Feet

“I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel” – Maya Angelou.

The teacher’s eyes were filled with anger. She looked at me with a disgusting look. ‘Where did you copy this?’

I stood in front of her silently; I wanted to scream at her that I wrote the essay by myself. But I know she would never trust me because she had personally told me that she hated me because I am Malay. There were another thirty-four pairs of cynical eyes were lingering on each inch of my skin.

The teacher grabbed my hands harshly; I could feel the burning fire in her heart, and another thirty-four envious hearts around me. I stared on the dusty floor and awkwardly I said, ‘I wrote this on my own, my dad helped me with the grammar’.

The flame was getting higher. She looked at me like I am a piece of shit. As I had expected, she tore my essay into pieces, and splashed them right on my face.

‘You, stupid girl! You think I am that blind? There is not a single grammar mistake here!’ The teacher stood up and raised her voice in hoping that the next class would hear her too. Wished that the world would agree with her too. The teacher’s high-pitched and shameless voice struck into my ears, into my brain, ‘Get out!’ she shrieked. I could feel there were thirty-four faces were smiling and gawked at my face in repugnance.

I walked out of the class in pride. I glanced at the teacher, bursting in disgust and I never looked back ever since.

“Feet” by Norwani Wahid, 2000.

I was only fifteen during that time, the time when I lost my respect towards the teachers especially English teachers. Yes, I wrote that essay on my own, I love writing and I worked hard to get my essay error free. My dad helped me with my English and most of the time; I spent hours to write English essays. By repetitions and drills that I received from my dad, I managed to successfully write some English essays. My English was not as perfect as my other classmates, and the teacher that I’ve mentioned above could not tolerate with Malay girls much particularly me. Since the incident, I have never attended her English classes, I would just walked out of the class and she would never even care. As for me, the irresponsible teacher should not be called a teacher. I am taught by my parents to respect my teachers, but sorry, I could never respect her.

I proved her wrong by my PMR results as I obtained 8As. My English results throughout my schooling time were always "A". My father was my English teacher. I would never forgive her for what she had done and today, I proved her wrong again as I am the new generation that would replace her in anytime. I promised to myself when I’ll become a teacher in a few months more, I would never do such a horrible thing to my students. I’ve learned that the teacher of that kind would never be respected. It is hurtful to hate somebody and too bad that I have to hate her.