This poem is dedicated for the IJ pupils, teachers, cleaners, administration staff, sisters, alumni, security guards, bookshop aunties, food stall owners, principals, parents, founder and God. And whoever else I left out but made a contribution, however minimal, to our school and helped us to make it thus far. Thank You.

Convent of the Holy Infant Jesus, Us

We stood together,
For one last time,
Not one word out of place,
Or a line not resting on the tip of my tongue.

We had dutifully remembered them,
Since the age of six and a half.
I stood among them,
One grain among the sand.

The hall was wide and large,
So different from the one in my past.
We used to stand tight,
Showing our might.
Showing our strength as a school and a nation.

The walls felt different,
Unstained by age.
No memories yet for our days here were light,
Never burdened by the worries of tomorrow.

I saw the teachers,
All straight backed.

Remembering my childhood misadventures.

The scoldings that sometimes brought us shame.

Sometimes were just in vain.

They taught us with patience,

Pride and virtue.

Bestowing each special art.

Each unique flavour,

Giving new vigour,

To a usually dull class.

Each stood out from the rest in one way,

Each coloured my life with foresight.

Each knew the troubles of laziness from their own,

Trying almost in vain each time.

All were different,

Yet somehow the same.

They were caring.

Loving.

Be it the class genius,

Or the slowest to learn,

They taught us with zeal,

While to us they seamed.

To be pillars of homework and stress.

They taught us through deeds,

No matter what our special needs.

Never wavering, though sometimes tiring,

Of the chatter and endless errs in grammar.

My friends I glanced,
Before blinking back tears,
For the memories now were well worked gears.
Each gear acting upon another,
As each vision, sight and taste,
Called forth its brother.

We had shared so many things,
Be it tears or homework answers.
From stories and myths,
To fact and truths.

Then came the person who flowed into my vision.
Our school principal standing near.
I had tears welling now,
For hardly anything besides her stern voice,
Had I bothered to remember about her.

And yet she was there,
Throughout all storms,
Egging us on be it in word or deed or prayer.

I recalled at last a fine school day,
Walking and eating in silence.
She called me to her office,
With me trembling there,
Wondering if I had done something bad.

She sat me down on the chair opposite hers,
A chair of the old school and leather.
She surveyed me intently,
Through eyes and through words,
I was trembling with fear the whole while
She was asking me questions with a smile.

As I look back at the nebulous clouds of time,
Drinking in something as sour as lime.
I realise that she was good and kind,
Asking me questions to find out mine,
Ever ready for me to speak my mind.

Our school had modest beginnings,
A founder who was beatified.
Orphans found homes,
In what would soon be,
A clan of girls with a single motto,
" Simple in Virtue,
Steadfast in Duty"

As I turned my memories over again,
I did not want to leave this school.
So more times to sit and mull,
Together with my companions and peers.

I know somewhere,
Deep down inside.
We are a school even though we are apart.
A school is never a building.
It was never and will never be.
How can you enjoy a structure of cement and brick?

We are the school,
The teachers,
Friends,
Principal,
Cleaners,
Administration staff.
We are;
Different beliefs,
Oceans of minds.

Our vision and love will spread,
Like a small spark on the wood provided by our Heavenly Father.
Be it Jesus, Buddha,
Or other beliefs.

We will never leave,
No matter how many leagues out to sea,
Even if our wrong doings stretch out further than eyes can see.
We will forgive and forget simply because we have met.
Even though we only passed shy glances,
Along the school hallways or in the classes.

We shall always be as one,
Yet different individuals.
As a body is formed by many cells.
Each with their own purpose in life.

Love.
Peace.
Joy.

Tan Yee Choo Annabel
6 Peace. Convent of the Holy Infant Jesus. Our Lady Queen of Peace.
God Bless.