I know that this introduction is very common and generally used by students when writing

essays, but right now it is the only sentence I could think of, right this moment, that is everyone has a
life of his and her own. Even though life can be such a mundane thing and I do not dispute that like
could sometimes be so harsh and stressful. But there are still a few things that I like about my life.

I could remember precisely the day my PT3 examination results came out. I was really enjoying
my school holidays and much water had flowed under the bridge without me realising that the day
that I abhor most has finally made its way into my life to torture and torment me. All day I have been
sitting around the house acting like a psychopath with my heart filled with agitation just thinking about
how I would survive in the future if I did not pass this important examination with flying colours and
would obtain straight A’s on par with my brother’s brilliant achievement. My father really made me
nervous. The suspense aroused made me tense and I cried my heart out on the way to school. As I
reached the school office, I could see a few of my friends screaming and leaping up and down gleefully
as they had obtained good results. I approached the table where my class teacher was seated with all
the slips in her hands. As I approached, my body was suddenly shaking tremendously and I could feel
that my heart was beating very hard. When my teacher handed me the slip, I could feel cold sweat
dripping from my forehead and my heartbeat suddenly stopped. I opened my slip and to my utter
surprise obtained straight A’s in my examination. With a shriek of joy, I hugged my teacher and joined
my friends. I had never felt so happy and delirious in my entire life. When I got to my father’s car, he
was waiting anxiously for me behind the wheel. I could feel the adrenaline surging through by body
and I cried the tears of happiness as I told him the good news. I felt so overjoyed and pleased with my
success and this kind of success is really one of the things that I like about my life.

Apart from my success, the other things that I really like most about my like is the love and
attention I get from my family. My family is very caring and loveable. My father is the person whom I
really love and I feel much closer to him than my mother and I could tell father all my problems and
absolutely not my inner most secret. Who would tell their parents about their secrets? Anyway my
father is the most wonderful person in the world. I could still remember the time when I was stressed
out with my studies that I felt so hopeless and my sprits came tumbling down and it was my father
and also my family who were always there to support me, to comfort me and give me the
encouragement to work hard to achieve my dreams. Since then, my father became my personal tutor
in all my subjects especially mathematics. He would come home early from work whenever he could
help me out and gave me advice on how to study smart and also effectively. He also taught me some
of his money to buy all the necessary stationery and books for me and my siblings. Even my older
brother helps me out sometimes during the school holidays. I really love my family and they are very
precious to me.

The other thing that I really like about my life is my wide range of key-chain collection. I
collected all these key-chains from all over the places that I have visited and even from overseas. I love
to collect these key-chains because sometimes, they have such unique designs and are very artistic
and lovely. Whenever I look at my collection, it gives me the satisfaction and thrill to know that I have
visited all of these countries and it brings back memories when my family and I spent the holidays
travelling to other countries together. From all the key-chains I owned, I really love one that has my
name engraved on it with such a beautiful design. I bought this special key-chain in Vancouver, Canada
and whenever I look at it, it brings back the memory of my little sister and I arguing about who would
get the cutest ones. Looking at the wonderful collections helps to release my tension and it gives me
a sense of serenity and tranquillity.

I supposed that it is all I have to say about the things that I like about my life and I hope that I
will lead a very happy and un-stressful like in the future like the one I am having now.
 The Bomb

Five minutes … There were five minutes left before the bomb went off. I struggled with the
ropes around my wrist and felt it loosening, but there was still two dead knows to untie before my
hands were free. The clock on the wall ticked loudly to the rhythm of my heart. As drops of perspiration
slowly trickled down my face, I could see the sun setting slowing through the windows as my doom
slowly approached. I should not have trusted those strangers otherwise, I would not be in this hot
soup.

That very morning, two men came to my house claiming to be business associates of my
father. They managed to convince me that my father had invited them over to discuss a deal with
them over lunch at my house and I let them in. this was to be my biggest mistake as the moment these
so-called business associates entered my house, they grabbed hold of me and tied me up. There was
not anyone in the house and as my neighbour had gone out, there was apparently no one to answer
my pleas for help. “Now his son shall pay for what he did to us!” said one of the men as they dragged
me out of the house into a van where another man was waiting.

