11/6/2012 has bid
farewell to me for the longest time, leaving me alone, like, forever and ever. Even
if it isn’t my sweetheart having gotta leave me somehow! It’s left me just like
a useless old piece of New Straits Time newspaper tossed by the street, just waiting
for the rain to fall and get wet. C’mon!
The date means a lot to me, to be honest. It won’t ever come back even
for another zillion years to come, for sure. I know. Nor even in the next
year’s calendar. Once in a lifetime, in fact. But, what makes it so special to
me, anyway?
Is
it my twenty-fourth birthday? Of course not!
It’s not just a date. Like other ordinary dates in many years. It’s like
a-date-to-remember in my 100 year life, I guess. But I’ve just lived on earth
for no more than 24 years, anyway. Uh-oh. Honest mistake.
Although the date’s gone for ages
and will be vanishing in the world before long, I feel as though it was just
yesterday. Somewhat complicated for a
too young guy like me to convince myself very proudly that today, I’ve been a
school teacher for the last seven months! Seven months! I repeat.
OMG…what
a success! I fancy screaming like hell at this second! As if I wanna let the
world know about this good news. Only if were I nuts.
The date’s still freshly in my mind like fresh fruits – no question! As
if it was just yesterday. As if I just got working at this rural
secondary school. I think you ought to congratulate me on my success. The
success which is all on the account of the longest working period in the
history of my life. LOL. Again, what makes the date June 11 so special,
anyway?
Once upon a time back in June – 11/6/2012. The huge clock on the staff
room wall near Cikgu Ling Kok Jing’s table said seven o’clock prompt, in the
morning. West Malaysia’s time. I need to mention so just because Sarawak
‘receives’ the sunrise an hour earlier than Peninsular Malaysia. My geographic
knowledge. Where the hell was I up to? Daydreaming of a Princess Charming?
Heehee…
I was so impatiently looking forward to walking into my very
first class. Allegedly. Which meant another two hours and forty minutes away.
Just like me back at Uni when I couldn’t wait for my boring Sociology of
Education lecture ended.
It
was just because my lecturer spoke Indian English (He comes from an island
country named Sri Lanka) which I found it really hard to figure his lecture out.
His English sounded a little annoying most of the time. The lecture took 2
hours which I was sure the admin had made a mistake. They should shorten it to only
half an hour. Heehee…
After a couple of hours waiting, now it’s time to begin my first step,
heading to Class Form 3 Bestari. The class is said to be the smartest of all. Its
location is on the third floor of the academic building. It’s the last one of
the third-floor corridor! If using the shortcut, I most usually use the second
stairs next to musalla.
I
won’t use the shortcut just to get to the class more quickly. No way. The only
reason for using the shortcut is because, (Please don’t laugh.) should I be in
the mood of fashion, I would rather use the first stairs as I know I can surely
hold a “fashion show”, walking as arrogantly as a popular superstar, displaying
my so-called costly attire whilst heading straight to the last class
confidently. Like a cat-walk? Oh please! But then, can’t deny, my students
always find me attractive to be looked at, I suppose. Heehee…
To get there, I’ll have to walk few meters past the Multi-purpose Room,
PSV Room, Senior Assistants offices, sewing workshop and musalla, of
course.
As I walked, I had no idea how I was feeling. Either delighted or
probably not! The unseen brain deep in my head couldn’t help thinking about the
induction set – what I was gonna begin my P & P. Even though I knew that the
first day of teaching must always be preceded with an ice-breaking
session. Oh God. “I was damn nervous!”
Something’s crossing in my mind. Aha. First impression! Yeah I recalled.
“What’d I be like? A starving skinny lion? Or maybe a nervous little kitten?” I
found myself thinking pretty hard to find an answer. Slightly serious and
focused. Reminding myself about my lecturer’s advice, Dr Zainurin Abdul Rahman often
insisted, “First impression really counts!”
I
can still remember his lion-like face briefing us over a post-mortem on our
teaching observation – but frankly, I wasn’t the least bit scared. He’s merely
a handsome man, not an ugly ghost.
Why
does one’s first impression matter? Do you know?
A teacher has gotta be careful or he’s dead?! The first class session is
most typically when students acting like a doctor attending a patient make an
evaluation of their teacher. The teacher’s behaviour. The teacher’s
characteristics.
“Am
I too fierce like a tiger? Ngauumm!!! Or too subtle like a homosexual? Hi
Darling muah muah! Or, maybe, as friendly as Dato’ Siti Nurhaliza? Or as funny as
Johan Raja Lawak?” They themselves will make their mind up.
Upon arriving at Class Form 3 Bestari, I randomly observed the students’
behaviour in the class from outside. Like a cheetah looking for a victim. I
didn’t walk to the class directly. I conversely headed to the corner beside the
back class door watching the nice, stunning, evergreen view of Kampung Rassau –
mostly occupied by Christian Ibans.
I could make a prediction that there were a few students of that class
observing my react. They might be identifying, “Who’s that handsome tall man
standing outside?”
