Chapter 18: Primary Education

In the 1950s, there was no kindergartens. Formal education began with Primary One when a child turned six. Even before I reached that age, I eagerly longed to go to school. At just five years old, I would proudly carried a makeshift school bag filled with old papers and pages torn from calendars. My "classroom" was a quiet spot beneath a jackfruit tree, about 50m from our house. There, I would sit, flipping through the papers and examining the printed numbers on the calendar sheets. After my little ritual of pretend learning, I would pack up my things and head back home.

A typical jackfruit tree

In those days, children were enrolled in either a Chinese-medium or an English-medium primary school. My parents chose the Chinese school route for all their children. I began Primary One at Lok Yuk Chinese Primary School in 1958 when I turned six. At the time, the school was located on Signal Hill, where the Sabah Theological Seminary now stands. 

The school had six classes, one for each year from Primary One to Primary Six, with about 25 students per class. We sat two to a table, sharing a long wooden bench. Since it was a co-educational school, boys were allowed to sit with other boys - at least until Primary Three. That year, our female class teacher decided to change the sitting arrangement: each boy had to sit with a girl. We found this incredibly embarrassing. At that age, girls were like aliens to us - completely unappealing and strange! Some of us even drew dividing lines down the middle of our tables and the benches, warning our new seatmates never to cross them. A breach of that invisible boundary was nearly grounds for war.

The rule was finally lifted in Primary Six when the teacher allowed us to choose our own seats. It felt like a small but significant victory - a perfect way to end our primary school years.

Back then, private tuitions were practically unheard of. The only extra lessons offered were by the school itself, and only Primary Six during afternoons after lunch. This extra class was considered essential, as all Primary Six students had to sit for a government assessment examination in order to proceed to secondary school.

Primary Six was easily the most exciting year of my primary education. As the seniors of the school, we were looked up to as daiko and daije - big brothers and big sisters. The best part of the day was the break between the morning session and the start of afternoon tuition. During that window, we played all sorts of games. For the boys, "police and thieves" was a favourite. Those who played the thieves would hide in the most unexpected places - none better than the thick forest at the base of the hill below our school. 

Some boys were so masterful hiders that they weren't found even by the time classes resumed at 2.00pm. When they finally appeared at 2.15pm or later, they would walk sheepishly into the classroom knowing punishment awaited them. After a stern scolding, they would either be caned on the palm or, if lucky, made to stand for 20 minutes or more before being allowed to sit down again.

I'd be lying if I said that I was never punished. While I managed to avoid trouble most of the time, there was one memorable incident in Primary Six in 1963. Our male English teacher, a young bachelor, seemed particularly friendly with one of the girls in class. One day, I teased her by saying: "The English teacher loves you and wants to marry you!". She was so mortified by the comment that she burst into tear and reported me to our class teacher - who also happened to be the school principal. Needless to say, I was promptly caned on the palm a few times for my mischief.

The high point of my primary school years came in 1963, when North Borneo joined with Sarawak, Singapore and Malaya to form Malaysia. To mark the historic occasion, a grand lantern procession was held in Jesselton town (now Kota Kinabalu). Students from our school made a wide variety of lanterns, the most common being the five-pointed stars. The highlight, however, was a massive school project; a 40-foot-long lantern in the shape of a crocodile. It took about 25 students to carry it through the streets. A few of the stronger boys were assigned the most demanding task - operating the jaw of the crocodile, moving it up and down throughout the entire procession.

In retrospect, my primary school years remain some of the most cherished moments of my childhood.