https://dunkl.co.at/deposti/11914 Miss Isabel Lau, taught English grammar, at St. Margarets, in the ‘60s.
http://gogirlsmusic.com/?poniker=maneras-de-coquetear-a-un-hombre&7aa=74 Pint sized, she filled the school with a dedication, bordering on tyranny. She was the wizard who could, without opening notebooks, pick out the ones who had done their homework and those who had not. I suspect even the dead, could have smelt the terror on the faces of the miscreants, but the young and guilty, whispered fearfully, that she was blessed with x-ray vision.
go site Not wasting time on denial, she would call out the names of her flower pots, the ones chosen to adorn the corridor outside, always within earshot, never missing line or rhyme. The chronic homework defaulters, the flower pots, who stood for years in the corridors of St. Margarets, excelled at distance learning, with years of practice, perfecting the art of eyes ahead, ears all around.
http://kahraezink.com/?esminwe=como-conocer-a-una-chica-por-el-chat&35f=3c Thanks to Miss Lau, we could précis anything, in sight. We had mastered the art, of shrinking 200 words to 20, without losing its meaning or context. She made us start our own Lexicon, writing down one new word, with its meaning, every day. Every week, without fail, she quizzed us on the 7 new words, that we had learned. Or not learned.
http://melroth.com/?komp=che-cosa-e-autopzioni-binarie&723=6c che cosa e autopzioni binarie There were no short cuts to her good books. There were several to her bad books. An occasional slip of a please or a thank you, was enough to ruin her day and ours.
http://gatehousegallery.co.uk/?myka=trading-opzioni-binarie-topoption&01e=90 Manners …she said …separate us from primitive forms…
Try and be civilised…
You are ambassadors of the school, she said…
http://euromessengers.org/?biodetd=bin%C3%A4re-optionen-spielsucht&212=39 No one took her lightly, no one dared. Her watchful eye missed nothing. Her sharp tongue, spared no one. Favouritism, never featured in her vocabulary. She policed us and bullied us into shape, never far, from the straight and narrow. She could have written the primer on 2001 ways to Detention. Her imagination in detention techniques, was legendary. We spent one afternoon, clearing rubble from the construction site. If a corner needed cleaning, she would shift the detention class to the spot. Nothing we ever did in detention, was ever a wasted exercise. It always involved tidying and cleaning under supervision.
source site On the last day of school, she blew her cover.
Be a good human being,
All else will fall into place…..She said, as she looked out of the window, wiping her glasses with her handkerchief.
To spread light, one could either be the candle ……..or the mirror to the candle.
follow link When she had finished, the class stared back at her hushed, in accustomed awe, totally unprepared for what was to follow. Something quite atypical happened and we nearly fell of our chairs, in shock and disbelief.
source url Miss Lau smiled.
She actually smiled at us. In a flash, the enormity, of what she had done, dawned on us. She had taken us, beyond the past and present tense, to the future, to equip us with skills, to face the challenges ahead. She seemed proud of us. She even looked a little pleased, as if she thought, that we might survive. The feeling was totally alien and quite intoxicating. Throwing caution to the winds, we smiled tentatively back at her and took the memory, of that afternoon, home with us.
I do not know, when the transition from teacher, to friend happened. It was subtle and never chalked. But I do know, that she continued to follow our careers and lives with pride, to remember us all by name and performance on her grammar scale. She never forgot us.
When I got married in 1971, she was on Chemotherapy. When I walked down the aisle at Christ Church, on Sam’s arm, Miss Lau’s , was one of the first smiling faces that I saw. She reached out to hold my hand, for a brief moment and I could have sworn, she whispered Flower Pot. I moved on and out of Singapore, but I never forgot Miss Lau.
A cheongsam clad, gutsy, power packed, little lady continues to pop out of the pages of my life, a continent, a millennium away. A mental rap on the knuckles, vintage regardless, still spells Miss Lau.
We were her Pygmalion.