Mendung di Pagi, Ribut di Tengahari

Hari ini amat teruk. Saya tertinggal solat Dhuha.

Masa jaga kelas 3 Sabar untuk peperiksaan Akhlak mereka, mereka siap awal. Setengah jam sahaja sudah siap.

Mereka bermain dalam kelas.

Saya penat. Tak tahu kenapa. Jadi saya senyap dan jeling mereka. Marah apabila dah tak larat dan duduk di atas kerusi.

Raimi bermain dalam kelas. Dia duduk di atas kerusi saya apabila saya bangun mendapatkan pelajar lain. Saya terpaksa duduk di kerusi Hilman.

Seketika kemudia, dia berdiri di atas kerusi saya. Berkasut.

"Haish."

Dia ketawa.

Seketika kemudian, dia bergomol dengan Hussain. Hussain mencampakkan pembaris panjang merahnya ke luar tingkap.

Hussain berlari keluar tanpa izin saya.

"Teacher! Hussain campak pembaris kita! Nak pergi ambil!"

Dan dia berlari keluar sebelum sempat saya berkata apa-apa.

Raja mengekorinya. Sekali lagi, tanpa keizinan saya.

Saya mengerutkan muka. Nakalnya dia hari ni. Saya berpaling kepada Ikbal. "Ikbal tolong jaga kelas."

Saya keluar dan ternampak Hussain berlari masuk membawa pembaris merah Raimi. Saya nak marah. Pembaris dah dibawa masuk, mana tuannya?

Baru sahaja saya nak mencari Raimi dan Raja, mereka berdua muncul. Raimi memegang pembarisnya.

Hussain mencampak pembaris itu semula nampaknya. Haish.

"Masuk kelas." Saya berdiri di anak tangga.

"Teacher, kita nak ke tandas."

Saya mengerutkan muka tanda tidak setuju. Dia tersengih dan beredar.

Bersama Raja.

Dan Atiq. Dan Hussain.

Saya terlalu penat. Tak tahu kenapa.

Muallimah Tengku Hairani nampak mereka keluar. Masalah bertambah.

"Kenapa ni, keluar kelas? Masuk!!" Saya terkedu.

Atiq dan Hussain berlari masuk.

Muallimah masuk ke kelas. "Kenapa ni, semua tak duduk tempat?! Duduk tempat sekarang!"

Mereka berkejaran ke tempat masing-masing.

"Kenapa pengawas pun main di luar? Mana dia Raimi? Raimi! Masuk!"

Raimi segera berlari ke tempat duduknya. Muka terkejut.

"Kenapa main dekat luar? Buat perangai lagi, muallimah pecat Raimi!"

Dan muallimah berpaling keluar dari kelas.

Saya...

Saya malu.

Rasa amat teruk.

Saya terduduk di kerusi saya.

Budak-budak semua duduk di tempat masing-masing, menyalahkan satu sama lain.

Saya penat. Kenapa, ye?




Waktu rehat.

"Raimi, kenapa nakal sangat hari ni?" Suara saya lembut.

"Eh, kita tak nakal." Dia bermain; tidak melihat saya.

"Kenapa keluar ke tandas tak minta izin teacher?"

"Kita minta dah!"

"Teacher tak kata apa-apa pun." Saya menyilangkan lengan di hadapan.

"Dalam hati teacher kata." Dia meniru.

"Dalam hati teacher kata tak boleh."

Dia terdiam. Ikbal yang mendengar turut terdiam.

Raimi tersengih seperti biasa. Terus menendang tanah seorang diri.

"Tengok tu." Saya mengeluh kecil. Sakitnya hati. "Teacher cakap, bukannya Raimi dengar."

Dia diam. Berhenti bermain.

Dan saya berpaling ke dalam kelas untuk mengambil barang-barang saya.




Sejam sudah berlalu. Saya terpaksa masuk ke kelas 3 Sabar menggantikan Muallimah Azila yang cuti sakit.

Saya masih lagi berkecil hati.

Mereka mula bising bertanyakan soalan apabila ternampak saya.

Saya arahkan mereka senyap.

Raja tidak. Saya rampas kertas ujiannya.

Kelas terdiam.

Lima minit kemudian, saya serahkannya kembali.

Sepanjang kelas, Raimi tidak bersuara melainkan bertanyakan soalan kepada saya. Saya tidak menghiraukannya selain dari itu.

Hazim amat nakal. Dia bermain dengan botol air Raja, mengetukkannya di meja dengan kuat.

Dua kali amaran dan dia masih meneruskannya. Saya merampasnya dari tangan budak itu dan mencampakkannya ke luar tingkap.

Ikbal protes. "Teacher, kesian Raja!"

"Bukan salah teacher." Saya berkerut. "Salah Hazim sebab main."

