I woke up to a grim Saturday morning, remembering that the movement control order (MCO) had been extended for yet another 14 days till April 28 due to the Covid-19 pandemic.

And what plans did I have to meander through these 14 days meaningfully? It’s business as usual. Work from home continues.

Yet what added to this already dreary morning was receiving a sorrowful message via WhatsApp – Francis George Hilary Sta Maria, a former teacher of mine had passed away in his sleep after failing to recover from a freak car accident about a month earlier.

There was no teacher like Sta Maria.

He stumbled into teaching over 64 years ago, when he took up a temporary teaching post at La Salle Sentul, a mission school. That was in 1954 as he awaited his Form Five examination results.

He soon discovered that he was a natural at teaching. He taught Standard Three English and Mathematics and sometimes other subjects except Bahasa Malaysia.

After more than 31 years at La Salle Sentul, Sta Maria moved to La Salle Brickfields, where he assumed the position of headmaster in 1986. Later, he taught at MAZ International School before moving to Stella Maris Primary School in 1994.

I am not going to delve much into his teaching experiences, his escapades or his penchant for fast cars, watches and fine shoes. These have already been written about extensively.

My memories of Sta Maria are more profound, and not memories one can boast of or take pride in. You see, I was at Sta Maria’s beck and call ever since I was a young boy in Standard 1 in 1962.

Each time he spotted me along the corridors of the school, he would summon me into his class and instruct me to tackle a maths problem way beyond my years. How was a seven-year-old to solve a maths problem meant for a Standard 6 pupil? The experience was stomach-churning to say the least.

Fast forward to my adult years, when Sta Maria and I would laugh casually and at times hysterically as I related my primary school nightmares to the members of the Eurasian club in his presence.

This camaraderie was a far cry from how it used to be years ago. At that time, the very name Sta Maria could send shivers down my spine and that of other students.

I remember how he used to walk with much aplomb down the corridors of La Salle Sentul, with his left shoulder slightly slanted and a habitual twitch of his head to the right at every second. That was his trademark disposition with a demeanour that was uncompromising.

At his 80th birthday in 2015 organised by the Old Boys’ Association of La Salle Sentul, Sta Maria was bestowed the recognition of Longest Serving Teacher, and officially made his way into The Malaysia Book of Records.

A report following this announcement read, “After teaching for the past 63 years, Francis Sta Maria has finally decided to retire in 2017”.

But I beg to differ. Sta Maria did not retire in 2017, but continued teaching sporadically until the end of 2018.

At his 80th birthday celebration, his nephews and nieces presented a parody cum musical presentation depicting his teaching years and comical encounters between him and fictitious student characters.

In one of those songs, sung to the tune of “When I’m 64”, the lyrics went like this… “Will you be teaching, will you be teaching till you’re 84…”

Was it a premonition? Coincidence? Sta Maria literally stopped teaching only at the age of 84.

To all his students, Sta Maria was a no-nonsense man who enjoyed his teaching, his music, his cars, his fashion and his cane.

There was no compromise when you were brought before him for indiscipline. As the discipline teacher, there was no bargaining with him. And our parents loved it. They practically gave the school the supreme authority to mete out punishment deemed fit for any student who flouted the rules.

Till just before his passing, even students who had felt the sting of his cane used to invite Sta Maria to either their Old Boys gatherings, birthdays or their children’s weddings.

Such was the bond that was forged between Sta Maria and his students in the years when attap classrooms with zinc roofs were the order of the day. A bond nobody could explain specifically those who dreaded the very sight of him or who shied away from or literally hid from this teacher.

For Sta Maria, retiring from teaching was never an option. He was not a person who preferred staying home and watching the “stupid box”.

He loved being out and about. Always prim and proper, his pants were ironed crisp, not a wrinkle in his shirt nor a loose shoelace to be seen.

If he was not teaching or attending mass to sing in the choir, he indulged in his next best loves – food and music.

He made it a point to go out for dinner and music with a tight group of friends every Thursday. Usually it was to a pub or a club.

But even these two loves could not top his love for teaching. That was something you could never separate from the man.

For Sta Maria, if he could teach forever, he would have done so. But fate would not allow it. Eventually ill health got the better of him.

“I have had a very rewarding life as a teacher. I have no regrets,” was what he once replied when asked by a reporter about his vocation.

It is clear Sta Maria touched his students’ lives in many ways – but most of all as a teacher. He was a teacher who could not stop teaching.

Sir, we your former students of La Salle Sentul, salute you for being a part of our lives – as students and as adults.

Rest in peace, Sir.

Tony Gayondato was a student and dear friend of the late Francis George Hilary Sta Maria, a former school teacher of La Salle Sentul.