Daylight 03

Take an equilateral triangle and inscribe within it a circle such that this circle touches all three sides tangentially. You now have something which seems to belong to Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, that latest (and some say last) of Mdm Rowling's money-spinning novels. But this isn't what I think of when I see that symbol. The truth is that for more than 20 years, I've been sealing my letters with that sigil.

That sigil, the circle in a triangle, symbolises many things to me. It is Alpha and Omega; it is the Delta which is Change; it is the Three which is One. And I'm sure it must be a pretty common shape, a diagram found in many mathematics texts. It was in my third decade, from my 21st year to my 30th, that this sign became even more important, more significant (if you will) to me.

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Here is my third decade.

1988 brought with it my release from official duties. It was also the year in which I was threatened with statelessness, despite having served the state faithfully and well. In order to stay here, I gave up my birthright to the Islands of the Blessed. I was told, however, that if I really wanted to return, to remember that the right conferred by birth was immutable.

With that, I entered the university life. I hated much of it. Although I finally got myself the paper of an education (majoring in applied and theoretical alchemy, in numeromancy and homuncular intelligence), I hated the lack-of-education I was really receiving. I was fortunate to find mentors there, and some like-minded associates. In the end writing, reading and debating saved me. I was a terrible student the rest of the time, an incandescent speaker when moved (would you believe Best Speaker at the Inter-Faculty Debates?), a wicked writer when necessary.

I have been told that poor grades are the sign of a defective character. I think that is true in one sense; those who see defects are those who are limited by the necessity for grading. I have been told that if you are a bad student, it is a moral failing and shows lack of determination, industry and conscientiousness. Well, I am unrepentant. I learned a lot more by hacking the mainframe and failing my project than by submitting anything on time. I did my best for what I liked; I passed what I didn't. I aced Human Resource Management and scraped a bare pass in Math. And I hung out at the concert hall, the library, the museum and the computer centre.

I now know that a lot of it was arrogance. I was very happy to project the image of intellectual rebel. Challenged by a good friend on this point, I spent sleepless nights realising I was not really one. And so I enterprised in my heart that I would return to my God-given gifts and spend a lot more time doing useful stuff. That meant studying hard and preparing, once more, to be a teacher – a plain, ordinary but dedicated young person.

It was at the end of my final year that I got sidetracked. Oddly impressed by my ability with practical work, two senior professors offered me a job as a researcher. It was a good experience, and I ended it having learnt much from my co-workers and supervisors. After completing my contract, I entered the National Educational Institute.

This was a funny time. I remember being filled with cold irritation during my entrance interview. The lead interviewer had been asking increasingly personal questions which I had rebuffed. Finally, she asked, "Are you trying to tell us that your father is Professor X?" (Well, no, but I'm not going to bandy my father's name around, so 'X' will have to do for now.)

I was furiously calm. I said, "No, I've been trying not to tell you that, especially since it's on my application form. I'm afraid I didn't have much choice when it came to picking a father. Is that all?" A year later, in July 1992, I emerged with 4As and 3Bs, the best grades I had ever obtained in any examination since my sad attempts at a secondary education.

My first traineeship posting was to a wonderful government secondary school. I learnt a lot from the very dedicated mentors I had in that school. Then I was posted to a convent. How awkward! My limited experience had not prepared me for the next 33 months. I remember spending a lot of time trying to be a good teacher. Eventually, I decided I was a bad man, got married, and left the convent. My principal encouraged me to begin working on a Master's degree before I left – the last time a principal would ever do this for me.

I changed schools in 1996. Little was I to know that my homecoming would be fraught with all kinds of trouble. From a simple teacher trying to do his best, I was nominated for a headship in August that year. I finally sipped from the poisoned chalice in November. It was the end of the third decade, and the end of my life. Or at least, a large chunk of the good part of it.