Experiences in applying for jobs
While awaiting my Senior Cambridge results, I returned to Kuala Lumpur to consider what I was going to do in life. In response to my request, Uncle Sinnapoo said he was prepared to pay half my expenses to study Law in England if Kumarasingam would pay the other half. However, Kumarasingam could not afford it. Moreover his health was poor and he was considering early retirement on medical grounds. (Eventually it turned out that he did retire early, return to Ceylon and he passed away within a few years).
I had applied to the Department of Education in Singapore as well as the Department of Education in Selangor for teacher training posts, as well as for technical studies to work in the Railways or Postal services. All of them indicated that they would schedule interviews only after reviewing my School Certificate results.
Kumarasingam became impatient with the wait, and urged me to visit the Chief Clerk of the Postal Services in Kuala Lumpur (K.L.) to get a job as a clerk. I understood that the Chief Clerk could manipulate the system and get me appointed if I promised to pay him my first month’s salary. Many chief clerks did the same and expected gifts to keep your path in the service smooth and safe. I did not want such a life, although I would not have minded being a temporary clerk. To please Kumarasingam, one Sunday, I went to the Chief Clerk’s residence, who lived in a terrace house. I knocked on the door and his wife answered. Her husband was asleep and she asked why I wanted to see him.
I said loudly “I want to ask him for appointment as a clerk and promise to give him my first month’s wages if he will give it to me.”
The husband shouted from inside, “Chase that idiot away; there is no vacancy in the Post Office!”
I went away smiling, noting that his neighbour was standing in his veranda and must have heard us both. The next day Kumarasingam scolded me for being stupid.
Earlier, I had made a futile attempt for a clerical job in Singapore before returning to K.L. The Singapore Police Force captivated my attention but I failed to get into it as a Cadet Inspector because the recruitment of Asian Cadet Inspectors would begin only a year later.
Dr. Proebstel advised me to seek employment at the Methodist Boys’ School as a student teacher. Proebstel met me at M.B.S. and said that there was a rival candidate, also a Hindu, from Ipoh. The Principal would ask me if I would become a Methodist. If I agreed, I was certain to be selected. I had been leaning towards the Methodist Church but if conversion were a condition for a job, I would reject it. I wanted to forego the interview but Proebstel advised me to take the chance. As expected, conversion to Christianity was a condition and I declined the offer.
On the day my examination results arrived, I posted them to the departments to which I had applied. I also took one copy personally to see Mr. Gunn, who was the Selangor Inspector of Schools. He had been my English teacher for a few days at Raffles Institution. I knew that his Chief Clerk was a watchdog who would not let me see the Inspector. Without stopping at his desk, I walked straight in and knocked at Gunn’s door. He called me in. The chief clerk, however, managed to wriggle out of his chair, heaving his potbelly and followed me to say,
“Sir, this fellow has barged in without permission.”
With a smile, Gunn said. “It’s alright, Mr. Ponnampalam, I know this young man.”
The watchdog looked daggers at me and withdrew.
“I understand why you barged in. Very smart of you, but do I know you?”
“Yes, Sir, you taught me English last year at R.I. for a few weeks.”
“Ah, what can I do for you?” I handed over my application. He looked at it and asked,
“Why didn’t you apply earlier? Just this morning, I have short-listed all applications.”
“I did apply earlier, Sir. The copy I am giving you now is merely a copy.”
“So, I see, and you guessed that the original would be lost?”
He went on to explain that the preference was for persons born in Selangor, but since my results were better than those of some he had short-listed he would do what he could for me. We talked about R.I. for a while and I left.
The first call, by telegram from Singapore, told me that the Education department had selected me to be a student teacher. That very night, I departed for Singapore by train, underwent medical tests, and subsequently was appointed and posted temporarily to St. Andrew’s School. There were too few places in government schools for all the new trainees.
So, as the saying goes, ‘It does not rain but pours!’ In the same week, Kumarasingam sent me a telegram saying both the Railway and Education Departments had selected me. He advised me to accept the Railway offer. I was tempted to do so and also to go to the Technical Training School, but deep in my heart, my conscience told me that I should keep what I had accepted.
Teacher Training: Normal Classes 1926 – 1928
The training of teachers occurred in ‘Normal Classes’. There were about 40 trainee teachers, some from Johore. Prior to 1925, teacher training was a two-year part-time course during which trainees taught full-time in schools. In 1925, teacher training became a three-year course.