The ride was uncomfortable and bumpy as I was thrown about in the van as it swerved and
turned during the journey. Finally, the van came to a skidding half in front of an old dilapidated
building. The winds moaned as it blew through the broken windows as though welcoming me on my
way to death. The three brutes dragged me into the crumbling building, up the creaky stairs and into
an empty room. One of them took out a mechanism which I soon figured out to be a bomb and set it
to five minutes. “Your father had fired us from our jobs and now you shall pay for what he did but
don’t worry, it will be over in five minutes! Ha! Ha! Ha!” laughed one of the men as they walked out
of the room.

I looked around the room for the last time as the room darkened by the second, hoping to
spot something which could get me out of the blinding grasp of the ropes. But all I could see were four
bare walls, a big wooden door and a window just big enough for me to see the day being slowly
enveloped by the darkness. I was about to give up when a small shiny object caught my attention.

From the corner of my eyes, I could see a pair of scissors lying at the corner of the room. I
managed to crawl over and get hold of the pair of scissors. Without much difficulty, I cut the ropes
and freed myself. I looked at the timer and there were two minutes before the bomb would go off. I
rushed to the door to open it but it would not bulge. I wanted to jump out of the window but as I did
not want to end my life even more quickly by jumping out from the forth storey, I did not.

My only resort was to defuse the bomb. I looked at the ticking mechanism on which there
were two wires connecting the timer to the dynamite; one of which was blue and the other was red.
My intuition told me by cutting one of the wires would lead me to my survival while the other one
would simply blow me to smithereens. I soon came to the conclusion to cut the blue wire for it was
my favourite colour and because red usually stood for danger.

I looked at the clock again and there was only a minute left before the wretched thing blew
up everything within the vicinity, including me. As my hands slowly approached the wire, my hands
trembled but just before I closed the mouth of the scissors, I withdrew the scissors away. It landed
with a loud clatter on the ground on the very spot where I found it.

I wanted to let bomb just blow me away for I could not pick up the courage to cut the wire.
Just then, I remembered what my dad used today, “If you think it is the right choice, then just do it.
Have confidence in yourself.” So I picked up the scissors, placed it over the wire and closed the scissors.
I closed my eyes and braced myself for the impact as the scissors went, “Snap!”

I opened my left eye and then my right. There was not any explosion of any sort but just the
cool breeze which had just blew in through the window. The sun had set and the moon had just begun
its journey to the other end of the sky. All was quiet. The reading on the timer read one second when
the clock struck seven, as though celebrating my victory over death. The danger was over.

I wiped the sweat off my weary face and heaved a sigh of relief. I looked around for means of
getting out of the room. I decided to try and break the door down for the last time. I took a deep
breath, ran a few steps and flung myself at the door. Suddenly the door opened and I found myself on
the floor outside the room.

I looked up slowly and saw some familiar faces. To my surprise, standing around me were my
parents and couple of policemen. After they helped me up, I found out from them how they tracked
down and found the place. What a close shave!
 Revenge

Ah Mui had put up with his obnoxious ways for twenty-five years. Her marriage was her
destiny, she had said with resignation. But as she looked at him, snoring loudly through a gap that
often spat abuse at her, she felt an overwhelming desire to stuff the duster she was holding into it.

There seemed to be a voice urging Ah Mui on, urging her to stuff the duster into his mouth.
The voice was decisive and certain, and it kept ringing in her ears. Her mind knew it was wrong but
her hands did not. Slowly, a pair of obedient hands grabbing the duster crept into his mouth.

It was a matter of seconds before it was done. His face turned purple. He tried to cough but
he could not. He choked on the duster. Then, he lay there, lifeless, lips a dark shade of purple.

It was the first time in Ah Mui’s life that she felt ecstatic. She was trembling all over, not with
fear and guilt but with excitement. At last, she was freed from the iron cage. For twenty years, she
had been a helpless bird in captivity and the subject of insult. Ah Mui eyed her husband gleefully and
let out a bitter laugh. The years of abuse came flooding back to her.

Every night, her husband would come back home stinking of beer and smoke. He was drunk
always. When he stepped into the house, he would scream and shout for no reason. Then he would
demand for his dinner. As he ate, he would try to find fault with Ah Mui’s cooking. Sometimes, he
would grab her by the hair and slam her against the fridge. He would also slap and punch her viciously.
Ah Mui was completely helpless and all she could do was scream in agony.

