THE BEST SCHOOL EAST OF SUEZ
The school hall was like the inside of a gigantic church, with very high arched vaults and a hugh bell in an opening near the roof. The pupils assembled neatly, ably supervised by smart looking prefects in their blue and white ties, while teachers, dressed in ties and coats, sat themselves on a funny-looking stage, which looked as if formed by inverting an enormous half-bowl. Present Free School pupils will not be able to see this unique bowl-shape stage -- except in old photographs -- because it has been replaced by a modern but common-place stage.
Punctually at a quarter to eight, the school bell pealed the third time. From somewhere in the middle of the hall came a boyish but assured voice, calling the whole school, including the teachers, to attention. Later I learned that this voice belonged to the school headboy, known in Free School as the School Captain, the highest office and honour that any student could ever hold.
In walked a very distinguished-looking man, a Scotsman, tall, handsome, confident, brisk-walking and with sparkling brown eyes that pierced into your soul. He was Mr Hughes, pronounced as "Hugh" as we were later told by our form teacher -- the last expatriate of the continuous line of "white" headmasters, and the first headmaster who has really left a lasting impression in me.
As soon as Mr Hughes reached his place in the middle of the front stage, the school pianist, a cute girl doing her post-school certificate in Free School, went over to the grand-piano; and as soon as her single signal-note on the piano tailed off, the school sang -- really sang -- the national anthem. Although all these happened more than thirty years ago, I can still recall them vividly. The singing of the national anthem was most impressive and inspiring. It contrasted sharply with the countless times that years later I had the occasions to hear other school assemblies sing -- or, in many cases, mumble -- the national anthem. In Free School we all sang with our heart and soul -- those who hesitated initially were soon drawn in by the pervading exhilarating mood -- and the whole hall resonated with every syllable and tune of "Negara-Ku" melodiously and spiritedly articulated.
After the exuberant singing, as the headmaster and the teachers sat down, the School Captain called the school to stand at ease. But Mr Ambrose did not sit down. Mr Ambrose, who habitually sat at the first chair in the front row on our left, and who was habitually the first teacher to speak in school assemblies, marched swiftly forward and briefed us on cleanliness.
Mr Ambrose used to tell us -- not during school assemblies -- that he was the first teacher to arrive at school every morning at six, and among the last to leave at six in the evening. Mr Ambrose, who is Indian, was our "minister of labour", whose special duty, besides classroom teaching, was to supervise the school's non-academic staff. We were not sure about his claim of staying the whole day in school, but we always found our school compound prim and proper. Nowadays it is common knowledge that getting school gardeners and other workers to do the work they are already paid to do, is not an easy task. Many headmasters -- now usually called school principals -- can certainly learn a trick or two from Mr Ambrose. I did not have the good luck to study under Mr Ambrose, but I admired him, not so much for his six to six dedication to the school, nor for keeping the school compound always clean and tidy, but mainly for giving me the image of a cheerful, energetic teacher.
Then other teachers made their announcements, which were always clear and crisp, generally about the day, time and place of club meetings or game practices. There was no time for any teachers to moralize, administer general advice nor give lengthy speeches. These were the prerogatives of the headmaster in school assemblies. Mr Hughes normally looked around to ascertain that no other teachers would want to speak, before he rose to give his theme address, which was always short but decisive.
"Welcome back to school," he said in that first school assembly of the year 1958, on my first school day in Penang Free School.
"And for those who just join us, those young boys coming to Form One, we welcome you to Penang Free School, the best school east of Suez. You are entering not only the oldest school in the country, but also one of the finest educational traditions any place in the world. I want you to always upkeep this fine tradition. I want you to be always brave and true."
The best school east of Suez. That is Penang Free School. The best school west of Suez, I later learned, is the famous public school of Eton, where Mr Hughes himself came from.
To be always brave and true. That is what old and present Frees always strive to do. Undoubtedly, Penang Free School has a wonderful tradition -- a tradition that can serve as a very beneficial guideline for many other schools to follow. My school experience at Penang Free School, as the following chapters will show, provided me with a lot of opportunities to be brave and true.
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