My School Memoir

 

My HMHS School Memoir 

By Muana Khuptong

 My time at Hill Model High School from 1994 to 1996 was an unforgettable experience filled with both joyful and challenging moments. I have many cherished memories from my time there, spanning from 6th to 9th grade. While there are parts of my experience that I wish I could forget due to the struggles I faced, I am deeply grateful for the education I received at Hill Model High School in Singngat. Even though I did not complete 10th grade or graduate from high school there, I am proud to consider myself an alumnus. I can confidently say that the educational foundation I gained at Hill Model High School has shaped who I am today.

 This is my story, which I love to share with others.

 I grew up in a small village called Lungchin, located in the southeast part of Manipur, India, approximately 37 kilometers from Singngat. I attended Evangelical Convention Church Elementary School from nursery through 5th grade. After finishing 5th grade, I could not continue my education there, as the school did not have higher grades. Consequently, I had to halt my studies and help my parents with their rice farming, (we were practicing jhuming cultivation.) This was in 1992, and I spent the entire year of 1993 working on the farm.

 During that time, many of my friends continued their studies in either Lamka or Singngat. I begged my parents to support my desire to attend school in either location. While our village had a government-run school offering classes up to 8th grade, it suffered from a severe lack of qualified teachers. The teachers' union hired unqualified individuals at minimal wages, and many teachers lived in Lamka, enjoying their salaries without coming to the school. I enrolled in the government school for 6th grade, but we rarely attended classes due to the absence of teachers. Every day, while helping my parents in the rice fields, I implored them to let me attend school in Lamka or Singngat.

 My father would often tell me that he could not afford to send me to school in Singngat or Lamka. He felt lost when it came to finding ways to pay for my tuition, which made him reluctant to consider my request. However, one day during the rice harvest, as I persistently asked for permission to go to school, my mother offered me some hope. She said, “Since you keep asking, why don’t you try again next year? I'll find ways to get the money for your tuition.” That was the most beautiful sound I had ever heard, and I would never forget it. I didn’t blame my father for his hesitation; he was genuinely concerned about our financial struggles. Every responsible parent in his position would likely act similarly. I owe my gratitude to my mother, who had the courage to say yes. Although my mother was illiterate and could not read or write in our language, my father had completed 9th grade in Tedim town during his youth. He understood the difficulties of studying away from home and wanted to spare me the bullying he had endured at school.

 With my mother’s support, my father didn’t oppose my decision to go. So in January 1994, I left for Singngat to continue my education. I rented a small house owned by Mr. Tualzalian, sharing it with two other students from Lungchin village. They were both older than me: U Tuangpi was in 9th grade, and Khuppu was in 8th grade, while I was in 6th grade.

My first day of school was both exciting and embarrassing. Wearing a school uniform for the first time felt thrilling, but I struggled to speak or understand English. I was overwhelmed by the announcements and lectures, as I had never attended an English medium school before. In my village, my class had only five students, and I often sat with 4th graders, with a total of around 20 students in one classroom. In contrast, at Hill Model School, I found myself in a class of about 70 students. Nervous and intimidated, I felt like I didn’t belong. Looking back, I realize how fortunate I was to attend a school where spoken English was prioritized by the teachers, and we were even punished for speaking our mother tongue.

 While I cannot claim to speak perfect English today, thanks to the solid educational foundation I received at Hill Model High School, I faced no major issues when I moved to America and had to communicate in English.

 Initially, I struggled to understand the language until summer vacation. Being the youngest in our rented house, my roommates occasionally bullied me, and we had some fights, making my living situation uncomfortable. Some students at school also bullied me, which added to the unpleasantness. With no older siblings or influential friends to defend me, I had to endure these challenges. I still remember one particular time when someone threw a rock at me, and it landed squarely on my head. The pain was excruciating, and I felt incredibly dizzy, yet I dared not tell anyone. I sat in the front seat of the classroom, a spot that most students avoided, alongside my friends Chinkhanmang and Khanlal. In our class, three students shared the same name: Thangmuanlal. To tell them apart, we referred to them by the initials of their clan names. I became very close friends with K. Thangmuanlal.

 Among my classmates, Ms. Chingngaihlun was considered one of the most beautiful girls. She happened to be the daughter of our vice-principal, Madam ZS, which only added to her allure. Every boy admired her beauty. Another notable student was Lallungmuani, the sister of our teacher, Ms. TPi. She was exceptionally smart and consistently topped the class. Not many boys had the courage to approach her, but I managed to build a great friendship with her, and we eventually became very close friends.

