My Nemesis

At HKU in 1949, classes were very small. Remember, the total student body was only around 800. 

There were four Schools - School of Arts, School of Engineering, School of Science, and School of Medicine. I entered the School of Arts.

We had lectures and tutorials. For lectures, the small classes gathered in classrooms to listen to the Lecturers - our Professors. Then, we formed small groups of 3 to 5 each and were assigned to be under certain Professors (our Mentors) for tutorials every week. We were given assignments and had to read books, write papers, and so on. There were no monthly tests or quizzes - none of that Multiple choices or True or False tests. We had discussions and debates. The Yearly Finals in April determined your fate. 
At the Finals, for each Subject, you have three hours to write essays in answering the few questions on the exam paper. That was the Exam. Passing or failing depended on this once-a-year deal.

In Shanghai, I had World History, which was taught in Chinese by Chinese teachers. Here in Hong Kong, listening to a cockney lady from East end of London, with the most monotonous voice, rambling on and on with a number of strange names and facts (which to me, at the time, was stranger than fiction) that I could hardly comprehend, I was lost most of the time. 
Tutorial in History did not help much, because I was too shy to speak-up. I usually took the assignments and managed to read and write about them somehow. I seldom voiced my opinions at the tutorials. On the surface, I did all right. 
I probably should have asked for help when I had trouble understanding what we were doing, but I didn't. My Prof. did not have enough sensibility to spot my problems. So, I muddled through - from day-one to April.
To read hundreds or even thousands of pages of World History in English, and to try to memorize all the names, details, and the many events was beyond me. So when the time came for the Finals, I sat for the Exam, and I Failed.

I was devastated.

Before we were dismissed and sent home, the results of the Exams came out and they were posted on the Big Board for everyone to see.

I was in the hallway, in front of the Big Board.

I found out the results of the Exams - A+ for Chinese, Pass for both English and Psychology. FAIL for History. I nearly died on the spot. 

Prof. Mary, one of my English Professors (I cannot even remember her last name now) saw me.
Prof. Mary was not much older than I. She was from England and spoke King's English, so she must have come from Oxford or Cambridge or one of the top Universities in England. She was a likeable, learned, and an individualistic lady. She, of course, had already known that I failed in History. She asked me to go into her office, she set me down, and told me that she wanted to know Why this happened because I was, she said, a good student, and had done so well in Chinese. She said that she wanted to help me.
With controlled sobs, I told her how I could not understand the lectures and so on. 
"A language problem," she said.
Then she proceeded to tell me that, in order for me to conquer this, I was to read everything that I could get my hands on, from nursery rhymes, children's stories, essays, and short- stories to beyond. Read at least a book a day. Read Mythology, read fables, read the Bible - anything in English that I encountered until I solved my Problem. (I became a regular at the Library and became our Librarian's pet. Later on, I even worked as a Librarian.)

Now the system was such, when you failed one Subject for the Year, you have to repeat every Subject of that Year to Pass. Was I up to this, mentally and physically? She promised to guide me during the summer months, and may be beyond, and urged me to swallow my pride and forge ahead, and take the First Year again in the fall.
I Agreed.

My parents were very understanding. They did not chide me or punish me - which made me feel even worse. My father's only concern was: he did not think it was necessary for me to further my education. For one, it was costly. For another, the more educated I was the more I would not be able to find a husband. Men wanted their little wives, less-educated and so on.
My Number Three Grand Uncle stepped in. He told my father, "If the girl (meaning me) wants to go back to school, you should support her." 

So, I read everything that I could get my hands on, from "Mary had a little lamb" to stories for children and to Charles Dickens and beyond. I met with Prof. Mary all summer regularly. My English improved, in leaps and bounds.
Swallowing my pride, I entered HKU in the fall, again as a First Year student.

At the end of the year, I made the Honor Roll.