A Day in Life of A Secondary Student

An old story that I wrote in secondary four. It was originally written on a piece of paper, but my good friend, Alicia_D_dreamer, typed them out for me. special thanks for you, honey!

It was another normal day at the secondary four classroom, where the girls chirped and chattered each other, while the rest were taking their own peaceful time copying each other’s homework. One of the students told the others not to remind Ms Ahlyn, the mathematics teacher, about the homework she gave so he may not submit the work to her that day. The morning continues nicely, before a loud bang echoed around the room. The teacher was here.

Mr Dinesh Bakshi, the class’ form teacher, stood proud at the door. He then took his first step into the room, and the class immediately fell silent. The girls stumbled their way back to their chairs, while the boys quickly hid their copied homework.

“The devil has fallen upon our class,” everyone thought.

The Indian made his way towards the teacher’s table. The table was a cheap furniture that was constantly abused by the students and was made of triplex. The man sat down and put his laptop on the wooden table. The students were silent in fear of ‘the basher’. It took the man a while before he opened the absenties list and began asking the students: “Who was absent yesterday?”

Dumbstruck, the students in the front row kept their mouths shut. As Bakshi kept eyeing the students, saying “Come on, tell me” in his outrageous way, a girl began to speak.

“Well, sir... Davira was the only one absent yesterday,” she smoothly answered. Satisfied, the annoying man began ticking his list. Unfortunately, one of the students under the female species got curious. She made up her mind and began her question to the teacher.

“Sir, why are you doing yesterday’s absentees today?” Samantha, the curious one, asked. The devil teacher immediately snapped his poor red pen into two pieces.

The Indian lifted his eyes from the absenties list towards Samantha. His panda eyes filled with rage. The watered eyes, due to staring at the laptop screen for too long, caught Samantha’s eyes. The action made Samantha cowers in fear, even though she knew ‘the basher’ would never do anything physically to her.

The teacher did not answer after a while, probably too awestruck because he had no answer to the question. Fearing that his pride will be tainted, the man replied;

“Why are you asking such mindless questions? It is just so useless that you are not supposed to ask such stupid questions to me,” he said. His voice was filled with irritation and pride.

Dinesh Bakshi, favourably known as ‘Bakshit’ to some students, stood up. He then made his way out of the room with loud stamps, as he mumbled to himself.

The whole class was left very dumbstruck.

Taking the opportunity that no teachers were supervising, the class once again began their chirping.

“What’s up with Bakshi?”

“Is he having PMS or something?”

While the others were busy asking why the antagonist-like teacher was so sensitive, one girl approached Samantha.

“Hey, why was he like that? I think it was a good question!” The girl made her comment.

“I have no idea why, Fania” Samantha replied.

“I think he has no answer to her question, or maybe he does, but if he replied with his answer, it would severely wound his pride” Alicia said.

The three girls began to giggle at each other. Sadly their time was cut short as their next subject teacher was here.

---

Bakshi stomped all the way to the secondary staff room. He opened the staffroom door in a loud ‘bang’. The teachers in the staffroom were surprised finding the business teacher angry. One of his colleagues, Mrs. Bagyam was the first to ask him.

“What happened?” she said in a very Indian accent. The man did no reply, but continued making his way towards his table. He then placed his laptop gently, contradicting what he was feeling right now.

Well, he couldn’t have thrown it on the table, right? It’s one of his fixed assets, right? He sat down and rammed his elbow on the table. Leaning cheek on his hand, Bakshi frowned.

The teachers cared no more about him and left him on his own. Meenal, another teacher in the staff room, approached Bakshi. Trying to comfort her husband, Meenal made a cup of coffee and was about to give it to him…

Before the cup slipped out of her hands and fell upon Bakshi’s laptop. The world around the man crumbled as the liquid invaded the laptop’s system. It seeped though the ventilation gap, short circuiting the battery and destroying the whole motherboard.

Bakshi’s jaw dropped as he opened his mouth and said “Noooo! My already depreciated fixed asset!!!” He fell into a desperate daze.

Meenal tried to wipe the coffee off, but it was too late. The coffee dribbled its way to Bakshi’s pants.

“Ouch! Hot! Hot!” Dinesh snapped out of his daze. He then realized that the hot coffee had soaked his pink pants with a big brown spot on his right thigh.

