By Tiger A. Kathirasen (OE70) | FMT-28 May 2023
We remember our teachers, especially those who had an impact on our school life or who left a deep impression on us but not everyone remembers the school head. One reason is that school heads do not teach classes or interact with students as teachers do. But, sometimes, there are headmasters or principals who are so outstanding, so dedicated, so impactful that you can never forget them.
Mr Long Heng Hua of King Edward VII Secondary School (KEVII) is one such person. Mr Long, who served as principal from 1963 to 1982, remains a legend. He was the only principal I knew because I entered Form One in 1966 and finished Form Six in 1972.
He declined promotions,
including that of chief state education officer (today they are known as
directors) so that he could steer KEVII to greater heights. He had earlier
taught English to Abdullah Ahmad Badawi (who later became prime minister and
spoke excellent English) at the Bukit Mertajam High School, and was an author
of several books.
He was the main reason
King Edward VII Secondary School shone in the sixties, seventies and even the
early eighties. He believed that discipline, broad-mindedness, critical
thinking, sports activities, neatness, courteousness, punctuality and a
yearning for learning were important characteristics for success in life.
The disciplinarian was
feared yet respected and liked by all who passed through the classrooms of
KEVII. Almost every student has a tale to tell about Mr Long, and most of them
will include in this tale his famous words: “See me in the office”.
That, of course, meant
his cane had a date with your buttocks. And students whose buttocks had tasted
his cane will recall how democratic he was, for he would ask you to choose the
cane. He had a few canes of varying thickness in his office.
Quite a number of
students who went on to make a name for themselves have tasted his cane. He was
also not averse to giving a public caning to a recalcitrant student.
He was quite innovative.
I remember him getting students to write something – a quotation or some
inspiring words – on a manila card and coming up onto the stage at the school
assembly to show and talk about it. It made students search for appropriate
material, which meant they had to read a lot, and it helped rid them of
shyness. It helped many overcome or at least lower the fear of speaking before
an assembly or crowd.
He pushed us to read and
ensured that we had a well-stocked library. He also ensured we had decent
laboratories for our science classes, and sports equipment too.
He would encourage us to
take up challenges. For instance, in 1971, the New Straits Times organised a
Rukun Negara essay writing competition and he urged students to participate. My
essay won an honourable mention and he proudly announced this at the school
assembly. The organisers presented me with a huge dictionary and a certificate
and Mr Long topped this up with another two books bought with school funds.
I later joined the New
Straits Times as a journalist, serving for 33 years.
While he was firm and
drove the students to excel in both academic studies and sports, Pak Long, as
he was known by everyone, was understanding and compassionate too.
For instance, he would
talk to students individually and impress upon them the importance of
education. I believe these were students who did not realise their own
potentiality or who needed motivation or were unaware of the many challenges in
the adult world. He would also advise students on the choice of university
majors and career prospects.
For instance, he
encouraged and helped a poor Malay office boy to continue his studies while
remaining employed in the school. The youth eventually went to university and
retired as a bank manager.
For instance, he allowed
an Indian student from a very poor family living in a remote area to stay in
the school hostel which was reserved for Malay students. This student later
became a top official at a government teaching hospital in Kuala Lumpur.
Mr Long would roam the
corridors of the school and the moment someone spotted him, the message would
be passed from class to class – often by someone who would ask the teacher to
be allowed to go to the washroom – and everyone would be at his best behaviour,
including, I must add, teachers. I suspect the teachers knew what these boys
were doing as it helped them too.
He would also frequently
stand at the gate to tell late comers to “see me in my office”, usually adding
“during recess”.
If the office boy came
to the class with a note, you knew that someone was in for it. Those who did
badly in term exams would have to see Mr Long and have a chat with his cane.
But if you found the
courage to talk to him, Pak Long would listen to you. Once, the Sixth Form
Society committee decided that a name change to Sixth Form Union was in order.
As society president I was tasked with convincing Mr Long to allow the change.
He listened to my
arguments impassively but without interruption, and then posed a few questions.
To cut to the chase, he disagreed with the proposal. The important fact is that
he gave me his time and considered the suggestion, rather than dismissing it
outright.
I did something naughty
in school which I can never forget: I splashed water on Mr Long.
The school’s current
parent-teacher association chairman Lim Ka Huat never fails to mention this whenever
he introduces me to anyone.
This is what happened.
One Teachers Day, some of us in Form Six began throwing water on each other
using plastic packets and pails as part of the fun.
One of my classmates
challenged me to pour water on Mr Long and I took it up without thinking it
through. I waited with a pail of water and as Mr Long was walking by, I said
“Happy Teachers Day, Sir” – or something to that effect for I can’t recall the
exact words – and emptied half the pail on him.
He tried to ward it off
but his shirt and part of his pants were drenched.
Only after I had poured
the cold water on him did I realise that I was in hot water.
However, he did not say
“see me in my office”. Neither did he show anger or irritation. He laughed and
walked back into his office; and he did not bring up the incident at all at any
time. Later, I realised that he could have taken disciplinary action against me
but did not do so.
I learned important
lessons in leadership that day: You should not be firm or serious always; when
appropriate, you have to go with the flow. I also learned that you must know
when to use your power, and that laughter is better than anger.
I met Mr Long a few times after I started working as a journalist, even
visiting him at his house once, and he was always pleasant although his words
were measured. Once, in the early nineties, he sent me a postcard from Laos
where he was then teaching.
He helped shape me and
countless other students not just by his words (and cane) but also by his
example, and we will be eternally grateful to him for it. He has since passed
on but students still remember him and talk about him whenever they meet.
I’m sure he will be
among the topics of conversation again when old boys meet for the annual
reunion dinner on June 17 at the SSL Traders Hotel in Taiping organised by the
Old Edwardians Association of Malaysia.
Do we still have school
heads like him who went beyond the call of duty to educate their students, and
who knew how to balance firmness and discipline with understanding and care? Do
we still have educators like Mr Long heading schools?
Source: https://www.freemalaysiatoday.com/category/opinion/2023/05/28/long-heng-hua-principal-par-excellence/
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