The first year, was intended to raise our academic level in English Language and Literature, the History of the British Empire, Geography and Arithmetic. I felt that it was merely an extension of the School Certificate syllabus. We were paid salaries according to our posting. At some schools, the trainees taught full time and earned a salary of (Straits dollars) $80/ plus a cost of living allowance of $12/ per month. Others, like me, did not teach and were paid $50/ plus a cost of living allowance of $7/50.
Student teachers who taught classes from the beginning of their training were often quite clueless about the right teaching skills. As such, they learnt the art of teaching by trial and error. Some trainees, left to their own devices, amused themselves unless asked to mark pupils’ work that were set by qualified teachers. At times, they substituted for teachers on medical leave. Other trainees like me were more fortunate. I had a timetable that required me to move to various classes to observe experienced teachers at work, and to prepare and teach some lessons under supervision. I had excellent supervision and guidance from three outstandingly good teachers — Tan Ah Hung, F. W. Chan, and Dong Chui Seng. Joseph Lee, the Principal, and Mrs. Tryner, the Supervisor, took turns at supervising my practical teaching.
In the beginning, the Principal’s criticism of my method was so severe that I was discouraged and told him before he had finished “Sir, I don’t think I’ll make it as a teacher, I had better find something else to do.”
I stood up to go away, but he ordered me to sit down and said “I’m sorry, I have upset you, I forgot that your real training has not commenced, you haven’t started getting lectures even in the theory of teaching, and so you don’t know how to prepare the notes for a lesson. I will get one of the teachers to show you how. After that I’m sure you’ll be on the road to real teaching.”
Because of such help, I really learnt how to teach and fared better in the profession than those who had higher wages or had an easier time than I had. However, I must confess that I felt sore at not having the chance to earn the $92. In June 1926, many in the class failed but I had passed.
The second year was an introduction to Theory and Practical teaching. However, the Lecturer merely lectured, did all the talking and neither demonstrated nor gave us any chance to practice our teaching skills. The Principals of schools where we had trainee positions had to give us such guidance. My posting was at St Andrew’s until the end of 1926 where I continued to get teaching practice under qualified, experienced teachers as well as under the Supervisor and the Principal. I learnt many teaching techniques that were valuable from all of them.
I learn about the importance of discipline in the classroom
One initial difficulty trainee teachers have is maintaining class discipline. I noted that the discipline of the class would fall apart if a teacher did not capture the attention of pupils’ right from the beginning. Common errors included, talking too long, teaching over the heads of the weaker pupils and failing to stimulate the interest of the brighter pupils. I observed that threats and shouts by teachers had the effect of more pupils ignoring the teaching. F. W. Chan held the attention of mischievous pupils by just fixing his eyes on them, talking in an even tone, calling out the name of an inattentive student and setting him a question on the topic in hand. If the answer was wide off the mark, he would go back and present the topic in simpler language. All good teachers made student participation the key to gaining attention and stimulating learning. I received advice and guidance in preparing notes of lessons and illustrations and learnt from Tan Ah Hung the importance of ensuring that all students from the strongest to the weakest profited by every lesson.
Necessity is not merely the mother of invention but also of progress. To teach English and Literature, the Principal assigned me to the weakest class and a good one. I had to think hard to devise ways to cope with the students who had moved from one class to the next higher class but had not even read the prescribed textbook. I resorted to giving them extra lessons after school to read and answer easy questions. I myself had to stay back with them and walk between the rows of pupils to prevent the weaker ones copying answers from the better ones.
Transfer to Radin Mas Primary School: 1927
Radin Mas, previously a bungalow owned by the Sultan of Johor, became a new primary school in January 1927 with four Primary one classes. During the middle of my Second Year (January 1927), the department transferred me to Radin Mas Primary School where I taught full time, and had a higher salary of $92.00. I was very pleased. I now could afford decent attire, share a cab to and from school, be on equal footing with others in the club’s cricket team and occasionally buy a book. I took great joy in being able to help an intelligent student who wanted to leave school because his father had died and his grandmother could not afford the monthly $2.00 school fee. I was glad to pay for him. His grandmother arrived at the end of the first month with a gift of eggs in a basket to show her appreciation. I could not make her take them away. I had no option but to put some money in the basket. That stopped her from bringing any more eggs!
I was happy at the school. I got on well with the Principal, Mrs. Symonds who was reputed to be a difficult person who made it tough for some staff. In May 1927, I was happy to be among those who passed the Second year exam although many others failed. I had started training with more than 40 and now the class had dropped to 25 although four from the previous batch who were re-sitting the year made it 29.
