By Mark Featherstone

I moved to Singapore in the last days of July 2006. Nothing prepares you for living in a place except living there. And you get to know people only by working with them and, at least in the case of a professor, teaching them.

It's been three years now. If you've read any of my previous columns, you'll know that I have enjoyed much about life in Singapore. I know I complain, but that's somewhat tongue in cheek. (Why let the facts spoil a good grouse?)

My enjoyment of Singapore comes in no small measure from a sense, however tenuous and fragile, that I have made a home here. I'm not fooling myself. No Singaporean will ever see me as 'one of theirs', regardless of citizenship. But there are areas in which I have made connections that are important to me.

I suppose most of us like to fit in. Some do this by imposing their wishes, standards and behaviour on those around them. They don't fit in so much as force others to fit them. That's something I was never good at, though life would be easier if I could. Instead, I naturally try to accommodate.

This motivation to accommodate is assisted - and I would guess this is true for many ang mohs - by a feeling, close to guilt, that I must make amends.

On the one hand, I must atone for the injustices wrought by the white colonial imperialists who are my forebears. On the other hand, I must counter the perception that the boorish hordes of overpaid ang mohs enjoy the good life on the backs of hardworking Singaporeans. I'll leave it to you to decide how much of these feelings are justified and how much should be treated by a qualified professional.

I have already written about how the birth of my daughter in Singapore has given me a personal stake in this country. My work has also provided another couple of opportunities for true engagement.

One such opportunity involves the people in my laboratory, a team of technicians, post-doctoral fellows, graduate students and undergraduates. They come from Singapore, China, India and Malaysia, and together make it a pleasure for me to come to work each day. Although they may see me as 'boss', they are the ones who have given me the gift of acceptance.

Another area is in my teaching of this country's children (and, no less important, those from abroad). Of course, university students are young adults, and most of the Singaporean guys in my courses will have already done two years of national service, meaning they have seen more of adult life than I have. But each girl and guy is also somebody's child.

Like mothers and fathers everywhere, Singaporean parents want the best for their children, and that includes the best education. So whether a student has freely chosen to come to the Nanyang Technological University or has felt the heavy hand of parental authority pushing them here, I have been given a trust. That trust is one motivation to try to teach well.

The other motivation is pure terror. If you think I want to suffer the derision of a theatre full of pretty young women and cool guys, you don't know me very well. Maybe that's why I try to inject humour into my lectures. Better to have the students laughing at something on the projection screen than at me.

But the humour really does serve a purpose. Any teacher faces - or should face - the problem of keeping their students focused on what is being taught over a grinding two-hour lecture. Very few students can do it without some help. I certainly couldn't when I was an undergraduate.

That's what the humour provides - a bit more oxygen to the brain at the right moment so that the student is actually awake when you deliver the important stuff. The real trick is to make the humour reinforce what is being taught. When I can make that happen, it's quite a rush.

The students have responded with great generosity and real appreciation. They have allowed me, a foreigner, to tickle their collective funny bone and, more importantly, allowed themselves to partake in my enthusiasm for science. That doesn't make me a local, but it sure helps.

And just in case you think I'm a softie: No talking in class!

Mark Featherstone, a Canadian, is a professor at the School of Biological Sciences, Nanyang Technological University. This is his last Ex-Pat Files column.

This article was first published in The Straits Times.