The difference between our class blog and most other class blogs amuses me sometimes (for the epitomized "Other Kind of Class Blog", see 06S7E). Not that I lament the difference - ours is kinda heartwarming and funny. But sometimes it doesn't hurt to take a leaf out of their books, I guess.

It may be premature to talk about our 'college life coming to a close' and all that soppy, boo-hoo reflection, but it just hit me that it isn't too early to realize that we've already wasted whiled away a good part of Hwachong Life. You know me, this isn't going to be about school work and catching up. And surprise - this isn't going to be about us either! Can you count 5 from the the number of staff members (teaching and non teaching) who know your person and can single you out from the brown mush that is our student population? Hands up if Ang Wee Hiong knows who you are (and I mean that without the aid of school admission records). Hands up if you know the name of that cleaning aunty whose greatest career goal is to throw away our class bench. Even our tutors (with the exception of special relations TBB and Steve/Jon/Weix share) typically don't know a lot more than our registered names and our faces for attendance taking's sake.

I was actually quite resigned to this way of life in College, finally realizing that conquering the world was quite impossible, until I met this rather special woman in school. But then again, perhaps she was only special because we took the time to know each other.

Her name is Karen. She cleans the Science Research Block. A kindly, fifty-something lady with a bilingual proficiency that puts 90% of us here to shame, who told us to call her Karen. (And no, she looks nothing like Karen Neo, whom by the way, I met again in Toa Payoh during the hols!)

We (siewch, me and a couple of other kids in AEP) became friendly when she spied us banging our heads in exasperation and dying of desperation, being locked out of the artrooms on Monday mornings. A friendly favour became routine, as we seek her out every morning and cajole her keys from her.

Sometimes she came in to clean the rooms while we worked. And that was when all the fun began. She would tease us all, laughing when the boys tried to tease her back. When our room became infested with evil ants, the AEP kids launched a frantic search-and-destroy mission, Aunty Karen and another cleaning lady we've learnt to recognize but not name gave us a Buddhist lesson in respecting all life forms, all the while laughing at our paranoia.

She recited idioms and popular Tang poetry to me, stopping to dish out some of life's little pointers in a friendly, unaffected way. I ask her for Chinese translations sometimes.

One day, I was working alone in the sculpture studio, and found Aunty Karen cleaning out the kiln room. She was sweaty and dusty all over, but she grinned when she saw me, and said she was glad for the company. She worked quietly and cheerfully, but not without introducing me to things I never knew about the studio. They were not things to do with art - like how to operate the kiln, or what temperature yields the best glaze etc, but things that only one who had spent countless of hours and tender care would know. We joked, and she sat down to her recyled water bottle and cartoonish lunch box later to watch me while I worked.

Those who know her never meet her without a resounding greeting. And I can't help but wonder if there's an Aunty Karen in every member of the Hwach staff waiting to be discovered, if only we didn't drop our eyes and and quicken our pace when our paths crossed.

Fifty points to the person who finds out the name of the scary indian cleaning aunty who threatens us every morning!