Seketika kemudian, Hazim bangun dari tempatnya dan bermain dengan pembaris merah Raimi, pembaris biru dan pemadam Raja.

Saya melarangnya. Dia tidak mempedulikan.

"Hazim, amaran terakhir. Simpan, duduk."

Dia menggeleng.

Saya pantas mengambil barang-barang tersebut dan mencampakkannya ke luar tingkap.

Raimi menggeleng, tersenyum kecil dan meraut wajahnya.

Saya amat marah dengan Hazim.

"Teacher! Kesian ke Raimi!"

Saya memandang pengawas tersebut. Dia diam. Saya tahu dia tahu saya masih marahkannya.

"Habis tu? Hazim yang main, salah dia. Teacher dah bagi amaran."

Ikbal, Haiqal dan Sadiq terus memprotes. Saya mendiamkan diri. Saya tahu mereka tahu bahawa saya berasa amat geram.

"Selalu kata kesian ke pelajar. Perlu ke kesian ke pelajar yang tak hormat guru?"

Separuh terdiam, tetapi Ikbal terus memprotes.

Masa sudah habis. Saya ingin keluar dari kelas, tetapi guru seterusnya masih belum tiba. Sepuluh minit kemudian, dia muncul.

"Teacher, masa dah habis!" Hazim berkata. "Teacher keluarlah!"

Saya teramat marah. Saya keluar tanpa berkata apa-apa.

Sekembalinya ke bilik guru, mata saya masuk habuk. Berair. Mengalir. Oh tidak.

Tangan disusun di atas meja. Kepala diletakkan. Cermin mata dicabutkan.

Kelas seterusnya dalam setengah jam lagi. Saya tertidur.




Saya terjaga. Jam berdetik 1 petang. Saya mengeluh panjang. Saya terlewat 45 minit. Segera bangun dan membasuh muka.

Berlari ke kelas 2 Amanah.

Adik-adik bising. Mereka terdiam melihat saya.

Saya tidak akan meninggalkan solat Dhuha lagi.

p/s:

Petang itu...

"Atiqah demam ke hari ni?" Muallimah Sakina menyapa.

"Hmm?"

"Nampak penat. Atiqah tidur tadi, selalunya tak pernah." Muallimah Amanina menambah.

"Oh." Saya tersenyum. Kembali ke tempat saya.

Amidst The Silver Grain

Arabic paper scene from Second Monthly Assessment.

"What does this question ask of?"

"Well, you colour the picture based on the colour stated."

"The whole column, or just the items?"

"Items."

"Okay."

Turned to walk towards other students.

"Thank you."

Blinked. "Hmm?" Did a double take. "Oh. You're welcome."

Believe it or not, out of the whole 28 students, he was the only one thanking me for enlightening him of the Arabic questions.

It was verbalized softly, but my ears are prickling sensitive to gratitude.

And people wondered why I always blog on him.

The Shoes Stomper

During recess, I parked my shoes on the floor, whereas students were to arrange theirs on the provided shelves.

He stationed himself by my shoes. Mischievous mode.

"Don't even think of it."

He laughed. He lifted his right leg and hovered on my shoes. Mind you, they were genuine Alain Delon!

"Raimi, don't! I've just shone them yesterday!"

He laughed. Students came and he was distracted. ["Shoes on rack, please."]

I walked towards the counter and paid 50 sen for my glass of grape drink.

He eyed me. Grinned.

I walked and stood next to him. Eyes on my shoes. No dirt on them, so far.

I squinted my eyes and frowned. "Go stomp on others shoes."

"I want to stomp on yours, teacher."

I sighed. Squatted and sipped my drinks.

He grinned. Sat on the divider between the canteen floor and the dirty ground. My shoes were vulnerably between his legs.

"Raimi!"

He laughed. I sighed and smiled.

I walked towards the teacher's stool and sat there. He walked inside for his seat in the canteen.

Passed me. He grinned.

I shook my head.

"What is it, Atiqah?" The muallimah eating in front of me saw our exchange.

"Just some kid threatening my shoes."

Finishing my drinks, I stood up and went for my shoes.

Argh! Dirt marks over the surface!

I turned around and glared at him eating. He grinned and chuckled.

I took a deep breath and smirked. Walked towards the KUM and bought some tissues. I popped the packet and proceeded to meticulously rub the dirt of my black leather shoes.

Ikbal came. "Raimi said he's sorry."

"It's always Raimi said." I laughed. "Can't he say it himself?"

Raimi on The Dot

On Tuesday, I demanded he hand over his book. He did so, through the window, and dash off for the waiting car.

I immediately checked his book and had to shake my head laughingly. I scribbled on his book with a pencil.

Why are you sending this in without finishing it?

