Quest Alumni Journeys Series

On a bright morning half a century ago, a young man arrived at 1 Strathmore Road astride his Vespa scooter. Jacket on, helmet in one hand and a letter of posting in the other, he carried himself with quiet confidence as he reported to Queenstown Secondary Technical School. Yet when he stood before the principal, he was mistaken for someone else entirely,

​

“We don’t need another servant,” the principal said,

confusing him for one of the Operations Support Officers, then known as school servants. It was a misunderstanding that could have stung, but Mr Sairi, calm and graceful even then, placed the letter on the desk and gently corrected the error.

​

“I am not the new servant. I am the new art teacher.”

​

But perhaps, in the more profound sense of the word, he was destined to be both. For fifty years, he has served: his students, his school, and the spirit of education itself. Who would have known, on that morning of mistaken identity, that this man would go on to become the longest-serving art teacher in the history of Queenstown Secondary?

​

The First Ripple

The Queenstown he entered was still young, raw, and practical in its outlook. As a technical school, it was better equipped with lathes, drills, and workbenches than easels or paintbrushes. Art was considered an afterthought, even a luxury. When Mr Sairi asked where he might keep his materials, he was told to rummage behind the workshops and take whatever discarded cupboards he could find.

​

There was no art room, no cupboard of brushes waiting, no shelves lined with paper or paint. He had to go to another school to borrow the scheme of work, adapting lessons on the fly. In those early days, teaching art felt like painting on an empty canvas. But instead of despairing, he took it as a challenge. What heartened him was that the students were responsive, eager to learn. With what little he had, he began nurturing creativity in them.

​

This ability to make something out of nothing would define his career. Where others shrugged at broken furniture, he built an art room, where others dismissed art, he gave it dignity, and where others looked down on Normal-stream students, he saw their potential.

​

Against the Current

Within two years, he realised that lower secondary art was not enough. His students, some of them naturally talented, needed a pathway beyond the basics. “Without continuation, their learning feels wasted,” he told the principal.

​

It was not common then for technical schools to offer art in upper secondary. But his conviction carried weight. Soon, Queenstown became one of the rare schools that allowed students to take art all the way to O-levels. Nobody knew that Mr Sairi was the catalyst for this decision, except the principal and himself.

​

The change shaped lives. One could trace the paths of architects, designers, and artists back to that single moment of advocacy. To them, art was no longer a pastime. It was a subject worth pursuing, a possible career, a way of seeing the world.

Widening Horizons

Many believed art was a “non-thinking” subject, but Mr Sairi’s lessons were never confined to technique alone. He challenged students to look deeper, to stretch their imagination beyond the obvious.

​

A theme like dry up could mean desert sands and brittle leaves, but why not also the emptiness of a wallet, the exhaustion of resources, or the loneliness of being forgotten?

In his classroom, art became a bridge to empathy. Students were asked not only to draw, but to feel, to tell stories, to reflect on the human condition.

​

At the same time, he taught resilience. Materials were scarce, but creativity thrived. Broken rulers, discarded cardboard, even offcuts from the workshops became tools for learning. In this way, he instilled not just skills, but a mindset: to improvise, to adapt, to find beauty even in the overlooked.

​

Tides of Change

Over the course of fifty years, countless students passed through his classroom. Some carried his lessons for a lifetime.

​

There was the girl from a family under strain who found solace in art after school. On his own accord, Mr Sairi offered oil painting classes to students who showed potential. Oil painting became her sanctuary. She stayed late each evening, sometimes refusing to leave until he did. With encouragement, she pursued formal art studies, excelled, and eventually earned a scholarship to an art university in Taiwan, where she is now pursuing her master’s degree. She is one of his proudest stories.

There was the boy who showed talent in art, but who broke his arm playing football and lost confidence in himself. Mr Sairi reminded him of his gift. That encouragement made a difference; today, he is an architect.

