Attendance:
Evan: ok
Nisha: ok
Dhilshad: ok
Stephanie: ok
Harry: no
Jaclyn: no
Ian: ok
Yuan chang: ok
Ajani: no
Jayne: ok
Avian : ok
Jun wei : no
Elizabeth no
Benjamin: no
Anthea : ok
Ikhsan: ?
Wei Ming: ok
Jin Ru: ?
Hannah: ?
The event itself ended only today, and I’m more than somewhat surprised. To put it very simply, I did not expect things to end the way they did. And to expound the reasons behind this ‘surprise ending’, as it were, I suppose we’ll have to go to the very beginning.
Not too long ago that I cannot remember, I got to know that I was to become an SLO. As with many things in my sorry life, I took this news in with mixed feelings. I was excited at the prospect of meeting new people, while at the same time dreading that very same thing. You see, being a very people-person person really wasn’t my cup of tea. It’s like a social handicap.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve always had problems making fast friends. Heck, it took me five years being around my classmate for him to be a close friend. And it took me more than half a year to realise I had a crush on someone. So why then did I choose to become an SLO?
I’ve been asking that very question ever since the idea of being a part of Pre-U Sem popped up in my head. And still I ask it, even though it’s all but over. And I realise, with tangible frustration, that the answer was never the same each time I asked myself that question.
At the very beginning, it was all about the testimonial. I was banking on an above average showcase of my non-academic endeavours, seeing as my academia was (and still is) nothing to be very proud of. Becoming an SLO was perfect, since those kinds of opportunities knock on the door once every eighteen years. But that answer didn’t satisfy me.
That’s ‘cus I felt this creeping uneasiness every time I imagined doing what SLOs do. It pains me to admit this (it really does), but I actually wanted to become a darn good SLO for my school too. And knowing myself, I got pretty darn scared.
Back in January, when PJC had its first orientation, I was a clan master. I enjoyed that kind of job. Not because it got me a lot of air time (although that was nice) but because I was able to engage many people, while at the same time avoid the awkwardness of speaking to strangers one on one. I gathered that I did okay regularly addressing 200+ people, and even the whole cohort. But I’m certain that I crumbled when trying to address and organise merely a dozen OGLs. That part of council work seemed to be beyond me.
So I got my second answer. I’d become an SLO so that I could make a difference in my school, as well as reduce my social handicap. But even that didn’t fully satisfy me. SLOs had a lot of training in the run up to Pre-U Sem, and during that training I realised I wasn’t that bad at ground leadership (taking the lead with the people on the ground aka the participants). So that threw out the getting a lot better part. I still wanted to make a difference, though. Then it hit me. Revelation! Epiphany!
I really wanted to matter. Undoubtedly a selfish reason, but still. I really wanted to leave my mark, not just with the school, but with the participants as well. I wanted to become an SLO so that at the end of my JC life, I wouldn’t look back and say “Hey, I didn’t make a difference at all to anyone, did I?” Call it the effects of becoming a student councillor. Call it wanting to make up for my personal insecurities. Call it whatever you want. I don’t care. I had my answer.
Then came the event itself. Boy was I in for a surprise.
My SG didn’t cooperate most of the time. Granted, they got to where they were supposed to be on time, if not only marginally late. But that was because my partner and I were constantly rushing them. That was taxing, to say the least. Not just on our voices. Fretting over them drained our hearts to their breaking points. And beyond.
There was this one time, before one of their panel discussions. The group was so late. I had little choice but to tell them to just leave their used plates and cups behind and just enter the auditorium. When they left, and I started cleaning up after them, it hit me: wow, how much lower am I gonna have to sink to get them to just do the right thing? The uneasiness grew when a cluster leader told me after seeing what I was reduced to doing: Why are you doing this? You’re not their slave…
While the participants had their panel discussions, I sat at the spiral staircase and just stoned. Then the other SLOs came along and started complaining about their SGs’ abhorrent lack of punctuality. I thought to myself: is this how all of them are? At that point, I threw out all my SLO training and the negative thoughts just flooded my mind.
Why do we do this? Why do we continuously bother to rush them when all they do is take their time to saunter from one venue to the next? Do we have to beg? I’ve already pleaded with them to just be on time. Do I have to be on my knees and grovel? Do they believe us to be inexhaustible? Incapable of tiredness? Of giving up? How low must we stoop? Are we not trying hard enough?
With all the SLO preparation out the window, I couldn’t take it anymore. I left the SLOs halfway through a briefing, grabbed a napkin, walked up to the stairs leading to the third floor, and let the tears fall. I actually cried, for heaven’s sake. It was just such a disgrace to have to clean up after them in such a fashion. For those few minutes, I actually gave up.
Later, I told my partner about it. I let it out. Told her what I thought. And then she couldn’t take it anymore either. She cried too. That was when we were about to collect the SG after their panel discussion. They should’ve seen how dejected all 80 SLOs were. We were sulking outside the auditorium, the fatigue clearly showing through even the best poker faces among us. Not physical tiredness, mind you. Just an overwhelming sense of loss as to what we did so wrong.
That was easily the worst day of my Pre-U Sem experience.
We told the SG about this, albeit in a very filtered fashion. And we hoped that they would improve. They all did. We were grateful.
Before I continue, please do not be disheartened by this news, beloved SG. Your SLOs were just horribly depressed at that time. And I’ve kinda made impassioned complaining an art form.
Notably, though, that was the only time that I was driven to such an extreme. There were many, many other times that cheered me up; times that made me feel like a content babysitter who had just received a pay cheque. My SG made me happy.
I was very happy to just watch as you guys talked to each other during the meals, and had fun with each other in the lounges. I guess you guys made a huge impression on me, so much so that I didn’t mind not being wholly involved in your leisure activities. You guys have no idea how warm it felt inside when I saw your smiles, even if they weren’t intended for me.
So throughout the event, I asked myself this question: will it be worth it? Will all the stressing out be worth it? I got the answer on the last day.
It was the end. No more nagging. No more rushing. No more sai kang. I was relieved. And then I thought to myself. No more watching them enjoy themselves. No more hearing their laughter. No more warm smiles.
Yes, the event was full of shit-work. It was full of down-times. But all that effort, all that blood, sweat, and even tears… they weren’t for nothing. They weren’t even for us. They were for our SG. WE SLOGGED FOR YOU, BELOVED SG15.
And when we were dragged into the middle of that circle, when we looked at your smiles, when we heard your cheer, we were overwhelmed. It was like a really fast roller coaster ride, with all the ups and downs of the event experience compressed into a time span of 30 seconds. And guess what? The ride had a lot more ups than it had downs. I was tearing, yes. But those were tears of joy.
Please do not discount the significance of this, dear SG. I have not had tears of joy for many years. The last time I had any was way back when I was in Primary 5.
And along with that elation, a sadness kinda worked its way through too. I will miss each and every one of you. It was like saying our final goodbyes. For the first time in weeks, I actually genuinely smiled. None of that plastic imitation of emotion.
That was the surprise. Because throughout the process, a lot of SLOs felt like dying. But in the end, it was all worth it. If I had to keep on rushing you guys for many many months just so I can get a moment of what happened in the exhibition hall, I wouldn’t hesitate to do it.
That’s ‘cus in the end, I realised that the SG was very, very precious to me. And to see them at the end, indelibly changed by their experience, it was a lot to handle.
I love my SG.
