Re-visiting Prince of Wales (PWC)
During a casual pow-wow with a friend, over a glass of wine, last
week we discussed the fate of modern children, the denial of their
childhood and turning them into robots by anxious parents who realise
very little about the psychological damage they inflict on their
offspring.
How poignant it is to see schoolchildren clad in immaculate white
uniforms come on to the roads as early as 7 am these days. Parents of
most of these children place implicit faith on school vans and busses
when it comes to transport of these kids, but many drivers seems to
behave like maniacs sitting behind a steering wheel without paying any
attention to the responsibility they shoulder when young lives are in
their hands?
My friend attended St. Sebastian's College whereas I went to Prince
of Wales College, Moratuwa (until I went abroad after my GCE OL).
Although our two colleges were rivals when it came to cricket, our
friendship has lasted up to this day. During our recent reminiscence on
college-day experiences we compared notes with that of the present day
kids who have no leisure time at all except going to school in the
morning , returning home, doing a quick turn-around, run for tuition
classes and arrive home late completely exhausted mentally and
physically.
Shaggy dog stories
My friend burst into hilarity with some of the anecdotes I dug out
from my Cambrian memories (PWC was knows as Cambrians) and suggested
that I should incorporate those in my column stating it would appeal to
many readers as light reading. Following personal experiences bear no
offence to anyone.
One of the most interesting personalities at PWC was our art teacher
- nick named 'Pacha Maatia' (Bless his soul). Four ft 8 inches tall,
wearing dark glasses, clad in a full white suit and tie, riding a 22"
bike was itself an eye catcher as he had to push one pedal of the
bicycle and wait for the other one to come up as he was too short. Known
as the CID at PWC, he was a character by himself and was notorious for
yarns.
Students who wanted to evade the drawing period used to induce him to
narrate an 'experience from his hunting episodes' about which he always
bragged. Although his shaggy dog stories were beyond any fairy-tale, we
only had one aim - to skip the drawing period.
Beginning every story with the phrase, "Putha", he admitted he was
notorious for being late for anything.
Once he had been asked by his friends to be ready sharp at 6 pm if he
wanted a lift to a party. "Jim, (pseudo name) make sure you are ready on
time , and if you are late, good luck to you', the friend had warned
him.
He said, "Putha, time was already 5.59 and the guys rang the door
bell, I was ready except having to comb my hair. As three of them forced
into my room I rushed combing my hair, but in my second thoughts I
decided to have a glance at the mirror", he said to a roar of laughter
from the boys. "Lord and behold! Would you believe, Putha, I had been
combing my friend's hair who was standing next to me".
Our Latin teacher was a sympathetic man.
Always in a Gabardine suit and tie, he entered the classroom with
half a bottle of arrack concealed in his coat pocket. Once a cheeky
student, who happened to be a grandchild of the Founder of PWC who sat
in the front row covered his nose with a handkerchief and yelled
"Appa....... Ganda"! (Oh gosh the stench). That tickled some students
who could not control laughter.
Infuriated teacher reached one boy and demanded to know why he was
sniggering. In a jiffy his right fist went into piston action on the
student's upper arm while in a chorus the rest of the class echoed
'Ara...!.Ara....!! Ara...!!!". Hopping mad teacher went from one
giggling student to another continuing his piston action while the whole
class echoed ' Ara... Ara... Ara..... ' like a mantra in a rhythmic
fashion. Poor Latin teacher was thereafter nicknamed from that day
onwards as 'Mr. Ara Dasa".
Kindness beyond borders
'Mr. Ara Dasa' had a compassionate heart though despite his
occasional temperamental outbursts especially when students could not
remember how to conjugate Latin verbs. Once prior to a promotion test
one boy was made a scapegoat to approach the Latin master pretending to
be in a sombre mood.
Quite startled by the boy's sniffing, the teacher enquired: "Why son,
what is upsetting you Putha"? Wiping off crocodile tears the student
replied: "Sir, I am going to fail in my Latin in the final exam and my
father will not spare me if I did; if that happens Sir, and I will run
away from home!"
Quite alarmed and overcome by emotion, the master whispered in boy's
ear: "OK son, calm down, there's no need to take such hasty decisions, I
will help you out, but one thing you ought to do is to keep this under
your hat" and handed over a copy of the set question paper to the
student.
Within minutes the whole class knew what to expect at the examination
- needless to say everyone got a distinction pass in Latin.
Unlike degrading ragging what has become an indecorous issue in Sri
Lankan universities at present, it was all a case of innocent and clean
fun during our time that have emerged as bubbling spirit of adolescents.
Our particular unit of students was shifted to 16 different
classrooms during one semester and twice being fined Rs.10 each for the
'loss' of laboratory property which has entered the PWC record book as
the only major ' crime' the boys in our class ever did, for fun !
Interesting and rib tickling episodes will appear in a continuation from
next week onwards.
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