​

One Teacher’s Day, some mischievous boys from a Normal Technical class hoisted his Vespa onto the school’s concrete ping-pong table as a prank. They laughed then, but years later those identical boys returned as successful men, grateful for his guidance, embracing and thanking Mr Sairi, their form teacher, for lifting them beyond what they had ever imagined.

​

Such moments cannot be measured in medals or titles. They are the silent rewards of a life of service.

​

Anchored in Service

The irony of his first day never faded. Once mistaken for a servant, he came to embrace the highest meaning of the word. To serve, for him, was not menial work. It was devotion, an offering of time, energy, and care.

​

He served his students, noticing the boy who was late because he had to care for his younger brother, or the girl who lingered in class because home was too lonely. He served his colleagues by conducting workshops on pyrography and wood-burning, freely sharing his techniques. He served the wider community, defending children at the mosque school who could not afford fees, insisting that they should not be left behind.

​

And above all, he served art itself. At a time when many dismissed and labelled Normal-stream students as “rubbish,” believing they took art only because they were weak in other subjects, he stood up for them and for the discipline. He argued that even rubbish contained carbon, and with enough pressure, carbon became diamonds. His advocacy elevated the status of art within the school and the system.

​

Weathering the Storms

How does one endure five decades in the same school when others transfer after only a few? Mr Sairi’s answer was simple: take each day as it comes. Finish it with integrity, then begin again tomorrow.

​

He seldom took medical leave. Even when he was unwell, he insisted on going to school. His wife used to tease him about this stubborn streak, telling relatives,

​

“This Sairi, he thinks if he never shows up, the whole school will surely close down because of him”

​

It was said half in jest, half in admiration. For Mr Sairi, being present was not just a duty, but devotion. His students needed him, and he would not let them down.

​

​

He also continued to learn alongside his students, mastering new tools so he could teach them with confidence. He readily adopted technology, photography, and video editing, even when they were unfamiliar. “If I don’t know it myself, I cannot teach it,” he explained.

​

Most of all, he found joy. “Enjoy your relationship with your students,” he often told younger teachers. “Once you enjoy, it becomes fun.”

​

Harbour of Home

Through it all, Queenstown Secondary was not just a workplace. It became home. Students returned long after graduation, sometimes decades later, simply to see him. Security officers remarked that visitors often asked only for Mr Sairi. Upon registration, they would head straight for the art room. Over the years, new officers learned quickly that Mr Sairi was someone special to many generations.

​

Some called him Papa. Others, Grandpa. Once, when Mr Sairi was down with illness and a relief teacher took his class, a student even shouted: “We want our grandpa! We want our Datuk, Mr Sairi!”

​

Before the start of this very interview, Mr Sairi confessed how anxious he felt. He had spent time preparing, worried that he might misrepresent the school. This is the mark of a man who carries both his students and his school in his heart.

​

They remembered not only the lessons, but the love. For Mr Sairi, this sense of family was the greatest reward.

​

The Endless Sea

If his teaching life could be captured in a single artefact, he said, it would be titled Riding the Wave. Teaching, like the sea, is never calm for long. There are storms of mischief, tides of change, and waves of challenge. Yet with dedication, passion and resilience, one can ride each wave until it carries you into calm waters.

​

That, to him, was the art of teaching. Not the creation of perfect still life, but the practice of fluidity, adjustment, courage and grace.

​

The Shoreline of Legacy

Now, at the end of fifty years, Mr Sairi’s masterpiece is not framed in any gallery. It lives in the architects who once held pencils in their class, in the designers who once doodled on scrap paper, in the teachers who once learned to see through his eyes. It lives in every alumnus who returns, whether with laughter or tears, to thank him.

Once mistaken for a servant, he has left a legacy of serving. And in the quiet balance of brush and heart, he has shown that life is not about standing still, but about daring to move, adjusting to the rhythm, and always finding the strength to ride the waves.

Our Papa. Our Grandpa. Our Art Teacher Forever: Mr Sairi Bakiri