MY late mother was a teacher. While I was in a secondary school in Penang, she even taught me for a few years. Many of my friends said she was a good teacher. During my primary school years, when we lived in Kuala Lumpur, my fundamentals, particularly in mathematics, were ingrained in me by the late Master Francis Santa Maria. 

Master Francis started his career in 1954 and spent more than 30 years teaching in government schools. He then continued teaching in private institutions and never really stopped until late 2018. Imagine the life-long love for a vocation that must have been present for this individual to dedicate himself so diligently to his cause.

In 1969, I entered standard five at La Salle, Brickfields. My mother sought out her old friend from Sentul, Master Francis, who had a reputation of delivering top results in mathematics.  His primary teaching tool was a well-developed flexor pollicis longus (the long muscle which flexes the thumb). Ideal for delivering a painful pinch and a loud booming voice. His voice commanded attention. It allowed him to effectively share the basic principles and formulae of mathematics with his more academically serious students. His voice, which he could amplify several decibels in an instant, combined with ‘other tools’ of old-school teachers allowed Master Francis to make reasonable mathematicians even out of the mischievously inclined!

Much has been said and written of this icon of an educator. However, in the next paragraphs, I would like to share a story, maybe only known to a minimal number of people. 

My story begins on the evening of May 13, 1969 – an infamous date in the annals of modern Malaysian history. It was a Tuesday. A day on which race riots broke out in Malaysia. Many lost their lives or were severely injured that fateful evening merely by being in the wrong place at the wrong time. That evening, Master Francis was at our home. 

We lived at a government residence – No 10, Jalan Kedah, Federal Hill –  a home with an extensive view of the city skyline from all directions. Indeed, today the Kuala Lumpur residence of the sultan of Kedah sits on the site of what was our home. Such is the scenic vantage of this property. 

At our home that evening, Master Francis was delivering his 90-minute tuition class which had commenced about 5.15 pm. His students were my brother and me. He was preparing us for the standard five Government Assessment Examinations later that year. My father, a police officer, would usually be home at about 5.30pm each day, but this evening, there was no sign of him. About 6pm, the telephone rang, and it was Dad. He urgently wished to speak with Master Francis. 

The conversation lasted only a few seconds. Dad’s instructions were precise: “Leave our home immediately. Avoid Federal Highway and keep away from main roads, particularly if crowds are converging”.

Master Francis almost ran out of the house, leaving my brother and I bewildered. Mum was at home and followed him out. As we exited our home, we could see numerous, frightening, grey and black plumes of smoke, all across the evening skyline. The concern on his face was unlike anything I had ever seen. He drove off at high speed, and it was only some years later that I realised that he enjoyed driving sporty cars. 

After he left us and we had begun to understand what was happening in our country, we become worried about him. 

It was only several days later that we got to know that he had eventually reached home safely that Tuesday evening. He told us that he would typically use the Federal Highway to get home. But acting on information he received from Dad, he had chosen a different route. He drove through the road that linked Universiti Melaya to Bangsar and Petaling Jaya. For many years afterwards, he would say that call from my father probably saved him grave injury, perhaps even his life.

I last saw Master Francis at a memorial lunch for Mum on August 11, 2019. Some people said a few words in her memory at the function. Spontaneously, I asked Master Francis if he would care to speak. He unhesitatingly obliged. Off the cuff, he eloquently demonstrated to all present that his memory had not faltered an iota. He had some stories, peppered with witty details to share, particularly with those from the Sentul area.

My one regret is that he left us at a time we could not pay our respects appropriately and respectfully. In a way, he solved a problem for those who had to manage his funeral arrangements. I do not think any church would have been large enough to accommodate the number of people who would have wished to attend his funeral!

So many, like me, learnt our fundamentals from Master Francis Santa Maria. And not just mathematical formulae and techniques. We also learnt that there were no shortcuts and that hard work and perseverance could take you much of the way. Indeed, he walked the talk, demonstrating determination with several thousand students over more than six decades of teaching.

Thank you, sir. May you rest in peace. – April 16, 2020.

* Dr Ken Pereira reads The Malaysian Insight.

* This is the opinion of the writer or publication and does not necessarily represent the views of The Malaysian Insight. Article may be edited for brevity and clarity.