My Favourite Teacher

Last week, class 3 Sabar studied the art of writing an essay. I prepared a sample on 'Hobi Saya' and was all worked up to teach them all.

Alas, Fatimah told me they had made one of those. Darn.

So you had me, one bidan terjun, teaching them how to write an essay entitled 'Guru Kesayangan Saya'.

Great. I was ill-prepared, but I did okay. I think. Man, teaching had made me all gooey into one self-concious person.

The slimy part was, given the topic, nearly everyone went haywire with "Teacher, what's your full name?", "Where did you live?" and "When is your birthday?"

Which I replied initially with, "Guys, why me?"

Most of the boys weren't respectively seated, including one contagiously grinning Raimi. "Have you written yours, Raimi?"

"Not yet."

"Because?"

"I don't have a favourite."

"Just name one of your teachers. It can't be that hard."

"Okay. Rosli Jaffar."

"Raimi," I sighed to which his grin widen. "Mr. Rosli Jaffar is an accountant."

Another difficult student was Hussain. He blurted out frankly that he refused to write that day. After that, he disturbed Majdi and his writing. I pulled him out of the class.

"It's one thing if you refuse to study, but it's another if you disturb others, Hussain. Now stand here until you repent."

After a while, the boy was called inside. Still, he refused to write and I pulled him towards the back of the class and squatted by his side.

"How are you today?"

"What? Oh, I'm fine."

"You've breakfasted?"

"Just a slice of bread."

"If you want, we could go grab a bite. After-" I was cut of by the arrival of a hurdle of kids, eager to listen to the private conversation. "Hey, get back to writing, guys!"

I walked back towards the front of the class after Hussain refused to go back to his seat, leaving him and Raimi at the back.

"Teacher!" Ikbal called out after a moment. "Hussain's crying!"

"What happened?" I scurried towards him whose head was covered by his arms. Raimi was dutifully patting his back. "You weren't crying when I left you here."

I squatted down, glancing at Raimi. "What's wrong?"

"He just wanted your attention, teacher."

And with that, Hussain looked up, grinning.

Argh!

"Both of you! In your seat. Now!"

When it came to the part of reason for being the favourite, everyone was rather blurred. "You can't simply favour someone without a reason, now, can you?"

"I don't really know the reason." Atiq said.

"Okay, let me see whose name you've written." I glanced at his book and chuckled half-heartedly. My name was boldly written. "Atiq, why did you favour me?"

"Ah! Because Teacher Atiqah treats us to ice cream!"

"Because of that?" I muttered. It was quite heart-wrenching.

At the end of the one-hour class, I came to know that they haven't made any essay entitled 'Hobi Saya'. That Fatimah, I'd be sure to bite her head off the next time I see her.

Just now, I had finish writing a sample essay on 'Guru Kesayangan Saya'. Ironically, the 90-words essay took me hours to complete, instead of the one hour consumed for me to write a 700-words SPM essay.

Guru adalah orang yang mengajar kita samada di sekolah mahupun di luar sekolah. Setiap pelajar mempunyai guru kesayangan masing-masing termasuklah diri saya.

Guru kesayangan saya bernama Rahmah Mahmood dan beliau berusia 51 tahun. Beliau telah mengajar saya Matematik sejak saya di darjah satu lagi.

Saya amat menyayangi guru saya kerana beliau seorang yang tegas dan berdedikasi dalam tugasnya. Walaupun saya agak nakal ketika belajar, Cikgu Rahmah tidak jemu mengajar dan menasihati saya agar saya berjaya di dalam hidup saya.

Saya amat bersyukur kerana mendapat guru yang ceria dan baik. Budi yang telah dicurahkan oleh guru akan saya kenang selama-lamanya.

It was such an achievement, an 18-year-old writing a Standard 3 essay.

p/s:

"29th July, teacher?" One grinning Raimi asked.

"Yup."

"Mine's 26th."