By Y.S. LIM
STARING sadly at an old photo of his father, Kent’s memories flashed back to his early teens, when he learnt a most invaluable lesson about life.
Kent used to return home from school with a bored look on his face. For some time now, his dad, a single parent, had noticed his waning interest in his studies. But he feigned ignorance and always appeared to be his usual busy self, working hard to make sure there was enough food on the table at the end of each day.
After completing his Year Six examination, Kent seemed to lose interest in school completely.
He started hanging out with a few dropouts who lived nearby. Just so that he would be accepted into their circle, he smoked, raced around on motorbikes and was involved in mischievous acts.
Kent knew what he was doing was wrong. He knew the consequences of mixing with the wrong company but, somehow, he lacked the will to break free from his friends.
Many a time, he would catch a look of disappointment on dad’s face. Etched deeply on that same face were lines of worry which he had not noticed before.
One day, over dinner, dad casually asked about his studies. Kent said nonchalantly, “So, so, dad.” His father nodded, then said: “Next week is the mid-term break. There’s lots to do at my office and I really could use some help. Please?”
Dad’s pleading look was too much for Kent. With downcast eyes, he reluctantly said yes.
The first Monday of the school vacation saw Kent waking up at 5am. After a hurried wash, he jumped on dad’s old bike and rode pillion to his work place.
They arrived 30 at the warehouse minutes later and he helped dad unlock the main gate, open all the doors and windows, and switch on the lights. After disposing all the rubbish from the previous day, they swept and vacuumed the various offices within the premises. It was 6.30 before they managed to sit down for a cup of coffee.
Half an hour later, before the workers started coming in, the pair had to sort out endless files and mail. This was followed by errands – they had to deliver invoices, bills, receipts and goods.
Their day ended at 5pm, but father and son were the last to leave. They had to ensure everything was in order and securely locked up before braving the rush-hour traffic home. After a shower and dinner – take-away, of course – they were off again, headed towards a school 5km away, where Kent’s dad worked as the night guard.
The morning shift guard came in at 4.45. By then, father and son barely had time to go home and clean up before starting the new day’s routine all over again.
After following dad on this hectic rounds for six days, Kent was a spent force. As far as he could remember, these were the longest days of his life.
At the end of the week, while preparing to turn in for the night, Kent’s dad said to him: “Son, if you think school is boring, you have 30 years of my kind of life to look forward to.”
That hit Kent like a bolt. It was a wake-up call for the 13-year-old.
From that day onwards, never once did Kent falter in his school work. Eventually, he made it to university and got a job that was quite different from dad’s.
Clutching the photo to his chest, Kent whispered: “Dad, I salute you for being my friend, my father, and, most of all, for being a great teacher.”
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