Thank You, Sir!

On one morning of early January during the LCE year in 1965, the whole class went dead silent. We were waiting for the arrival of  the legendary Mr. Krishnasamy, the most fearsome Maths teacher in the world!

We had already known about his unique style of teaching during our earlier years but I in particular was not very bothered by it, simply because I never like mathematics and never got marks beyond 25%.


His sudden appearance at the entrance of our Form 3A class made us all look like our National Monuments.  His first sermon was that we had to prepare ourselves the Time Tables.  We are to memorize the 2 time table till the 20 time table ( i.e 2×2 =4..to..20×20=400) and he will be asking as spot questions at any time during his class. It was a momentous task for me as I have never memorized anything beyond the 2 time table.

The following day, Mr Krishnasamy would just point out his index finger randomly at us and ask  “16 x 17″.  The first victim whose name I won’t mention. stood up with a blank stare.  No words came out of his mouth except for a spurt of “ayak!”.  Mr Krishnasamy’s fat knuckles just fell on his skull.  The rest of us felt like peeing in our short pants. I don’t really know about the girls. :)   There were times we had thought of placing thumb tacks on our head!

For the whole of that week, there was no football at Speedy Road padang for me. No bicycle ride in town. Imagine I have to sacrifice my evening rides with my usual cycling partner, Kien Lee.  Bicycle rides are important to us in those days because it was the only way to steal glances of the girls at their homes.  Day and night, at home I would spend time drilling and straining my left brain, just to avoid the knuckles.

Then came one unfortunate day.  His index finger pointed at me and asked me “17 x17″.  My blood rushed to my feet and not a drop in the head.  I just could not give an answer at that moment because my mind went blank.  I must have been overwhelmed by fear. I could see the knuckles coming and I couldn’t do anything about it.  He stared at me through his round black rimmed spectacles and said, ” Your father was my teacher!” .  In my mind then, I thought my dad must have had given him a hard time. And was this his sweet revenge?  His knuckles met my cranial bones. The excruciating pain made me able to remember better.  Do you think I dare to tell dad that I had the knuckles?  Do you know what will happen?  Dad would unhesitatingly give me another one!  That was the order of the day.  Unlike in recent time we do hear teachers being sued by prominent lawyers. Students and parents of yester-years were indeed so much different from what you find nowadays.

Our maths book was the green hard cover entitled Durell’s Mathematics Book 3.  Mine was a worn out one, which was handed down from Othman, my brother.  Then came the time of memorizing of  mathematical Theorems.  The drilling was the same.  If you forget, the knuckles will make you remember….forever!

Mr Krishnasamy would also hold saturday classes for technical drawings.  It was held at the canteen. He did it out of sincerity of the highest level. He genuinely wanted us to excel in our studies. I don't think he was paid for the extra work done.

What good had Mr Krishnasamy done to us?  You be the judge.  I, who never pass beyond the 25% mark in Form 1 and Form 2, got an A for LCE, the Lower Certificate of Education.   Now, it’s time for the red hard cover Durells Mathematis Book IV.

All I can say to Mr Krishnasamy is ” THANK YOU, SIR!”