The third year was grueling because Mrs. Bishop, who was taking us in both the theory and practice of teaching, was a most conscientious trainer, and set exacting standards for our practical teaching. I was keen to excel as a teacher and welcomed her methods. The one aspect where I could not meet her standards was the quality of handwriting. My best hand written notes earned very adverse remarks until I felt thoroughly fed up and passed on my ordinary illegible writing and she would return my notes with the comment “illegible”. I was glad when she did not condemn my practical teaching!
One day in February 1928, Mrs. Symonds pitched into me in front of my class. She overstepped her responsibility as Principal and set about giving me training by criticising my teaching in front of the class. I felt that if I was doing badly, she could have taken over the lesson and later called me to her office and pointed out my faults. I was so embarrassed and furious that I threw a book down on the floor, and, advancing towards her told her to get out of my classroom. Taken aback, she walked out saying that she would report me at once to the Inspector of Schools, Mr. H.T. Clarke. (At that time there were only two education officials – Dr. Winstedt, Director over all schools from Singapore to Penang and Mr. Clarke, one and only Inspector of Singapore Schools. All principals, except the Principal of Raffles Institution, and teachers in Singapore held him in awe.)
Immediately after school, I wrote a letter of resignation and took it to the Department of Education. I reached there shortly after 2 p.m. and Mr. Clarke had just come back after lunch. Ignoring his clerk, I knocked at his door and walked in.
He looked up in surprise, took my letter, read it and said, “Sit down and tell me… why this letter?” This was quite different from what I had expected. He was reputed to be stern and never offered a seat even to expatriates.
I sat down. He said, “Take your time, cool off and tell me everything.”
I told him the full story including how I lost my temper and ordered Mrs. Symonds out of the room. He asked, “What are you going to do after I accept your resignation?”
“I haven’t thought of that, Sir. I just do not want the type of treatment given me by Mrs. Symonds. I’ll have to look around for something.”
“Leave this letter with me and go back tomorrow as usual to work. I’ll come there to investigate this matter and if you still want to stop teaching you may do so”.
The next day, he came into the class with the Principal and after signalling to me to carry on teaching; he went to the back of the room and stood listening to my lesson. The two of them talked occasionally; once I heard clearly, “You should never criticise a teacher, even a trainee, in front of his class.” Also something about not weakening a teacher’s authority over his students. He came to me at the end of the lesson, turned over the pages of my class register, pointed to the rule on the cover that required a teacher to fill in every particular relating to pupils, then opened a page where I hadn’t entered the year and pointed to it. I said, “Sorry, Sir, an oversight.”
Nodding his head he continued,” I should like you to continue as a teacher; if you think otherwise write to me again.” Without waiting for any response from me he said, “Goodbye!” and drifted away.
From that day, Mrs. Symonds would only stop at my doorway for a while but go away without entering. Some weeks later, I discovered from friends, that Mrs. Symonds was unpopular within the expatriate community because she treated her husband with scant respect at their parties. I suspect Mr. Clarke was sympathetic towards me because he welcomed the chance to put her down.
Soon after, came my Examination in practical teaching at Outram School. I had to prepare a Primary 5 class to write a composition on a topic of my choice. I did not know who would be my examiner. I saw Mr. Clarke coming and went cold! Usually he was not an examiner. I feared he had come to find an excuse to fail and throw me out of teaching for having been rude to a white woman, the wife of a senior official in the Municipality. However, he smiled in response to my greeting and that helped me shake off my nervousness and do my best. At the end Mr. Clarke remarked,” Not bad, young man!” It was a hint that I had passed. I did not know whether I was standing or floating. Shortly after the announcement of the full results, I had a letter from the Department of Education telling me that I had won an indentured scholarship to Raffles College. (There was no university in Singapore at that time, but Raffles College eventually became part of a University). Mrs Symonds sent me a note congratulating me and gave me a gift of a Parker fountain pen. It was very noble of her – she was above any petty vindictiveness. Immediately I went to her office and thanked her.
Coping with financial and boarding problems as a trainee teacher
When I began my teacher training, I was compelled to think carefully how I spent every cent of my allowance. Although I earned only $57.50 a month during the first 18 months and $92.00 the next 18 months, Kumarasingam wanted me to settle a debt of about $200.00 on his behalf by instalments. I was lucky to be able to manage. During the first year, Dr. Chan Jim Swee, who still lived at the Tan Tock Seng Hospital quarters, offered me board and lodging, asked me to pay him only what I could afford. Therefore, it was easy going. An excellent Chinese cook prepared all the meals. Dr. Chan, like a parent, insisted on looking after me and serving me an equal share of the food brought to the table. Jim Swee remained a good and generous friend. For example, in 1927 when I fell ill with food poisoning, he responded promptly to a call from me, and immediately got me admitted to a government hospital where I was entitled to free treatment. When he resigned and went into private practice, he rented a private residence and offered to share it with me.