Occasionally, her husband would bring back some friends and play mah-jong. Those friends
were total gangsters who cursed and shouted all the time. On one occasion, Ah Mui’s husband decided
not to gamble with money. Instead the winner would be entitled to slap Ah Mui on the face. His
sadistic friends enjoyed every moment of it. Poor Ah Mui became a human punching bag.

For twenty years, she had lived with a monster. She dared not complain to anyone for fear a
terrible thrashing. She kept mum about the torturous beatings and ended up a battered doll.

Ah Mui wiped a tear from her wrinkled face. The torture ended. However, she must not let
the police know that she was the killer. Ah Mui pulled the duster out of his mouth. It did not budge.
She tried again, this time with more strength. She succeeded. She noticed that the duster had fewer
feathers than before, but she did not care as there was no visible signs that the feather duster had
been a murder weapon.

Ah Mui picked up the phone and dialled for the police. She reported the murder in a very sad
voice. The operator promised to send a team immediately. Ah Mui hung up and waited patiently. Every
now and then, she smiled.

In a few minutes, the police arrived. On seeing them, Ah Mui cried sorrowfully. These were
tears of being abused, not tears of love and sympathy. The policemen consoled Ah Mui and asked her
to recount what happened.

In a shaky voice, she replied, “I was dusting the house and my husband was sleeping soundly.
After a while, I went to him to wake him up. But he lay there motionless, his face purple. I checked his
pulse but there was none.” Ah Mui broke down and sobbed.

The policemen left her in tears and went on with their work. They checked for signs of life but
there was none.
 “Looks like heart attack,” commented one constable. “These people nowadays eat too much
fatty food, no wonder they die,” said a Malay constable in broken English.

Ah Mui smiled to herself. Her superb acting had paid off! They would never knew what caused
his death, she thought. “Maybe I could go and act after this has quietened down,” she remarked to
herself.

Her thoughts were broken by a loud-voiced policeman. “Hey, sir! Look what I found! Feathers
in the corpse mouth!”

Ah Mui was sent to Tanjung Rambutan for mental treatment. The judge decided not to hang
her as she was not in a right state of mind during the time of murder due to prolonged abuse by her
husband. Till now, Ah Mui still shudders at the thought of the torture inflicted on her by her husband.
She would not forget it, and will never, ever forget it.
 Rain

The downpour was strong enough to let Noah’s Ark set sail again. The fat drops splattered on every
exposed surface. I glanced away from the window and picked up my book again – a fiction thriller by
Christopher Pike, my favourite, but tonight the book brought me no thrill. It just made me more
nervous. Why didn’t I follow them? Why did I agree to being left in this creepy house all alone?

My name is Jade Smith and I am eighteen. My parents, both successful entrepreneurs, had
gone on a business trip to Belgium for two weeks. They went on business trips frequently, but never
together. They invited me along but being the carefree, rebellious teenager I was, I decided to stay
home, fantasizing about the great time I would have, being free and alone. I can still remember vividly
the conversation with my mother two days ago, which ended in a heated argument.

“Jade, stop being stubborn. Your father and I are not leaving you alone in this house. Just think
of what could happen,” said my mother.

“Mother, I am not a child anymore. I can take care of myself. I don’t care. I am not going,” was
my stubborn reply.

“Fine, have it your way,” my mother cried out frustratedly in the warm city.

Boy, was I regretting what I said. I was visualizing myself in the warm city of Belgium. But
instead, I was stuck in this creepy, enormous house all by myself. I tried calling my friends but they
were all busy. Well, served me right anyway. I continued to read the book.

Suddenly, I heard a muffled sound coming from downstairs. I ignored it at first, but the sound
grew louder. It was as if someone was opening and closing something. I opened the door of my
bedroom and strained my ears. There was a loud shatter and I was sure that it was the sound of the
window pane breaking. I quickly closed the door and froze. “Oh, my God! There is an intruder in the
house. What am I going to do?” In an instant, my mind wandered back to the gruesome news bulletins
and stories of girls being kidnapped or raped when home alone. Fear took over my body.

