Oh God, Not Another Blog Post About High School

by Syed Amierul Asyraf



Approximately ten minutes ago at the time of writing, Nisa, one of my oldest and best friends posted a video on our high school, SMK Batu Lintang on her Facebook feed.

Amierul's note: Wait. So it's a Facebook post, on her profile, which I can access on my feed? If it were any other system this might not have latched onto billions of users so easily. Kudos to you, Zuck.

I clicked on the video and before it could load completely, I closed it. Perhaps I am in a state of denial, but I really do not want to think about my memories back in high school. The same can be said about my time in Swinburne-- I will never be caught waxing lyrical about my time there.

Given that ten years have passed, I think I am eligible enough to give a few reasons why.

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Well, there are many reasons why one would wish to look at the past with rose-tinted glasses. Maybe the past was traumatic for them. Let's face it-- for some people high school can be the absolute worst time of the lives. For those who did not bother to try to fit into societal norms or had decided very early on to seek growth outside a government-ordained structure, having to spend six, seven hours in a classroom, five days a week for five straight years would have been absolute hell.

Oddly enough, back in high school these were the best people to hang out with. In a place where everyone pretty much had to go through similar life events, having a conversation with an outlier who had better priorities outside school was a favourite of mine. There were no shortage of topics to discuss, ranging all the way from motorcycle maintenance, electric guitar maintenance to where to get counterfeit booze and cigarettes.

Based on my obviously amateurish observations, these friends of mine ended up being very well adjusted to life after school. The lack of structure was decidedly welcome-- more time for them to express themselves in ways that they deem to matter the most. A good number of them end up starting a business before turning twenty, and have started families on their own way before the rest of us can figure out which of our significant others' appendages we shouldn't touch in public.

These friends of mine quickly learned that their destinies are tied to their immediate surrounding environment, and adaptation to wildly changing circumstances is key. If she were also paired with the right set of circumstances, such as a supporting family and sought education through other channels such as apprenticeships or by surviving the employment landscape from the very rung of its ladder, she is most likely to be doing pretty well.

I think it goes without saying that according to society's typical benchmark for success in twenty-somethings, my schoolmates who did the best are triad members.

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Others might not remember too fondly on the impact of secondary school education on their lives, if only for the fact that they were pretty calculating, practical motherfuckers. These schoolmates of mine came from the best classes, and would always do amazingly well in every subject. Trust me, if our school syllabus covered 18th-century German agricultural policies instead of biology for some weird inexplicable reason, these guys would *crush* the subject in record time.

These were the same schoolmates who would never show up for Sports Day, or took up the least time-consuming co-curricular activity. Unsurprisingly, after SPM these people would vanish like thin air, having fully utilised the school system like a bunch of 18th century German farmers.

While these people do share the underlying philosophy with the earlier group I mentioned, they differed in how said philosophy is executed.

Well, I don't really think of these classmates that fondly, if only because their psyche was such that school was just a place to soak up information and leave. To them, high school was just a vessel, and the best way to really stick it to the establishment would be to strap said vessel with their JPA scholarships and blast off to a better future outside the country.

Also unsurprisingly, these are the people who also did very well in college, went overseas and achieved enough by now to enjoy fulfilling lives where they are treated better, and matter more as highly productive, high-skilled immigrants.

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Who can blame these two groups, really? If only our school system was tailored based on each individual's growth, talents and interests all of us would probably be enjoying our school reunion in a poorly-lit hall right now, singing our school songs and wearing our old school vests.

Here's a surprise-- I don't belong in any of these groups. I actually loved high school.

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I should have known better.

As much as I rebelled in any way I can back in 5A, SMK Batu Lintang back in 2005, I enjoyed my time there. While I hated following rules for the sake of following rules (what's the worst that could happen, really if I didn't tuck in my shirt), I had enough friends from all walks of life to always head back home with a story to tell and something to learn. Sure, some days were awkward and I also had some regrettable moments, but those were just patches in a blindingly optimistic pastiche of a well-made quilt that makes up my soul.

Once, I had a friend whose parents passed away in an accident. One afternoon, we sat together inside the school's empty hall lost in our conversations when we ended up wondering who was supposed to sign her report card on her deceased parents' behalf. I, who for the first time found out how my foot tasted once shoved into my mouth, actually suggested that she could just forge her dad's signature to scare away the principal. We ended up talking about how easy life would be if we could just forge signatures for a living.

I wasn't the brightest lightbulb in my class, so I made up for it with sheer noise. Cue the puzzled look from my former co-workers or current friends. Yes, once upon a time I was the loudest guy in class, always seemingly with something to talk about. I knew when to keep quiet though-- I would never say a word in my History class because I would always end up taking a quick nap or two. On any given day, I would have different classmates wake me up right before our History teacher lost her patience. The fact that she was also the school's Penolong Kanan didn't help matters too much.

Because my class was full of go-getters, I ended up having to seek friends in other classes, floors and even blocks. This was indirectly my first brush with the art of politicking, as I would steer from one class to another and listen to one new friend, instigate an argument with another and generally having a good time. The best part was, I actually did okay in my SPM. I didn't really do well enough to get a full scholarship to an Ivy League school, but a partial scholarship plus zero percent study loan to study in Swinburne was in its own way, a good enough consolation prize.

In hindsight (which always works well), I should have adopted any of these two mindsets. I should have treated high school the way Brock Lesnar treats his fellow WWE compatriots. Come to school, German suplex the curriculum to submission and leave.

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I think, because I had decided early on that I could learn more about life from my friends in school than actually studying, life in high school was for me very purposeful.

Life in SMK Batu Lintang had meaning.

I didn't adjust well to life after school. I have had my share of ups and downs, and I have grown accustomed to failures both personally and professionally. Apparently failure tastes a lot like feet. It's salty, and depending on where you step on prior to having it in your mouth, might have little traces of shit.

Perhaps compared to others my situation isn't really that bad, but this is more about how well-adjusted I am to consequences. When you live life strongly believing in the seductively naive tenets of equating happiness with success, failure is best experienced alone and the acceptance that people come into your life on a revolving door policy, you would need more time than others to get back on your feet.

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Right now, I am currently working on several unpaid commitments, which will hopefully bode well for my personal and professional growth. While I am getting fonder with my nephews and nieces, the mere thought of dating makes me want to throw up. On the nights I have no friends to talk to, I either roughhouse my brothers in their room, shit on Indonesian movies with my mom or shit on Arsenal with my dad. As much as I am grateful that my plan to treat this year as a halfway house is working well, I do miss going out there with a clear sense of belonging and purpose.

As I write this, I sit in my room still wondering if I should leave a comment on Nisa's post on Facebook. I perhaps should, considering how rude it is to not respond to a post with your name tagged on it. In its own way, this is like having to reminisce an old relationship (ten points for irony there). Well, let's go the distance and see through the logical end of this by writing a comment I won't leave on Facebook.

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Here goes:

To all the friends I have made in high school, thanks for such a wonderful time and for such great lessons. I may apply this word a little too liberally, but I love all of you. Trust me when I say I'd actually take a visible pause and consider going on a limb just to help you guys out with anything you need.

While I loved my time there, please give me all the love you can give so I am able to focus on where I stand right now. The past ten years have been quite a painstaking journey, and to where only God knows, but if high school taught us anything it's how to soldier on, day in and day out. High school was fun, but I want to be able to say that life, overall has been even more awesome.

On a side note, can someone please tell me how to load the video properly on mobile? The website is taking longer to load than a Coursera video on 18th-century German farming equipment.