Name : Chan Jin KaiENGL 101 : S1Reflective Essay 1 (Narrative Genre) 22th September 2018
I opened my still-shut eyelid, fumbled the cuckoo clock from the messy drawer table next to my bed, cast a glance on the numbers and …… SCREECHED!!!!! It was 17 minutes left to Miss Shanti’s class and I was doomed!
The first class was Miss Shanti Mathematics quiz and she had been treating me so badly as far as I could remember. It all started when I set up a banana skin prank on my friend which ended up with the teacher herself slipping on it and causing the entire class to erupt into wild bellows of laughter. Since then, Mathematics class was a lifetime nightmare for me as she would pick on me every time and anytime. Being late was just going to fuel the bad impression of me in her eyes.

Wasting no time at all, I jolted up in my bed, put on my uniform and rushed into the washroom. I then spun towards my table, decided not to brush my teeth, and snatched my bag. Half dressed, I shoved on my shoes in a haste, bread in mouth and dashed towards the nearby bus station.

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The bus station was crowded as it was the peak hour for students and wage earners. For a few long minutes, I wandered aimlessly in the bus station, hoping that there would be a certain portal in the Stargate movie that could directly send me to the classroom at this particular jiffy. I was really in hot soup. How was I going to explain being late to her class?
It was not long afterwards a crunched pregnant lady came along. Carrying two big plastic bags in both of her hands, she staggered to the bus station. Breathing relentlessly, she stopped in front of me, smiled wanly and scanned through me.

“Can you help me to take this and allow me to board first?” the apprehension in her voice was obvious. Pretending I could not hear her, I put my head down as I could hardly meet her gaze.

Here was the catch – I would miss the bus if I allowed her to board first. I would late to class and there would be more reasons for Miss Ponnudurai to picked me up. She would shriek at me and send me out of the class. Most importantly, I might get a F grade in my quiz for being late. Am I going to be the epitome of saintliness, lend a hand and lose my grade? The self-centered demon inside of me won the debate and took the better of me.
Meanwhile, the yellow bus stopped a few feet from me.
“Can you …” she repeated a little louder. She gripped my hand.
Before she could finish her sentence, I, instinctively, swung her hand away and boarded via the front door, pretending that I was in a hurry and it was after all none of my business.
“There are a lot of people out there to help out, why me?” I thought to myself.
Hearing the blast of loud Indian music coming from a loudspeaker just beside the mustached bus driver, I, therefore, sat on one of the seats and pondered about my situation. As I craned my neck to look behind and squinted outside the window, I could see her paired of eyes were turned on me, filled with disbelief. Was I that wrong?
The bright sun greeted me out in the bus station. It was such a lovely day. The blue sky was decorated with huge puffy clouds that drifted lazily by. However, all sorts of thoughts started rising to defend my actions. ” You can’t help everyone in this world. You were in a hurry and it wasn’t unforgivable. You worked hard for your grade. It’s not your problem. There is always someone else to help her.” But still, deep inside my heart, the pair of helpless gaze bothered me. The ambient of rock and roll Indian music was not enough to erase the stain of guilt.
By and by, I finally reached my classroom and to my surprise, there was no teacher in class. We were supposed to have a mathematics quiz then, but I could see my classmates chatting away without a care of the world. The whole class as so noisy that it would have put the market place to shame. I could not make myself to join the merry-making, knowing that I had done something against my conscience.
Alone, I resumed building castles in the air.

“Perhaps I’m wrong. I should lend a hand to needy and most importantly, she is a pregnant lady. How could I have just ignored? How could I have just walked away? How could I…?” Aiding pregnant woman is a common manner more than anything else. The unbearable self-conflicts and self-criticization came up to torment me.

My reverie was interrupted the moment I could see a silhouette of a familiar figure striding towards the class. A whispered warning swept through the class and the effect is immediate. All heads turned to this pretty stranger. The moment she stepped into the class, my breath was almost taken away.
“Well,” she broke the silence, beaming from ear to ear.
“I’m Miss Anne. Miss Ponnudurai is going to a meeting overseas. So, I would be in-charge of your Mathematics Class for that 2 weeks. Today, all of you are to sit down quietly and do your own work.”
The atmosphere broke into wild applause and the merry-making started again.
“What’s wrong?” Jobbie whispered.

“You look terrified,” He added.
Jobbie announced to the class that I was terrified as I was going to miss Miss Shanti for the whole week, and because I wouldn’t get her routine “special treatment” for a week. But I was utterly dumbfounded because Miss Anne was none other than the pregnant lady that I met in the bus station. I felt tongue-tied to reveal this episode to Jobbie.

It was needless to mention that how I went through that terrible weeks. Every single tiny thought and guiltiness would be etched profoundly in my mind and never would it fail to remind me kindness should always will be prioritized no matter what.



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