Simon, its been a week at school.
And heck, its gonna be a whole damned year of this.
Mrs Ng said today, "You survived PSLE, you survived O Levels, and now you can survive A Levels."

Time will tell.

When you walked through the door
It was clear to me
You’re the one they adore, who they came to see
You’re a … rock star
Everybody wants you
Player… Who could really blame you
We're the ones who made you.



Today, we helped Jamie plan the interview questions for Interact AND BOY WAS IT FUN.
"Do you believe that you can converse with stray dogs?"
"Woof woof. Define."

Old Folks Home

All day long they lie on the
straight rows of white beds or sit
in the heavy-duty wheelchairs
pushed out into the breezy sunshine
of the gardens.

Resigned to the prisons
of their own failing bodies,
they drift in and out of the haze
of senility, half-forgetting
themselves in the patient wait
for death.

Still the bright-eyed teenagers come,
on Saturday mornings, by the busloads,
sent by their schools
on compulsory excursions
to learn the meaning
of compassion
as outlined in the ECA syllabus.

They bring gifts of Khong Guan biscuits,
they help to mow the lawns,
they clap their hands performing happy songs
and valiantly they attempt the old dialects
trying to communicate.

Later they will clamber noisily
back up the departing school buses,
and next week in class
they will write startlingly
similar essays
on what a meaningful,
memorable experience they had
at the old folks' home
last week.