Garden School Reunion – part 2 – remembering the ‘good old days’

After 40 years some memories feel like yesterday and others are hazy. During the last weekend in June, reunited with our classmates from the late 70s at Garden School, Kuala Lumpur, we reminisced together. There were some things we all remembered and others that appeared out of the shadows with a nudge from a friend who was there at the time.

In this post I’m remembering the school from 1975 to 1978 but the history goes back further than that. The school was started in the garden of Sally Watkins, in Kuala Lumpur, in 1951. Mrs Watkins, needing a school for her sons, started one herself on her veranda and gradually other children joined. That’s why it was called the Garden School. More of this fascinating history can be found on the school’s website.

If you read my last post, you’ll know that despite the tropical heat and humidity there was no air conditioning at the school. Every classroom had a ceiling fan and the windows were kept open wide. We had to weigh down our papers with anything heavy. Wooden pencil cases came in handy! During the short morning break we would flock to the Coke machine where a glass bottle of the cold fizzy drink could be obtained for 30 cents. I also used to bring with me a plastic bottle which had been filled with water and frozen over night. Then wrapped in a small towel (Garden School gang, remember Good Morning towels? I have one somewhere and will try and dig it out!). By break time it had become cold water with a lump of ice in the middle but I tend to think I preferred the coke!

This is what the city looked like then. Lots of trees and the odd taller building. KL is now unrecognisable compared with its 1970s self. Our school buildings were in leafy roads, although there was traffic noise, and there was plenty of space with a relaxed, rural feel.

The one thing we all remembered was how uncomfortable the green uniform dresses were. Boys wore cotton shirts and grey trousers but we had those awful dresses. You will see them in yesterday’s post linked above. We didn’t buy them; our parents were given a pattern which they took to a dressmaker who then tried to match the horrible lime green colour. Therefore everyone’s dress was slightly different – a little lighter or darker, with a texture or not. They all tended to be heavy cotton. Quite tailored, with a scratchy collar, tight under the arms, covered buttons and buttoned pockets, there was nothing to redeem them. Because it was so difficult getting them made, and we were all growing, the dresses would seem to get shorter and shorter requiring us to keep pulling them down towards our knees to retain some decency. I didn’t miss those dresses one bit and it has taken me decades to consider wearing green again!

On PE days we had to go to school wearing shorts. This was even worse. As a young, shy teenage girl I didn’t want to be seen wearing shorts even in my own house. PE day meant wearing them in class until it was time to go outside to play some sort of sport. My favourite was the term or so that one of our teachers taught us yoga and I have continued that interest throughout my life. Others played table tennis, badminton or softball. We were even allowed to go out of the school gates on ‘cross country runs.’ I seem to remember these as something more like a pleasant stroll although I have heard others admit recently that they popped round the corner to a friend’s house and stayed there until just before the end of the lesson!

During the reunion we went on a couple of mini bus trips. This prompted memories of the few school trips we took. We remembered a water park with pedaloes, I think in the shape of large birds (correct me, guys, if I am wrong) and culminating in the difficulty of rounding up those who were still on the water when we were supposed to leave. There was also a trip whose purpose I have completely forgotten which included jumping into a flooded stream in a particularly jungle-like setting. I returned home absolutely filthy and got into a lot of trouble with my parents. I have to ask myself now about the level of supervision that was provided – maybe the teachers were enjoying their day out too!

Just to show you what the roads were like, not far from the city, here is a picture that my mother took from the passenger seat of our family car. This was typical and although, as a 30-something from England, she found it worth photographing, as a teenager I wouldn’t have been in the slightest interested:

Finally, something we struggled to remember the name of throughout our weekend, and I am proud to say I was the one to find it in my mental archives, was Honours Day. This was an end of year celebration in which prizes were given out and I suspect there was some sort of entertainment. My classmates remember plays and performances but I seem to have blanked those out! On one particular Honours Day the guest of, well, honour was none other than Tunku Abdul Rahman, first Prime Minister of Malaysia who was often referred to as the Father of Malaysia. Those of us receiving prizes (I think I got one for French) had to rehearse how to cross the stage and either bow or curtsey because Tunku Abdul Rahman was also a royal prince.

I remember these things now and realise how different our life was from the lives of teenagers in Western Europe or the US. But after a week or so of settling in, it didn’t feel different. Young people are adaptable and just want to get on with their day, studying, playing sport and spending time with friends. So that’s what we did. And it was very comfortable until everything changed. Look out for the next post to find out what happened next.