I reach out for it, prop it on my lap and start flipping through. These were the certificates I started collecting way back when I was in primary school, while my hair was up in pig tails.
As I was flipping through, my mind brought me back to each and every event that was behind every certificate. That's when I realized that most of my certificates was due to my active participation in English associated events - Choral Speaking, Spelling Bee, Talent Show.
With all that was swirling around in my mind, I wondered and dove deeper in thought. My mind hit fast backward and I was brought all the way back to when I first started to learn Grammar. And to whom I had the honourable pleasure to have as my teacher- Grandpa.
He would have at least 5 different English books laid out in front of him, and he would insist that I give him my undivided attention for 2 hours everyday. He would break down Grammar into it's simplest form for me to understand, explain the definition of a noun and an adjective and how they are supposed to be used, guide me in constructing sentences... there would always be something new for me to learn.
He was the kind of man who didn't take bullshit - it's either you learn now or never, no if's but's and maybe's. He would make me kneel in the corner if I did not know my timetables by hard. He would shout and complain like a grumpy old pot over the littlest thing- most of the time, just for the sake of it. But apart from his lack of being understanding and composed, he was a provider and good man at heart. And so I didn't mind.
I also didn't mind because at the end of each day, I learned something. I learned how to speak fluent English, without being influenced by the "rojak" infused language I am often up against. I learned how to write and love reading books. Through him, I even learned how to play the piano and solve mathematical questions.
And in the end, the reason behind all the hard-earned certificates was him - my Grandpa. I flipp through and scan my certificates once again and all that comes to mind is how grateful I am to him... for everything.
He was the kind of man who didn't take bullshit - it's either you learn now or never, no if's but's and maybe's. He would make me kneel in the corner if I did not know my timetables by hard. He would shout and complain like a grumpy old pot over the littlest thing- most of the time, just for the sake of it. But apart from his lack of being understanding and composed, he was a provider and good man at heart. And so I didn't mind.
I also didn't mind because at the end of each day, I learned something. I learned how to speak fluent English, without being influenced by the "rojak" infused language I am often up against. I learned how to write and love reading books. Through him, I even learned how to play the piano and solve mathematical questions.
And in the end, the reason behind all the hard-earned certificates was him - my Grandpa. I flipp through and scan my certificates once again and all that comes to mind is how grateful I am to him... for everything.
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