“My new Hugo Boss Paaaaaaants!” He shouted, before he felt another shot of pain from the hot temperature. The simultaneous feelings of disappointment and pain streamed through his system as he continued shouting.

On the other side of the room, Bagyam stood up. The time indicated that she needed to go to the next class.

The secondary fours...

---

Back to the secondary four classroom. Five students of the be-cursed additional math class dug for their books. Everyone was hoping that the class would be over soon- even though the hell class had barely started.

Everyone tripped down the stairs and stumbled to the maths room. Just when they first stepped upon the room, there stood Bagyam. The stench of ‘Bawang’* immediately invaded their noses. (*Bawang are Onions to be precise)

“You are late by 10 minutes,” Bagyam declared. The five students froze on their chairs.

“B…b…but the previous teacher dismissed us late…”one student timidly answered.

“And our clock is slower than the one in this class,” another supported. The rest nodded vigorously, agreeing to the two other students.

“Stop making excuses!” Bagyam interrupted immediately before anyone could say anything further. “Making excuses will never help you.”

The two students shrunk on their seat, as the other three sat still. Bagyam then began flipping her file and asked the class. "So, up until where did we correct yesterday?"

The class stared at each other as Fania, one of the two girls in the class, replied. "Paper 1, May/June 2008, miss...We're only half done with it."

Sadly, as her friend, Alicia, only did the paper again yesterday, Fania took pity. Fania then raised her hand and began: "But Alicia just did the paper again, so could she correct it?"

Bagyam could feel a twitch in her nerve. She then replied in irritation: "You don't concern yourself with Alicia. She has a different story, okay?"

Annoyed as the teacher replied her question like the, Fania frowned. Bagyam then made her way to the class computer to project the answer sheet to the connected projector. Bagyam then seemed to remember something and she began again.

“You know, the secondary fours are always making trouble in the maths room. Yesterday the wires were everywhere you know!” she confessed. “The mouse of the class computer was on the floor like this you know!” she said as she lifted the mouse and place them on her hands upside down before placing them back on the table. “And the IT guy was trying to assemble the whole thing out for more than an hour.” She said as she shook her head like how Indians do when they speak.

Alicia, being a good student, felt responsible as she was the one unplugging one wire that connected the projector to her laptop. Faris, being an IT freak, felt a tickle on his stomach as it sounded silly for the IT people to take one whole hour to assemble the cable. He knew Alicia only unplugged one cable. Well, he was the one helping her… Well, plugging only one cable won't take one whole hour to reassemble right?

But everyone already knew…Bagyam was exaggerating.

---

It was lunch time. Students rushed out of their class to the canteen. And back in the secondary fours, there was Fania and Alicia. Unscrewing the caps of their flasks, the two continued chatting.

“You know what, the whole Additional Maths class is just useless! We didn’t do a single thing!” Fania desperately said as she chowed down another spoon of her beloved rice. Sadly, the only reply that Fania could squeeze out of Alicia was just a mere sigh. It seems that Alicia was too much occupied with her lunch.

“And guess what? Its Business time for our last period!!! Business!!! Can you believe it?! Bakshi time! ” Fania desperately tried to get Alicia to reply her. For a moment, it seemed that the veil lifted from her unresponsiveness. Alicia replied, “Oh no! Not Business!”

Fania immediately beamed with happiness and excitement.

Her hard work had paid off…

Author's Note

Ignore bad grammars... I'M SUPER BAD AT IT...
And a little racist too... maybe? (9v9);;;

Notes from Alicia_D_dreamer:
A mini masterpiece, written by Manmannikuman
Found in a file and converted to digital by Alicia_D_dreamer

Warning: This is for reading pleasure and diaphragm exercise only.
Caution: Do not laugh too loud and wake the neighbours.
Extra precaution: Please do not let any teacher see this or the writer and the typist will be in trouble.

Reviews

[The_Dreamer]

Today is the 2nd of March 2011, almost 9 months since this story was first published, and roughly one and a half years when this story was written. Even after so long, I could not help but burst with stifled, uncontrollable laughter when I read this!!!

The passage that invoked a spontaneous diaphragm exercise? Here it is:

“Noooo! My already depreciated fixed asset!!!” He fell into a desperate daze.
The coffee dribbled its way to Bakshi’s pants.

“Ouch! Hot! Hot!”


As well as this:
“My new Hugo Boss Paaaaaaants!”


Absolutely ridiculous, but hilariously funny anyway :)