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school, I didn’t like it very much. My memories are dominated by the hot and sweaty bus journeys I had to endure. We didn’t have air-conditioned buses in those days. I had to wake up at 5.00 am every day to ensure that I caught the first bus out of Sembawang by 6.00 am. At that time, the school was located on Bras Basah Road. In all, I had to catch three buses and reached school by 7.20 am.
    Apart from the long travel time, I didn’t like the way the Raffles boys and teachers behaved. Many of the teachers thought they were God’s gift to Singapore’s education system as RI was considered the best school in Singapore. I also found my fellow students overly competitive, arrogant and conceited. I suppose that’s an inevitable outcome when you are constantly told by your family and friends that you are the best or that you have to be the best.
    On my first day at RI, there were many ‘outsiders’ like me in class. A teacher walked in and said: “I am the hockey master for Raffles Institution and all those who have played hockey for their former schools, put your hands up.” I saw many hands up in the air around me. Although I had played hockey for Naval Base School, I kept my hands on the desk. I didn’t want to play hockey or any other sport because of the distance I had to travel each day to school. If I were to play these games, I would have to stay in school for an extra three to four hours before a game. It would have been late in the evening by the time I got home, if I was lucky to catch my buses on time. I also just wanted to concentrate on my studies as I felt that I had wasted one year of my life with the failed experiment in Loyola.
    I thought I’d be left alone after not putting my hand up, but the hockey master recognised me. He had umpired in the district final between Naval Base School and Jurong Secondary School in 1962. You wouldn’t know it looking at me now, but I was noted as a fast, nippy right-winger and the solitary goal that won the final came from the right side. I ran all the way from our own half and centred the ball for the centre forward to score.
    The teacher asked me, “Haven’t you played hockey before for your school?”
    “Yes I have,” I replied.
    “Then why didn’t you put your hand up?”
    I told him I didn’t want to play hockey anymore. Instead of asking me why I was opting not to play, he shouted at me, “Which stupid school gave you this stupid attitude?”
    I didn’t mind being scolded or being called stupid, but I objected very much to someone calling Naval Base School a stupid school. So I told him quietly, “Don’t call my former school stupid.”
    There was absolute silence in the class. He left his books on the table and came marching towards me. For a moment, I thought he was going to hit me and I wish he had because I would have punched him in his face. He said, “What do you want? Tell me, what is it that you want?”
    “I don’t want anything from you, sir. I just don’t want you to call my school stupid.”
    “Well then, get out of my class.”
    I left the class, went to the school library and waited. I thought that would be my punishment, but things did not end there. The hockey master reported me to the senior master, Mr K P John (who later became a client of my firm for a property transaction). I was called in by Mr John to explain what happened in class. I told him the story and about why I didn’t think I could play hockey for the school. He listened patiently. When I had finished, he told me I should not have responded to a teacher in the way I did as it showed a lack of respect. Mr John said he admired my loyalty to my former school and hoped I would show the same loyalty to RI in the years to come.
    He also said that the hockey master was my history teacher and that I had to apologise to him. If I didn’t, the teacher wanted me out of the class. I was quite prepared not to do history, and I told Mr John that I would manage without history.