But when a class pools their efforts to do so, they touch me more deeply than my students elsewhere.

My first form class. 16-year-old boisterous boys on the cusp of manhood. That year, they pooled their money together and appointed someone to buy me a big box of ferrero rocher chocolates. The cliques never talked to one another at all, so for them to come together in this show of unison floored me.

Also, my last form class. Someone (or some people) took the initiative to buy the binder and construction paper and stickers. These are kids who are on Financial Assistance Scheme, so for them to spend money on me was signal that I mattered. These leaders also got as many people as they could to write me a thank-you note. Some wrote beautifully while others penned haltingly, but everyone left a piece of their heart. For a group of reluctant writers to crack their brains and put something - anything - on paper, it felt like an antidote spreading through my veins and dispelling life’s poisons.

And to top it off, a girl subsequently went to collect voice messages from several classmates and compile them into a video for me via CapCut. To put things into context, I doubt that she had even studied for her Mid-Year Exams. But she poured in effort for me.

Given the right circumstances, I could have wept when I listened to their voices. Little authentic human beings expressing their love in the way they know best.