Other Encounters

Someone asked me if there were funny moments I experienced in school. She said that most of the time, when I write, I seemed to be recollecting events which are either sad, or with a lesson to be learnt. Well, the funny moments were too many to count, but I guess what constitutes as hilarious to one person, may be quite 'lame' to another. Laughter is a tricky thing to describe.

But I will try. I apologise to M in advance. I know he will not be too happy if his story is told. It's not 'funny' in that sense, but I can certainly say that the incident I am going to relate is quite interesting and unforgettable.

It was the day before we celebrated Teachers' Day. But it being the end of August, that batch of kids I had were stressed to the max. Mock exam 1 was over, and will be followed by the prelims. Pressure...pressure and more pressure. I had told them that there was no need to even think of TD celebrations. "Focus people...focus..."

As an FT, I was very, very particular about my 'babies'. Ask any of my kids, and they will remember the fusspot who would pick on their hair, their nails, their clothes, their shoes....and I think they toed the line more because nagging is a worse form of punishment than detention. They all have learned the silent signals; a raised eyebrow, a smirk...and oh...they all hate the 'poker-face' look as I stare at their faces, without saying anything. (Hey guys....why is that so uncomfortable?). That morning, as I walked down the row during assembly inspection, I noticed that M was not quite himself. He was rather green.

Anyway, something had made me so annoyed that morning. So they were banished to the old EL room to 'reflect'. Hehe...some form of effective time out. During recess, some of them stayed on for a self-imposed detention. Actually, I know that the room was a nice place to take refuge.

A and N came rushing into the old staff room. I sit nearest to the door, and I detest all that banging. But their faces were white.

"Cher...cher...come quick." N panted.
"Where's the fire?" came my quick retort.

"Cher...please...we are not kidding. M! M! Cher....he's dying!" A grabbed hold of my hand and dragged me out.

Hmm...that was something new. No child had ever grabbed me in such a manner before. Anyway, N too is usually calm and mild-mannered. Something definitely had ruffled his 'relax-lah Cher' composure.

I ran to the room, and saw the reason for their panic. There, flopping on the floor' like a fish, was M. He was clutching his chest, and gasping for air. He was, at that moment, looking like something who was....er...dying?

Don't ask me why I reacted the way I did, or if I knew what I was doing. The immediate concern was M, who needed...? what ? CPR? (er...er..NO WAY!). I reached him and saw that his body was jerky yet stiff. He was truly having difficulties breathing. Instinct I think took over.

He couldn't speak, and this was definitely not an act. I pushed the furniture aside so that he could not hurt himself accidently. I took hold of his hands. His fists were clenched tight.

"M...M...can you hear me? What is wrong?" I tried to get a response from him. No reply. I remember ordering his two other friends to remove his shoes and other forms of tight clothing that may have restricted his breathing.

The situation became comical because of those two. Here, I was, faced with the possibility of having a student die in my arms,...and there were the two 'clowns'. In their panic, they ripped the button of his shirt, and stripped him off his pants. (thank god for boxers). The shoes and socks must have flown somewhere in the room.

To my utter amazement, A burst out crying as he knelt beside his friend.
"M..M..please forgive me for all my wrong-doings". He sobbed uncontrollably. Within seconds, I watched this macho, strapping 17-year old reduced to a wailing baby...

N joined in the ruckus. "Mengucap (declare your faith in God)...please M..mengucap." and promptly recited the declaration out aloud. His tears also started to flow copiously too.

For goodness sake...Were they for real?...No wait...wait...Could they be right?
By then, M was really in trouble. His face had turned blue, and his eyes had rolled far back that the whites were beginning to show. I can't really describe how terrified I felt at that point. I shook him to get a response, and yelled, "Don't you dare die on me! So toot! toot! TOOT! Breathe! Breathe! Breathe!"

Dramatic right?

I think that there was a sensible person around (I do not know who though), who had informed the office. Two other teachers came into the room to see what they could do. Seeing us, Mr L broke into a curse. "Wah...today the teachers all know how to swear one." came a voice from somewhere.