“Jade, get a grip of yourself. You can still save yourself,” I calmed myself down. My little pep
talk gave me a surge of courage. Carefully, trying not to make any sound, I opened the door again and
tiptoed downstairs. I could hear the clanking of pots and pans from the stairways. The house was dark.
Occasional lighting from the storm would light up the house for a second or so. Stopping in the
hallways for a moment, I picked up the nearest weapon, a golf club. I made my way towards the source
of the noise, which obviously was the kitchen. I tiptoed quietly and stopped, just outside the kitchen
door. I peered in meticulously. My heart leaped for the hundredth time. There was someone in the
kitchen. His back was facing me and he seemed to be engrossed in rummaging through the cabinets,
too oblivious to realize my presence. He was dressed in black sweater. His head was covered with a
black wool cap.

I stood back, trying to regain my composure but to no avail. My heart was beating like an
express train. Armed with the golf club, I edged slowly towards him. Just as I was about to strike him,
he turned around. I did not give a chance for him to say anything and with all my strength, I clobbered
him with the golf club. Then, I immediately ran out to the hallway to find the phone. The police! I must
call the police. I picked up the phone and to my horror, there was no dialling tone. “Oh, God! The
storm must have knocked down the telephone poles. What am I going to do now?”

I remembered my cellular phone! Yes, it was upstairs in my bedroom. All I had to do was get
to the phone.
 Just as I was about to go upstairs, the burglar came stumbling in. He saw me and grabbed me
by the leg. I tried to kick him away from me but his grip was too strong. I struggled on the floor with
hi. I bit into his flesh and he let out a scream of agony. He suddenly stood up and took out something
from under his sweater. Oh, my God! A gun! I mustered all my energy and ran up the stairs just in the
nick of time. I ran up to my room and bolted the door. I jammed a chair under the knob. I could hear
the burglar making his way upstairs. He was laughing. I was shaking with fear.

“Come out, come out little girl. It’s no use hiding.” Frantic, I searched around my room for a
weapon when I remembered about the phone. I searched my dressing table and was utterly relieved
when I found it. Just as I op about to dial, a loud shot rang out.

The burglar has just shot open my door. He came walking in, I took a vase nearby and threw
at him. He dodged and came bounding at me. We struggled on the floor. He was so heavy, and his
weight was unbearable, literally choking me. I yelled out and we struggled violently. I managed to lay
my hands on his gun and pulled the trigger. There was a loud bang and his body went limp. I heaved
and rolled free from his massive weight. He clasped his stomach and was breathing heavily. Blood
gushed out from the ugly wound. I froze for a moment and then it dawned upon me that I ought to
summon help. With trembling fingers, I managed to contact the police.

A month had passed by since that incident. My parents were relieved that I was safe. I
regretted being stubborn and not following their advice.

I doubted that I would ever forget that horrible incident. Every time it rained, images of the
burglar in his death throes would play in my mind to haunt and torment me. And that’s why I hated
and dreaded the rain till this day.
 My heart was beating very fast as I walked towards my house. I heard a shrill scream coming
from inside. I was praying like crazy that Kana was not inside, that it was not her who screamed. I lifted
up my feet cautiously towards the door. As I swung it open, my worst fears were confirmed. Blood
was splattered all over the floor, I searched frantically for Kana but failed to find her. I ran outside and
looked for anybody, but there was no one. Even the neighbours had fled. The neighbours was
deserted. Not a trace of people could be found. As I was still desperate to find a living soul, I stepped
on a huge, sticky puddle of slime. I touched it and sniffed the extract. Just as I thought, this was the
work of the demons. My eyes caught a familiar red scarf hanging from a tree branch. The red scarf
was Kano’s. I was gripped with fear when I realised that the demons had taken her.

Eventually, anger enveloped me as I clenched my fist and marched back to my house. Nothing
else was on my mind except to kill the demons. I did not care how many of them. Even if there were
ten thousand of them. I would crush all of them with my bare hands. They had taken my love, Kana,
and they would pay for it. Not a single one would escape my vengeance. I took my katana, the long
knife and strode towards the 100-eyed Demon Castle like a mad man. I was alone but filled with the
utmost determination to exact my revenge. Kana was the only one that I cared for and no filthy
creature could take her away from me. She had given me the sun when I asked for a tiny speck of light.
She meant everything to me. A sane man would have asked for help, but I knew that no one would
come to my aid. I had to do what I had to do.

The 100-eyed Demon was the most powerful demon on earth. I knew what I would be facing,
but my love for Kana was too strong and I was bent on rescuing her from the evil clutches of the
demon.

