In Memory of Biology

Personally, I've always liked biology. Half the people in my class think I'm crazy, but there you go. Mr. Chuah was my biology teacher for Form 4 and 5 and had been a constant in the school since I arrived in Form 1. So it was strange shift in reality when I found out that he had left this year because of his health. We all knew that he had to be in pretty bad condition for him to stop teaching. But it still came as shock when Clement SMSed me to say that Mr. Chuah had passed away from a heart attack.

In all honesty, though, my liking for biology had nothing whatsoever to do with Mr. Chuah's influence. To put it bluntly, he was as uninspiring as a sheet of sandpaper. He was the perfect epitome of the jaded senior teacher, one who possibly had been quite enthusiastic about his profession when he was younger, and who'd seen far too many winters (or in Manglish, monsoon seasons) during his tenure.

His teaching voice, which I can never forget, was monotonous enough to put anyone who was attempting to pay attention into mind-numbing doldrums. More of often than not, most people wouldn't even bother trying. I still remember the very first bio class, when he spent an hour and twenty minutes droning on and on about the study and origins of Biology, which comprised of just the first two pages of our textbook. From then on, bio classes would be usually two periods of talking (albeit relatively quietly), playing our own games (quite discreetly), doing our own work, or just plain sleeping.

He should be given credit, though, for trying to make classes more high-tech by bringing in the projector to make things slightly more colourful and interactive. And it was, sometimes, when there were pictures of the weird and wonderful, and the videos which sort of interesting at times. Unfortunately, the lights would be turned off, which made the class even more conducive for sleeping or other stuff that wouldn't be easily noticed.

Strangely enough, he never did seem to care about people doing their own work while he was teaching, or even sleeping (he did have it in against Dennis Toh, though). Or maybe he was just plain oblivious, which I highly doubt (teachers, as I've learnt being a student for 12 years, are much more perceptive than we give them credit for). I remember once, having the sudden noble oomph to pay full attention, planted myself next to a friend in the second row right in front of the whiteboard. As always, the execution proved too burdensome of a task. I had a good sleep for about 15 minutes during the second period, and woke to hear him going on about the different types of hormones. Honestly, you can be doing add maths right in the front row, fully equipped with graph paper and electronic calculator, and he'd probably keep talking.

Which brings me to the next point. Being as jaded as he was, he was so cynical that he probably wouldn't be moved even by the thought of children in poverty. Oh all right, maybe not, but he was very, very cynical of our performances in exams. He frequently said things like 'half of you all probably cannot even pass' or 'most of you not are not even becoming doctors, so why bother to study biology?'.

And Mr. Chuah, never, ever actually smiled in class, even though most of us still tried joking with him and treated with some form of friendliness. His 'smile' was more of a grimace, where he seemed to force his cheek muscles into curving upwards. And when he did actually smile, not grimace, it was rather quite scary. I think, to most people, he served as a personal challenge, where they would try to make him smile or (gasp!) laugh, and pry him for his personal and family details. Of course, no one could get a peep out of him (to my knowledge, anyway).

I do remember, as he was becoming increasingly sickly nearing our SPM and he had to go on leave for an operation, we (or to be more accurate, I think, Cheryl and Leconte) got a get-well-card and had everyone sign it. When we gave it to him, there seemed to be a hint of a tear in his eye! No one was sure, but some weeks later, someone said he/she saw the card on his table in the staff room. Maybe he wasn't as cynical or jaded as we thought him to be.

As he was the only biology teacher in the school, the 4S and 5S classes (and maybe K and L) would inevitably be taught by him. I think everyone will say that it was a most memorable experience, though not necessarily in the good sense. But once you leave school, and especially now that Mr. Chuah is gone, we can appreciate for the job he had done, for teaching us Biology the only way he knew how. It was all part of school life. And we can look back on those memories and laugh at those crazy times Mr. Chuah spent teaching us.

I'll always remember you, Mr. Chuah. God bless you and may you rest in peace.