janitor trying to load the trash in a too-full dustbin into a bigger container. He gave the senior a hand. Mrs. Liew noticed and took four demerits off his record.

“Hey!” Surprise showed in Rob’s voice. “That means no detention for a week!” Usually scowling and dismissive, he smiled for a long time in a while.

“Yes, it does.” Mrs. Liew’s smile was bright. The Dwarf was attractive, though petite.

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And kindness caught on like wildfire. Our demerit counts decreased considerably. Until Rob got riled. Again.

By hooligans in another class who believed that he had tried to ‘potong jalan’ (steal by jumping the queue) one of their girlfriends.

The Clash of the Titans resumed, but it was between Rob and these other punks. It left Rob bruised and more than a little bloody. It earned him a trip to the school’s medical center for a few stitches and a return of more than all four of his demerit points.

Mrs. Liew passed the medical center and entered. She put her hand on his shoulder. “Be patient. They misunderstood you.” With a scowl, he nodded.

“Now, you can still get rid of those demerits. Start by helping to bring these books to the staff room. Can’t do it by myself, young man.”

He jumped off the bed he sat on and grinned. We observed him from our classroom as he hauled the books to her table.

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And the atmosphere in the class resumed its positive shift. I proudly received the “Best Class in the Level” award for the term on its behalf. This time in a well-pressed uniform. There was no smell of cigarette smoke.

“Kindness is not worthless all the time, is it?” Mrs. Liew addressed us one day. We nodded our assent.

“Ok, now it’s my turn to be kind. Let’s go out as a class for a McDonald’s meal. My treat.” We hooted.