Of my observation, they could be guessing whether or not I was the new
English teacher. I’m telling you, I like it when they had to wait and wonder for
the answer! Because I so proudly wanted to tell them that I wasn’t an
ordinary English teacher ‘imported’ from the Peninsula. I was a mantop
one! ROFL.
I then walked into the class with overconfidence. I whereupon headed to
a dusty teacher desk whereby it’s located right in the middle of the front part
of the class. Behind the teacher table is actually a rectangular-shaped
blackboard together with a whiteboard. “Err…this is pretty good. I may utilize
both. I may write more on both of them! Leaving the students a whole lot of
exercises and much more homework? Heehee…
The class monitor, Ferrylyse shortly stood up and bade me ‘Selamat pagi,
Cikgu!’ and then followed loudly by the rest of the class. Now, every one of
the 3 Bestari students was respectively looking straight at me. A new cute
teacher who seemed too young to work in the teaching profession. I knew I must
be looking good. My face must look freaking serious.
I responded in a teacher-like tone, “Good morning. Sit down.” They’re
allowed to have a seat afterwards. The English response obviously indicated
that the standing teacher before them wasn’t teaching any other subjects but
the English language. The killer subject. That’s why I’ve gotta look like a
killer too, have I not?
According to the properly suggested agenda, the induction set would be
an ice-breaking session. Guess what I was gonna do? Having every student
introduce themselves? Or, probably, having them recite a Malay poem? Usman
Awang’s Guru Oh Guru poem for example as to celebrate my first day
working? Absolutely not! This wasn’t a Music class, was it?
I wasn’t that fascinated to know every student’s name since I allegedly
believe in my own theory that I’ll get to know them once I’ve begun teaching
them. Sooner or later, I’d have known them more than a name. Day by day, week
by week… I’ll as well know their characters. School students regularly have a
variety of negative characteristics. Just few are positive. And, that it easy!
I didn’t put any high expectation, anyway.
Amongst the kind faces in front
of me, some are lazybones, some too much pampered like a baby, some arrogant,
some mischievous like monkeys, some passionate and diligent and some smart and
some…stupid? Smart alec? Erm… maybe few. Their respective characters would be evaluated
thoroughly without giving them any grades. I would if they bothered
finding it out. I’d already dreamt of the grade-giving session in class.
“You
(idiot), of my thorough twelve month observation, you only deserve a C+ for
your behaviour evaluation. Hope you’d keep improving your behaviour afterward.
Good luck (little jerk),” I heard myself saying.
The class of Form 3 Bestari occupies 21 students. Of that number, only
five of them are males. And the rest are certainly females (excluding
homosexuals, if there’s any). So proud that there are three Muslim Melanau
students in the class: Faridatul Syafiqah sitting in the second row and Arni
the first front row of the middle part of the class and not forgetting Azura
sitting in the last row at the back of the right part of the class. All the
three students (are to) wear hijab to school (or otherwise I think they
wouldn’t do that though it’s compulsory in Islam.)
Talking about nationality, the majority of the students is Melanau and
the minority is Iban. It can be practically said that 95% of the total number
of this secondary school students practice Christianity. It’s a new challenge
in my life I have to undergo as a teacher. Not as easy as ABC when we teach
non-Muslim students who don’t even share the same religious belief with us. I
swear. As a matter of fact, lots of forbidden things too. Mind our language.
I
mention Zikr Allah every so often with the intention of converting my students
to Islam. Please, don’t tell them about this. Laa ikra ha fiddin. There’s no
force in Islam. All I do is simply an endeavour.
Using the highest tone, like a popular singer, I presented myself to the
class. I can’t have them knowing everything about me. Or else things wouldn’t
be fun! They gotta seek it out on their own, as though they could google my
name on the Net. Like a celebrity. I told them my full name which is crucial
and it’s a must-remember name or their marks would be deducted without any
consideration. I mean it. How cruel I am! I’ve never done this, though.
Besides all those ordinary matters, I too chanced to tell them all the
way I got there during my first day I was posted at the rural school. Which I
felt fucking upset in the first place for having to live in that rural
area. With no roadways! No electric? No town nearby? Ah, damn! Even worse, no cell
phone coverage?! Fuck!
I narrated all the journey, flights starting from Peninsular Malaysia to
East Malaysia, to the ‘Land of Hornbill’. All I’m able to recall, they couldn’t
help laughing out loud like crazy (Oh my God) when I deliberately used the verb
‘terbang’ (fly) which is supposed to mean ‘get on a plane’. Anyhow, I got it
that they were only pulling my legs. Thought they were ‘evaluating’ me! – First
impression really counts, remember? But I shan’t have them doing such a stupid evaluation.
Using
the verb ‘terbang’ (fly) sounds more boastful and high-class. I wanted them to
feel a little jealous. LOL.
As soon as the ice-breaking session was over, for the following
activity, we talked over a bit pertaining to the topics they had already learnt
before I took over. It freaked me out big time as I was informed that they
hardly learnt anything. Although it’s already in June?! What the fuck
had the school been up to? It’s just another three months to go prior to the
big exam. PMR. What a pity!