 After the summer vacation examination, in June 1994, I returned to my village for a month. Walking back home, I felt an immense sense of pride, reveling in the knowledge that I was one of the few students studying outside my village. It was a gratifying experience, and for the first time, I felt truly accomplished. By the last week of June, I had to return to Singngat Township for school again. I changed my address and began living with newfound relatives at Pu Suangin’s house. There, I grew close to his daughters, whom I affectionately called Nu Kim, Nu Vuvung, and Nu Lun Ngai Biaklun.

 For the first time, I watched the 1994 World Cup final between Brazil and Italy at Lambom Saulim in Singngat. The excitement of that event left a lasting impression on me. The following year, their married sister, Nu Mawi, and her husband, Pa Hau, invited me to live with them, so I moved again for the entirety of 1995 to attend 7th grade.

 During this year, I made many friends, including Khuma, Zomhinglian, Dinglianthang, and Khualpu. Khuma and Dinga were especially supportive, providing me with moral encouragement. I developed a crush on a beautiful girl named Linda Ngainunsang, who lived in our neighborhood and attended St. Joseph's School. However, she was out of my league, and as a poor boy from the village, I lacked the confidence to approach her. Khama and Dinga even spoke to her on my behalf, teasing me about my feelings, but it turned out she already had a boyfriend.

 In 7th grade, I saw significant improvement in my studies. I learned how to read and write in English, thanks in part to sitting next to my friend Zuava. He introduced me to Western music, sharing a songbook filled with works by artists like Bon Jovi, Bryan Adams, and The Eagles. I made copies of all his songs and was amazed by the variety. My friend K. Muanlal further expanded my musical horizons, introducing me to Smokie and other artists. He owned a tape recorder and cassettes featuring Western music, and he had an old acoustic guitar that we learned to play together. I memorized many Western songs, including ‘Please Forgive Me,’ ‘Always,’ and ‘In These Arms.’ This immersion in music significantly enhanced my spoken English.

 In my 8th-grade year, I moved into a tiny single house owned by Pu Tuanzakhup in Zoveng. I lived alone, but my brother Khaipu supported me by bringing rice and dried vegetables from our village each month. Life was tough; water was scarce, and cooking meals was quite a challenge. Despite these difficulties, I grew fond of living in Singngat town, eventually preferring it over my village.

 During 8th grade, a newspaper advertisement announced a statewide written exam competition for the National Scholastic Scholarship Award. I eagerly signed up and participated in the competition held in Tuibuang, Lamka. To my astonishment, I was selected for a four-year scholarship award. In January 1997, I underwent hernia repair surgery at Civil Hospital Lamka, where I stayed for two weeks to recover. During my hospital stay, my name appeared in the Manipur Express Newspaper as one of the awardees from the National Scholastic Talent Search. I was truly surprised by the significance of this achievement when I received congratulations from various educated individuals.

 Upon my recovery, I returned to Singngat in January to begin my 9th-grade school year, living with my friend K. Muanlal and his family. His father, Pu Thangcha, and mother, Pi Vung, were exceptionally generous to me, and I enjoyed living with them. Many students from my previous 8th-grade class had moved away, following the increasing tensions between the Kuki and Zomi communities. Unfortunately, just before the end of May 1997, rumors of a civil war breaking out between these groups began circulating. Pi Vung asked if I could help her during the June summer break instead of returning to Lungchin, but I felt a sense of obligation to my family and reluctantly refused her.

 On June 24, 1997, a devastating event occurred when Kuki militants opened fire on the Zomis in Saikul village, leading to the tragic deaths of ten people. This horrific incident ignited a civil war, forcing us to flee to Mizoram. As a result, I was unable to continue my studies in Singngat Township. The attack claimed the lives of several of my classmates and acquaintances, including Biaksang, Langsuanthang, and Mangmuan. In total, 26 people lost their lives in my village, Lungchin. Finally, I want to express my gratitude to all my teachers at Hill Model for their invaluable guidance and support. Special thanks go to Madam Zasiam, Sir Lunlal, Sir Dongzahau, and especially GL (Ginzalian) whose guidance and support have profoundly shaped my life. My journey at Hill Model High School remains a defining chapter of my life, filled with lessons in resilience, gratitude, and growth.

My teachers and their teachings have played a vital role in shaping who I am today.