Inspirational story by the monitor of secondary 1K 2007. Read and be inspired.
Before this week, the word “disillusioned” has been a foreign concept. I never knew what being “illusioned” was in the first place, let alone being described as “disillusioned”. But a turn of my life this week has forced me to use that word on myself.
Not for long. I hope.
Life in Raffles has just picked up pace. Wake up – not always willingly – at six, brush teeth, wash face, reach for and put on uniform, trot down the stairs, half asleep, and finish breakfast. Pick up the bag that was packed the previous evening, pin on the school badge, grab the hand phone and wallet that just don’t seem to be where you’ve left them, and get into the car.
Jam down the roads half an hour to school, then alight at the bus stop outside school. Cut across the Admin Block, pass the roll of honor and the bust of Raffles along the way, then cross Raffles Square and then step into Juniors Block. Climb up three flights of stairs to a morning of lessons, an afternoon of Co-Curricular Activities and then projects and homework at night.
Wake up again tomorrow and guess what – it’s the same routine again.
Various words have been used to describe such a lifestyle. The hectic way of life has been tagged as a bore, a chore and even a sore. Rhyming as they are, these terms concisely portray the bleakness of a day as such, from the viewpoint of a pessimist, a cynic, a satirist or sometimes just an exhausted student. I confess, within the first draining week I may have subconsciously slipped into the latter category.
What pains me, however, is not the fact that I have to endure such trials in the present. It is the prospect of four long year’s right here in RI with the exact same boring routing that can be both a chore and a sore. What’s more, they are followed by dessert – two even longer years in RJC.
But then again, I look at my seniors and what I see leaves me in awe. Each of them bursts with life and vigor, does his push-ups with unequaled energy, eats with unmatched gusto. They find time to squeeze the task of orientating us to the school into that busy timetable which already contains the pangs of Secondary 4 life, and yet each stands upright, with back straight, confident, strong, like that silent statue of the great man which I cross everyday on my way to classes.
What enables them to do this? Is it merely the fact that they have been trained by four years of experience, hardened by the winds and waves of nine subjects and three year-end exams? Is it only the friendly bantering between them and their prevailing sense of humor? Or is it the brief interludes of CCA programs that inject life into their lives?
I believe it is what they call the Rafflesian Spirit, the inner strength that has been induced by the Rafflesian way of life. In Raffles, life is tough, yes. In Raffles, time is short, yes. In Raffles, each passing day brings tasks that add to the to-do lists, yes.
But in Raffles, each day is a development of friendship. In Raffles, each day is an energetic day of intriguing activities. In Raffles, every man does his best for the class, the cohort, the school. In Raffles, optimism rules and class spirit uplifts each weary soul. In Raffles, disillusioning tasks present themselves, but every man toils on, with his heart firmly set on the goal of each process, as if afraid to lose sight of it, but continuing courageously with the hope that seemingly mundane activities will bear fruit, the goal will be reached, the lessons will be learnt, and every man can proudly stride within the portals of the school with the confidence that he has achieved his mission, or will definitely achieve it.
This, I believe, is the Rafflesian Spirit. That fervent hope and comradeship that the Institution Anthem speaks of has the power to unite Rafflesians and encourage them in daily routines, reminding them always that all things have a purpose. This same spirit has the mysterious power to cure that sinking symptom of disillusionment.
Quoting once again from our Anthem: “Come heed the call, Rafflesians all, and let our hearts be stirring. We’ll do our best whate’er the test, and keep our colours flying!”
We live as Rafflesians, die as Rafflesians. Pride the crest of Raffles and honour her name. For she is the one who borne us into young men, young blessed souls emblazoned with power, with courage to grasp the blade and wield it as their destiny; to protect those whom they hold close to their hearts.
slashed at 8:47 PM .
