If It’s Worth It
On the first of September 2025, Wan Muzni passed away at the age of 72 years old. She was attended by her family and friends. Others who heard the news were also grieved by it, I am sure, as I was. Madam Wan, as her students normally would address her, was my favourite teacher.
She passed away two weeks ago and although it had been on my mind, I couldn’t bring myself to write anything about it. I was not very close to her after I finished school but she had left a great impact on me, it still feels quite hard to hear the news. There’s also the fact that the last time I saw her was well before COVID, I think, and the last time I contacted her was about 2-3 years ago, that made me feel slightly guilty of her passing. Yes, everyone has their time on this earth and yes, life happens, which makes it hard to keep up, but it still nags at your mind that you could have ‘done’ more to keep in touch. I remember saying this a few years after finishing school, but she brushed it off in her nonchalant+smirk way (her students would know this) and say it’s okay.
Madam Wan taught English during my last year in high school. That explains the deferential term Madam to female English teachers, and Sir for male teachers. If compared to other teachers, I don’t think the materials that she used or her class were that different. However she did ask us to write essays. Coming from the north of Malaysia, where people rarely speak English, English was seen as something foreign. Something you read in books or see in movies. So when asked to write an essay about ourselves, I made up stories because that’s where I’ve learned English from: fictions and fantasies. She said it was okay, but figuratively poked me into writing about real things. I resisted because teenagers, right? Also what’s fun about my life? I was still carried away by the stories that I read, and thought that I if I were an adopted/long-lost heir/magician-to-be, then it would be an interesting thing to read, and write about. But after a few long talks, she convinced me and I wrote about myself. Simple, mundane stuffs, but it was the first essay that I remember that was not a complete Harry Potter ripoff. And it was refreshing. It was actually quite good. It wouldn’t win Pulitzer, but it felt good, both while writing AND reading it myself afterwards. That was one of the first lessons that she taught me, that I don’t need to make up stories to feel good (about myself).
Later when I was a bit doubtful of choosing my path to university, she became my soundboard. I was quite against the idea of becoming a doctor, unlike most of my friends, who later went away to study medicine. I read around about how bad the working hours are, building an argument against doing medicine. But the peer pressure was strong so I was bobbing my decisions between courses. Throughout this, Madam Wan listened, not really too attentively but enough nudging to keep me churning out my thoughts. She, like most teachers, could see the benefits of me dedicating myself to being a doctor, but she understood that I didn’t want to. I still complained about the hard work (I was and still am lazy) that is needed if I do any other course, to which she replied, “If it’s worth having, Faris, then it is worth striving (for).” That was 20+ years ago but it still guides me in making most big decisions. That was one of the most valuable lessons that she taught me. Thank you.
Innalillahi wainna Ilaihi Rajiun.
Thank you for reading.