It was a long journey. It took me one whole night to reach the castle. The sun was rising,
greeting the new day, but it did not match my mood. I was still overwhelmed with rage and hatred.
The word ‘kill’ was still plastered on my mind. The dark, gloomy castle loomed over me. Even though
the sun was shining brightly, it did not gave any colour or hope to this evil place. It was the 100-eyed
Demon Castle, and I had finally arrived. I drew out my katana, preparing to attack, I held my weapon
above my head and rushed towards the door. I kicked the door open, expecting the guards to be there.
I slashed my katana in a rage of fury and killed my first victim. The thrill of my first kill and the smell of
blood gave me a wave of satisfaction. I wanted more. My thirst for blood was unquenchable.

I wielded my katana skilfully. I was not myself as I fulfilled my desire to kill the demons. I was
the best swordfighter in town. I was utilising my skills in full mode as I cut and slashed through the
enemies around me like a person possessed. A demon stabbed me in the thigh, but strangely, I did
not feel any pain. I swung my sword and beheaded the pathetic creature. I was howling and grunting
like an animal as I fought my way to find the 100-eyed Demon. I rushed towards every room and
chamber, killing everything that was in my way. I was on a war path and running amok. Demon blood
stank my clothes and dirtied my face but I was satisfied. One thing left to be done was to eliminate
the 100-eyed Demon. I finally reached the hall. I saw the ugly being standing in the middle of the big
hall holding up a sword.

I was glad that he decided to put up a fight. I would love to annihilate him slowly with a painful
and agonizing death. I licked my lips as I pointed my katana at him, I charged and everything else
happened so quickly. The fight seemed to go on forever. I remembered relishing every single moment
of it. The look in his eyes as I plunged my blade deep into his chest gave me an intense satisfaction.
The demon shuddered in its death throes, keeled over and breathed its last breath.
 I clashed quickly towards the dungeon where Kana was locked up. The 100-eyed Demon told
me where she was incarcerated during the final moments of its life. I was filled with desperate hope
as I searched for her cell.

“Gono!” A familiar voice rang out. Her sweet, melodious voice seemed to heal every single
wound on my body. I turned to the cell where her voice came from. I saw her with tears in her eyes,
as beautiful as ever. I held out a hand to touch her, but she backed away. Anguish and pain was written
all over her face.

“What’s wrong, Kana?” I asked tenderly as my hands gripped the cold metal bar.

“I am dirty,Gono,” she said.

As she told me the painful truth, I did not realize it when she suddenly reached out her hand
and drew my long knife from its sheath. She had been raped, and now she was pregnant with the dead
demon’s baby. Tears flowed freely down my cheeks as I was choked with emotions.”

“The only way to kill it, Gono, is to kill me.” She pleaded with teary eyes. I tried in vain to stop
her as she lifted up the knife high and plunged it into her womb. She has sacrificed herself to get rid
herself of the demonic scourge. She had died before my very eyes. I could not remember anything
except screaming out her name so loud that I could not hear myself. My world had come to an end.
The love of my life had been snuffed out. I buried my face in my hands, sobbed bitterly and faltered
helplessly to the ground.
 My Hero

I do not normally believe in anything beyond the realms of science. I suppose this is probably
because my father is one of the most prominent physicians in Malaysia. It was he, who instilled in me,
from the time I was a young child, a strong disbelief in anything supernatural as it could not be proven
scientifically. But my beliefs turned 180 degrees during that one night I spent camping out in Pangkor
Island. That incident nearly took my life, but unfortunately a hero saved my life when I was in danger.

My friends who had been staying at the bungalow before, tried to warn me that there were a
lot of strange phenomena going on at the bungalow. There were repeated cases of unnatural
happenings and it baffled lots of people. Naturally, I shrugged off all their warnings. I had a book to
write and I did not want to go too far away from home, as I wanted a quiet place to finish my book. I
had been having some difficulty finishing it due to too much distractions and some personal problems.
On top of that, my editor was breathing down my neck pushing me to beat the deadline. One reason
I chose Pangkor Island was that there was no telephone in the secluded bungalow. It was quite a
popular place for those seeking solace and tie to contemplate on important decisions. Many
expatriates were fond of this so-called haunted place. I was also attracted by its serenity and
tranquillity and the soft golden beach.