However, I decided to join Retnasabapathy in a boarding house in Prinsep Street. We had our meals at various cheap eating shops and were disgusted that foreign prostitutes occupied the two rooms next to ours. We were glad when a room fell vacant in Lanka Boarding House in Bencoolen Street next to our friend Ben Dudley’s room, and moved there. Ben was a qualified teacher with whom we played cricket at the Ceylon Sports Club. Each of us paid $30.00 a month for board, lodging and laundry and had a balance of $27.50 cents from our allowance to meet other expenses.
Experiences with my fellow lodgers
Retnasabapathy and I shared a cubicle that had two single beds, a writing table and two chairs. However, it was wonderful that we could use the common lounge to read, write or talk with the residents. Furthermore, we were free to use the dining room outside of meal times. The meals were tasty and quite varied. Fellow residents were companionable. One of them, an Englishman, head of the Singer Sewing Machine Company in Singapore, sometimes took Ben and us for a swim at Ponggol and gave us treats. I can still see in my mind’s eye the image of the guy floating in the swimming pool with his huge paunch looking like a balloon.
Roche, one of the other lodgers was an amiable and jovial guy, but often quarrelsome after his drinks. On one occasion, being drunk, he fancied I had offended him. Snatching a Malay dagger from his collection of daggers, he came shouting from his room threatening to kill me. Our doors had no locks. I grabbed my cricket bat and waited behind my door to strike his dagger off his hand as soon as he entered, but other tenants rushed out of their rooms and disarmed him. The next day, he had no recollection about his behaviour and apologised to me when I asked him how I had offended him. On another occasion, I returned unexpectedly to find Retnasabapathy reading my diary. I flew into a rage and punched him until he was about to drop to the floor. Ben Dudley rushed in and held me back. From that day, Retnasabapathy roomed in with Ben. My anger wore away fast; our regard for each other was very deep; soon we were friends again.
Pillay, an Insurance agent, took his place. He loved alcohol and fights. Tired of the embarrassment he had caused, I challenged him to a drinking context promising to show him it was possible to enjoy alcohol without becoming unruly. It was a rash challenge since I was not in the habit of taking alcohol. He laughed and accepted my challenge. If I could really hold my drink as I had boasted he would let me control his drinking. The following Saturday night, he brought a full bottle of brandy and I had no choice but trust to luck. We finished the entire bottle drink for drink. My head and face felt leathery. I was tottery and we had to support each other going down the stairs. However, my mind was very clear. At the dining table, Pillay tottered towards a guy he disliked, calling him names and challenged him to a fight. Someone pulled him back into his seat and others helped to prevent a scene. The next day, he claimed he did not know what had happened. However, he was gentleman enough to keep his promise to limit himself to two drinks per night in my presence. He also did me a favour – he showed me how to earn some money by recruiting students for the Wolsey Hall Correspondence lessons and getting a commission fee.
When Pillay left for Sri Lanka, Chris Goonasegram, a close friend from my M.B.S. days and a classmate, during my teacher training days took his place. During the few months we shared the room, we had good discussions about what we studied and went on long hikes on Sundays exploring different coastal swampy areas such as Ponggol and Mandai. My contact with him thinned out after I moved out with Dudley and Retnasabapathy to set up a bachelors’ mess in a terrace house in Serangoon Road and I got more addicted to cricket and preparing for my final exam.
A memorable trip to Swatow, China. 1927
Jim Swee used to take on contracts as medical officer on merchant ships carrying immigrants from China to Singapore. During the August school vacation in 1927, he took me as his assistant to Swatow on a Norwegian ship. It was my first sea travel since my migration to Singapore in 1916. I was so seasick that I was his first patient on board and for four days, I wished I had not accepted the trip. The next three days were enjoyable. Jim Swee’s only patient was a sailor with a chronic sore on his arm. We relaxed and talked about our life experiences. I was especially interested in his ambition to set up his own clinic in a rural area and treat poor patients at a minimal cost.
The weather was warm until the sixth day, when it suddenly became very cloudy. The sea that had been like a vast, gently fluttering blue cloud began to swell with high ripples as though it would any moment take off and fly off, bearing our ship on it. Dolphins had been merrily keeping pace with us and seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the excitement of a flight in space. The ship began to list. Huge waves hit us repeatedly on one side. Sprays of water came over us like rain and the sailors told us it was the beginning of a typhoon. They advised us to return to our cabin. The ship would put on steam and make it as quickly as possible into Hoi How harbour. The captain did not want to risk being out on open sea. The waves were so high before we made the shelter of the harbour that they washed over the deck. After a couple of hours in the sheltered harbour, the typhoon ceased suddenly and after this lull, vendors came on board with various kinds of edibles. We bought pineapples, bananas and oranges.