The English language class would be ending soon. I had had them take a
piece of A4 paper out. Then, I wrote down on the blackboard every item I wanted
them to fill in on that A4 paper. All info regarding their biodatas such as
name, home address, pastime(s), favourite food and beverages and all that. Favourite
teacher was excluded. Because I knew they mightn’t yet be willing to put my
name as their favourite teacher. I was still new and had just gotten my first teaching
started. “What can I expect?” I thought.
The idea of the task was picked from my former teacher back in secondary
school. Approximately 11 years ago. My Form 2 Science teacher named Mrs Salbiah
Dagang – wow! Can still remember her full name after 11 years?! I know. I’m
smart – used to instruct our class to do the same task on our first Science
class.
In my opinion, this really matters because that way eases me to know
them even better. All that night long, I’d been reading their written biodatas.
I must say I was quite impressed. Even though a small number of them had real
bad handwriting.
Today, so incredible that the school breaks will be ending pretty soon.
In a couple of weeks’ time. And I hate to come back! I’ve known my 3 Bestari
students’ characteristics really well now. I know which one is so lazy and
which is completely hardworking. I sure can tell you now but I choose to keep
it confidential. Besides, our student-teacher relationship is getting way
closer than ever.
Is
it because of my natural friendliness? Or my handsomeness? And that’s why they
like meeting me a lot often that some teachers envy with me.
I admit. Nearly all my students I’ve taught look much friendlier with
me. I’m so OK with them. Guess what? Few students seem to have been too close to
me. Like a bosom friend. Well…I’ve never ever forced them but they themselves
choose to get closer to me. What to do? I notice things have changed a lot for
the last three months. How come? I dunno. Only do they know why. I like it, you
know. Let them be. Vote for me. Lemme win the Most Popular Teacher Ever award.
In my dream.
I
wanna tell you that you’re about to find out what makes June 11, 2012 so special
to me. All you’re required to do is read on.
For the very first time I saw this school prefect, I becamse rather shy.
His name is, um…I’d better use an acronym for his name, HE. He looked smart in
his black blazer with a dark blue tie. Indeed, he forever is. At the time I was
standing before him, he looked pretty enthusiastic. As if what I was a great
scholar. (Sorry. I can be such a boastful person at times.)
On top of that, he’s the only male student sitting in the first row in
the middle part of the class. His neighbours are a couple of females. Errica
Florencia sitting on his right while Arni, also a school prefect, sitting on
his left. He was like a Prime Charming there. He totally deserved my genuine
compliment for his passion in studies. I can see that.
Additionally, every time people mention about Form 3 Bestari, I couldn’t
help remembering him. As though the class and him can’t be separated. Like a
loving couple or so. It’s slightly complicated for me to memorise his name
actually. Because, you know what? Most Melanaus and Ibans’ names sound like Mat
Salleh’s (English’s). The distinction is that their mother tongue isn’t
English. Plus, they’re unable to speak English fluently either.
The funniest moment in that class I ever did was when I miscalled his
name. Unintentionally I called him ‘halilintar’. (By this time, you could guess
what his name is. Do guess. Heehee.) Something unintended coming out of my bloody
mouth.
Things became even more embarrassing when the whole of his classmates
began laughing out loud at him. Oh HE, poor little thing. That embarrassing incident
made me remember his name till today, though. And surely I can’t forget that.
Although it took place six months ago.
Who could ever suppose that me and the school prefect have been this
close today? Like my BFF. And, I tell you, there is something I can’t
forget about this student. One day, he texted me saying that “Inilah guru
(yang) terbaik yang pernah saya jumpa.” (Translated: This is the best
teacher I’ve ever met.) As I read the sms, I became speechless. Immediately.
Deep in my heart I wonder, “Oh really?” (Can’t hide that I was overwhelmed by
the feeling of pride.)
Things are getting all miserable and I’ve no idea how I shall undergo
all this later. Can’t believe he would probably transfer to another school! I’m
sure he 100% will. He’s selecting a better school for him. For his forthcoming
future. For his brighter future. He is a smart student. I know.
Excellent not only in academic but also in co-curricular activities. You know
what? I feel just envious of him occasionally.
Yet, for the sake of his brighter, more promising future, a
better school is more eligible for him to pursue his high school studies. I
want him to succeed, for sure. Although I know I’m gonna have to bid a farewell
to him next year. Although I know I’m gonna miss him so much. Although I know I’m
gonna feel fucking reluctant to let him go. But, what else can I do?
Kidnap him?!
Due to his loss, I’ve gotta suffer. I’ll have to accept our destiny that
one day, I shall somehow leave him forever and ever. Farewell is full of
pain and bitterness. But I’m just an ordinary school teacher after all. Hope I’ll
have the guts when the day comes. Insha-Allah.
To
my beloved student, HE, please don’t forget me. All the best on your studies.
PS:
What’s the student’s full name? Lemme the only one here who knows, OK?