I really would have gladly allowed my 'rescuers' to take charge of the situation. But there came the new predicament. Somehow, in trying to get M to breathe, I had become entangled with him.

Lets see..how can I explain this?
You see, I had tried to unclench his fists earlier. But when I got distracted by N and A, his hands had re-curled, and firmly clamped mine in between. His nerves were taught, and were atrophied...and thus, I cannot be released from his grip. The more I tried, the tighter they became.

So try to imagine...for no words can fully capture the effect of the situation. A's wails were getting loud, and he flung himself on Mr L for comfort. N was in a trance...muttering prayers under his breath. And there I was gripped tightly by a young man, who despite his condition, had a strong hold on me.

Thank god the paramedics had come in. I don't know what ran through their minds. They placed an oxygen mask over M's ashen face. They tried to ask some routine questions, but I couldn't think straight.

"Boy...listen to me...relax...you got to breathe. Easy...easy...Don't fight." urged the medic.

No response. Even with the pure oxygen, M was still struggling.
"Oi...you want to die is it? If you don't breathe on your own, I'll slap your face." barked the other. And to my horror, he momentarily removed the mask and gave M two quick slaps. M gurgled and gasped more. At that point, the tension came to a peak, and I started to cry too.

They had a challenge...They could not release my hands. The vise-like grip was too strong. So they placed M on the stretcher, and carried him out of the room.

"Er...Teacher...you go also." the senior paramedic said.
Duh! What choice do I have? Till today, I am so glad that only one or two colleagues saw me walking awkwardly at an angle. It looked as if I was the hysterical mother, bending over, and clutching her wounded son. The walk to the ambulance seemed forever.

But M seemed to have improved. He was slowly beginning to breathe...though they were quick and noisy. The strict medic bent down to speak to him sharply again.
"Let your teacher go..." he ordered.

Still no response...I wonder if M was conscious or not, as his eyes were closed tightly.

"If you don't let her go...I'll slap you again."
The grip did feel a little looser, but his hands were still strong. So it was another difficult maneouvre up the ambulance.

"Cher...cher...wait...His pants and shoes.." N suddenly called out. His tear-streaked face was dirty. He held out the items and expected me to take them from him.

"Why you all torture your teacher that way eh?" asked the medic as he took the items and placed them at the side. He then slammed the door of the ambulance shut.

I guess it would have been exciting to ride in the ambulance, with full sirens blaring....had it not been for the seriousness of the situation. The strict officer took on a different persona, and he was very efficient had he monitored M's situation. Very gently, he rubbed M's arms...so that at one point, they became relaxed...and when they did, the medic slowly uncurled the fingers that had gripped mine.

I stared at my own fingers. They were white, and there were nail marks at certain point. I could feel the pain shooting up.

"Cikgu...you ok? Don't cry...He will be fine." the medic spoke slowly.

I looked at the man, and then over at M. The colour was slowly returning to his face...and he was able to breathe more regularly.

We arrived at the hospital I think, in less than 10 minutes. M was wheeled to the emergency, and I was told to do the necessary procedures. Within 5 minutes, M's parents appeared, with worried expressions on their faces. Meanwhile, I was shell-shocked...and I could not say anything, expect to shove the pants and shoes into their hands.

To cut the story short, M was fine. The doctor said that it was likely that he was not well earlier, and was running a high fever. Then it got worse when he suffered an anxiety attack. When he panicked, he held his breath. When you don't breathe, your muscles are deprived of oxygen. They harden and get literally stuck in a certain position. That would explain how I became imprisoned by him.

Anyway...I'm a lot smarter now. Why? Cos I have learnt how to react when a child hyperventilate. I will use a plastic or paper bag. The principle behind this is was someone hyperventilates, get him to breathe in carbon monoxide...yes...you got that right...monoxide. This is cause him to choke and automatically, the instinct will force him to take a deep breath of oxygen...

All I have to do...is put the plastic bag...over his head.
Really ? hehehehehe...

Please people...I am getting old...so no more of such excitments ok?
And if I am the one who forgets to breathe...let me be...