All went well during the day, but that night a few things happened. First there was a power
failure. It was hard to work by candlelight, but I did. It was about 1.00 a.m. when I heard a soft knock
on the door. I was sure it was a soul from next door. There was no one at the door. I thought that
perhaps I had been mistaken and went back to my writing. Then I heard a child whimpering. I looked
about and thought the sound came from the kitchen. The knight in me was aroused and I rushed to
the kitchen to help a fellow human.

When I reached the kitchen, I realized that the sound was from outside the door. Quickly, I
unbolted the door and looked out. There was no one at the door but I saw some movements among
the barbecue benches. I looked and saw quite clearly, a child standing near one of the benches. She
was crying softly. “Hello,” I called out and started to walk to her. She turned and looked at me. Then I
saw a woman moving from my right towards the child. I was sure she was the mother and stopped.
The woman move towards the child, picked her up and embraced her warmly. “Hello,” I said again
and this time the woman turned to look at me. She flashed a smile. Then she just faded away with the
child. They vanished right before my eyes. An eerie sensation immediately gripped my heart.

I ran forward to look for them. I looked everywhere, behind the benches and the trees. Then
I felt someone pushing my back and I fell into a big, deep hole. I managed to grab the branches beside
the hole. I looked down into the hole and saw thousands of snakes at the bottom of the hole. My heart
was palpitating wildly. Cold sweat started forming around my forehead and dripped almost instantly.
I shouted for help. After twenty minutes shouting, I saw a man running towards me. Then he pulled
me up from the hole. At that moment, I thanked the Almighty for sending a hero to save my life.

I thanked the man and dashed back to the bungalow as fast as my legs could carry me. I lay
awake the whole night wondering who pushed me into the treacherous hole. This incident left an
incredible mark in my mind. I will never forget the hero who saved my life when I was in mortal danger.
 Memories

I consider my school days to be some of my best days and try to impress upon my children to
derive every ounce of enjoyment from theirs. It is a time to ponder and prepare for the future – to
cultivate and develop one’s potential. It is a time to work out for oneself a personal code of conduct
and acquire basic skills for interacting with others. Personal standards achieved in diligence,
independence, initiative, discipline, responsibility, punctuality, honesty and personal pride together
with the cognitive and social skills to go on to become survival and personal development skills in later
years. It is also a time to find enjoyment, fulfilment and creativity through music, sports and a range
of other activities. Most importantly, at school I made friends and now enjoy life-long friendships.

We lived in luckier times. We were not plagued by drugs, materialism and all the pressure and
sophistication of modern living. We had a very simple, carefree but orderly lifestyle. In other words,
we had freedom. At the same time, we had ‘discipline’ drummed into us and for our fellow beings.
Most of all, we were taught to have respect for the people who were there to guide us through our
vulnerable and formative years, i.e. our parents, teachers, and elders.

It is also my pleasure to recall memories of some of my school days to you. All my peers will
still remember our form teacher with fondness.

Our classroom was the one directly opposite across from the office on the first floor.
Whenever our form teacher came across the compound to take the next period, my partner and I
would be crouching down, looking out for her through the gaps on the verandah. If she was not
bouncing across the compound smiling her regal smile, our message to the class would simply be;
“Look out! ‘Mrs Joe’ on the rampage!” and you could almost hear a pin drop when she entered the
classroom.

On the rampage, our form teacher did one of two things. She would walk down the classroom
row by row and smack us on the upper arm one by one or she would walk down the middle of the
classroom with all our exercise books in her hands. With the words, “You all have given me rubbish,
so I am returning this rubbish to you,” she would throw the whole pile of exercise books into the air
to rain down on us all. We soon learned to produce better work, to the standard of what was expected
to us.

On one particular day, we were to have a test and for some unknown reasons she was late.
That was great we thought. “No test!” When she arrived and found us jabbering away, boy, was she
mad at us!

“I expected at least one of you to have the initiative to fetch the test papers from the office
and start the test on your own!” We had to do the test there and then, minus the time we had wasted
chatting with one another and waiting for her. Needless to say, we understood fully the meaning of
what it was to use our own initiative. If you were not already in the classroom when a lesson
commenced, you were not allowed to enter; neither were you allowed to ‘stand and stare’. You used
your initiative to go to the library and do something useful. If you forget to bring your book, you were
not allowed to stay in the classroom and distract your classmates – you took yourself off to the library
too.

Discipline is the crucial catalyst for success. I learned this from my form teacher who became
my mentor – her wisdom and friendship continues to guide me to this day.