Schooled by Christ

Jul 12, 2024

Word in Progress - Karen-Michaela Tan
I did not know it at the time, but I attended convent school at the nadir of Catholic missionary education as Malaysia used to know it. While it would be years before crosses were removed from the brothersrun schools and convents, the move to ‘de-Christianise’ missionary schools was already taking root. The stories of being educated by stern nuns were not mine. They belong to men and women now in their late sixties and older, who actually remember being taught by missionary sisters from Ireland.

Yet, I know I have been shaped by my primary years in St Teresa’s Convent in Brickfields. We had catechism every Friday, taught by our formidable headmistress. At the end of the lesson, she would give each girl a shiny 50 sen coin. Invariably that same amount would be given to a ragged little student whom most girls shunned.

I asked Mrs Cheow one day why the student was rewarded when she had not attended class. I didn’t dare question her validity as a Catholic because I was at the time church-going but not baptised. Stout Mrs Cheow told me something I have carried with me since: “We must bring God’s love to people in the way they understand. If a person is hungry, they need to be fed so they can hear God’s voice over the rumble of their stomachs. The money I give Bernadette allows her to have at least one meal today.”

We may have lost Sr Enda Ryan, the last great Irish educator of her generation, and in tandem, any right the Catholic Church may have over the grounds our schools were built on, and in the purvey of teachers, or even the tokenism of a dotted line linking a parish to a parochial school, but what we still have in the school system are teachers who are Catholic. They may be a minority, but they exist. And they are still making sure the love of Christ is felt in schools, at the time of life students feel the most pressured and lost.

My teen is in a public school whose English Language Head is Catholic. A relatively new arrival to the school, he has taken to standing at the main gate on Mondays to greet students. Small gesture as it may be, it makes the students feel seen. Renowned for his creative lessons and innovative teaching methods, he has also become a trusted adult to many teens. Known to be firm but fair, Mr E has the uncanny ability to sift truth from falsehood (particularly useful when grading group work). With an inner sixth sense honed from decades of teaching, he is also amazingly good at giving extra care and attention to teens who are going through difficult times. Some may say this is just par for course for a teacher who has been in the system for so many years. I say that Mr E bothers to care because he knows the role he has been entrusted with. To him, being a teacher is not just a profession, but a charism. He believes he was called, and he believes the one who called him has equipped him for the job.

In 1 Kings 17:7-16 when the prophet Elijah emerges from hiding, he is instructed by God to head to Zarephath where he is told a widow would supply him with food. The first widow he meets is preparing for her very last meal. Sidon was in the throes of drought. The little food available for sale was far beyond the means of a woman with no rich relatives and powerful allies. When Elijah met his benefactress, the widow was gathering sticks to make a fire to prepare one last meal for her son and herself, and then succumb to starvation.

In the midst of this scarcity, Elijah tells the widow not to be afraid, and urges her to make him a scone before preparing her last meal. If you’re a baker, you’d know that a scone would have taken all the flour the woman had left in her jar. And yet, there was still enough left over. Like the magic porridge pot of fable, the widow’s jar of flour and jug of oil fed three people every day until the rain came and crops could be sown again. Undoubtedly the provision did not stop until the family were able to grow food of their own again.

Each time when the nation shakes its head over reports of students being hurt or demeaned by teachers, I hold on to the hope of that one jar of flour and one jug of oil. I trust in that one Christian teacher in any school who carries Christ in him or herself, who is brave enough to swim against the current of apathy, and dare to care. I trust that God endows these educators with the courage to stand up and decry something that is not right or just, and gives them persistence in ensuring the kingdom of God is present in school, expressed by the teacher(s) and experienced by the students.

There is a concept in psychology which has been gaining prominence of late. ‘Glimmers’ are small moments in life which elicit a spark of joy, or a feeling of peace and happiness. Some psychology practitioners call it ‘hope’ or ‘awe’. I prefer to think of it as tangible reassurances from a loving Father who wants His children to know that He is with us in every trial of life. Once, long ago, God the Father sent God the Son to be His love incarnate, the real human embodiment of divine love that does not diminish through millennia.

Until the second coming, God will have nobody but ours. Even if we do not teach in the public school system, as parents, we can find ways to get through those school gates. We can serve on the parents’ committee, PTA, act as chauffeurs and chaperones to inter school events, or help coach sports. I train the school’s public speaking candidates, and in my time with them try to pass on some life lessons. Sometimes I am successful, other times, not as successful as I would like. But I don’t give up because my presence as a Catholic in school amplifies the work already done by Catholic teachers. One of us is flour, the other, oil. Together we strive to produce bread for the journeys of as many students as we can.

(Karen-Michaela Tan is a poet, writer and editor who seeks out God’s presence in the human condition and looks for ways to put the Word of God into real action.)