The next day we sailed between two high rocky promontories, into a large cove of such beauty that I could not have imagined. I felt that the scenery alone was worth my trip. The water was as smooth as glass. Swatow was on the left and all around it were buildings. I had never travelled before, and was deeply grateful for this wonderful gift from a humble, gentle, generous, affectionate, warm-hearted friend.
We explored the ancient part of the city on foot. Slabs of rock paved the narrow streets where two rickshaws could hardly pass each other. The people of Swatow and I were fascinated with each other. Jim Swee, himself a Chinese and able to speak their tongue, albeit with a foreign accent, made them laugh. However, I was a curiosity for them. Probably, I looked like a strange animal out of a circus walking about for their entertainment. They stared and made excited comments. Jim Swee said they had never before seen any one with my complexion and features. They wondered where I originated. When they were told I was a Tamil, they were even more surprised because they did not know there were Tamils in this world. China was their world!
I tried to imagine how the people lived through all the revolutions and dynastical changes in their country. However, when I recall those days, my mind floods with smells of humans, images of items displayed for sale, and colourful, swaying laundry on bamboo poles protruding from windows above us. The soldiers looked anaemic and were hardly able to stand erect supporting themselves on their rifles. Heaps of stinking garbage littered the streets. The cacophony of numerous voices talking simultaneously filled the air, while Jim Swee tried to make friends by buying things he did not need. We lunched on steaming bowls of hot soup mee (noodles). Bystanders watched critically as I used chopsticks.
During our return journey, the deck teemed with emigrants bound for Malaya to work in tin mines. They rolled out their sleeping mats and set up their curved wooden headrests. Several persons cooked rice on portable fireplaces. After our supper, we retired to our cabin, and through the porthole viewed boatloads of girls and women laughing or giggling their way to the ship’s gangway. Sailors had warned us of such an invasion. We bolted our door and switched off our light. However, there was persistent knocking until midnight. The ship would not weigh anchor until the sailors had their fling. We woke up before dawn to feel the ship moving along.
The return journey was to take seven days but on the third day, several emigrants fell ill with cholera. Several died quickly. For two days, Jim Swee had no time to rest even for a minute. The officers asked why I was not assisting the doctor. He told them I was down with flu and he kept me locked up in the cabin. The ship sailed full steam to reach Singapore as quickly as possible. On the fourth day, Jim Swee was so exhausted that he instructed the sailors to lock all new patients in the cabins reserved for them. The sailors were to call him only to certify the dead before their burial at sea. Late on the fifth day, we docked at St. John’s Island, and all the passengers entered quarantine. On the sixth day, Jim Swee and I were allowed to go by launch to Singapore.
A Bachelors’ Mess
A couple of months after my trip, four of us, Ben, Retnasabapathy, Joseph, a Veterinary Surgeon and I, moved out to share a flat (known as a ‘mess’), in a Serangoon road shop-house, near Balestier Road. We calculated that our rent of $30.00, cook’s wages of $10.00 plus cost of marketing, water and electricity rates and dhoby’s (laundry) would make our living cheaper and more comfortable than life at the boarding place. It was within walking distance of the club. We had the services of an elderly, experienced professional Sinhalese cook who wanted lighter work than in a restaurant.
While living in Serangoon Road, all my fellow messmates came down with malaria and I had a busy time nursing them. I had become immune. It also happened that within our short spell of residing there, a very tragic accident occured which shocked us deeply. Dr. John’s son, James, the top student in Standard Seven at Raffles Institution was temporarily staying with us and had won our hearts with his charming ways. As usual, he had gone with his uncle, William, to Victoria School, and was waiting for transport to go to Raffles. He was leaning against a bus pylon when a trolley bus, driven probably by a new or careless driver, ran smack into him crushing him to instant death. He left for me a touching memory; in the afternoon, preceding the tragedy while I was about to fall into a nap he had come and sat near my head and running his fingers through my hair asked,” Uncle, why are you having grey hair when you are so young?” He had that characteristic of observing peculiarities in people and asking questions in such a way as to endear himself to them. He asked Dudley, “Uncle, how did you get your sloping shoulders?” He asked Retnasabapathy how he avoided hurting his tongue, which he appeared to be chewing when he was reading.
Serangoon Road was very noisy and dusty. Trolley buses and mosquito buses ran all through the night. A few months later a three storey terrace house in Race Course Road behind us fell vacant and we moved into it.