The boy was present today and he handed me his book before I glower him any further. He grinned and prompted me, "Teacher, I haven't finish yet."

"Yeah, right." I marked my way through his book. Nicely done.

I noticed he hadn't erase the scribbles I made earlier. I grabbed the nearest eraser. "Borrowing this for a while." I called out and hastily yet carefully rub out the notes as to not torn the book.

I paused midway of erasing. Underneath my scruffily written scrawls was this one word I've never written on his book before.

Sorry.

I grinned and resumed my doing.

Two metres apart, the watching young boy remained smiling.

Vintage BDU

I drive a vintage red Proton Aeroback, preloved from mom to Along to me. It has been around since I can remember; since 1996 if I'm not senile yet.

I never really name it, though some lovable brats at school call it Budu.

Hazim once told me, "Teacher, Raimi kata kereta teacher buruk."

I chuckled and saw that Raimi was merely two metres apart. Kids, we're not playing broken telephone here!

Yes, the colour is dull out of age and dad once told me, if I get it waxed, the colour will shine and it'll be a beautiful as can be. Problem is, I can't find it in my tight schedule to squeeze in waxing car.

Okay, I admit. I am excruciatingly idle.

This week alone, I've crashed the poor old car twice. On Sunday and on Wednesday. The first was when I had to pick up an urgent call while driving. Yes, it was rather unwise to do so. I hit a lamppost and I was alone in the car.

No harm done, except for some hideous scratch on the left side of the bumper.

I laughed myself silly. I told parents of it. Dad shook his head whilst mom gave me the eye.

The second was when I had to pick up Hazim at 5. With my bloodshot eyes I went and fetch him and managed to hit the raised sidewalk near the junction in front of Billion.

Same spot on the bumper. Imagine that.

We survived the rather humiliating incident. I can never trust myself with things that can go fast.

It's quite tedious to have a car to care. It has been two weeks since I gave it its bath and if I do not do it today, it'll have to wait till next week.

How could boys be crazy of cars? They're troublesome!

Budu may be old, creaky perhaps, but it's my Budu. I shall cherish it until I save my late grandpa's Ford Escort from the forgotten garage of carnage.

Now that's antique.

Snips and Snaps

Raimi was disastrous on 22nd morning. Believe me, that lucky boy chatted with Sadiq and Haiqal right under my nose!

After I gave the class assignment, I took Raimi's seat and demanded he sat on my left [Ikbal's seat] so I could ask what's the matter with his mischievousness today. He refused goofily.

"I can't sit next to a girl."

I sighed. Do I need to remind him that he voluntarily stood next to me when he came by the teacher's lounge?

No, let him be.

"Fine. Sit on Haiqal's seat, then."

He obliged, but he refused to listen.

Man.

-----

I wrote the sentence Encik Raimi terlantar di hospital on Tuesday afternoon, 22nd April.

On 23rd, Raimi was absent.

On 24th, Suhana [his neighbour] gave his MC letter to the homeroom teacher.

Creepy.

Now that I think of it, he's always absent the day after I called him of his misbehaves.

Creepy.

-----

Hazim deleted pictures in my camera on 22nd April.

I was seriously furious at his dishonesty.

On 23rd, I demanded an apology.

He asked of his friend to send me his.

Come on.

That evening, he came up to me, smiled and apologized.

"Will you do it again?"

"Wait and see."

"Hazim!"

He laughed.

Kids. Their humour is incurable.

-----

On 22nd, Hazim wanted me to treat him to ice cream.

"Sorry, I can't."

"Why?"

"I can't treat you alone. If the others find out, they'll be jealous."

"Well, just me alone, then. And Solihin."

"Look behind you. There're all sorts of people."

"Okay. Just me, Solihin and Marwan."

Raimi was looking from a meter apart. I sighed and resumed my walking towards Mok Dah's room.

"Teacher! This evening, okay?"

"Maybe another day, Hazim."

-----

On 22nd, I chatted with Ikbal by the canteen. Haziq [his 8-y-o brother] came from behind and hugged his neck.

I lit up. Took out my camera.

"Adik, run!"

"Ikbal, why are you shooing Haziq? I wanna take pictures of you both!"

"No! Butok, go play somewhere else!"

"Haziq, come here! Hug Ikbal's neck like you just did."

Haziq ran off towards the shoes rack and left me with a grin. Ikbal laughed manignly.

For the record, he refuse any attempt of taking pictures with his younger brother. Because Haziq is about an inch taller than him.

Laugh, people. Laugh.

-----

On 21st, Raimi was the imam for the Tahap 1 Zohor prayer.

On 22nd, it was Ikbal.

"Teacher, I was the imam during the prayer!"

"Yes, Ikbal. I heard you reciting. It was great."

He laughed.

Kids. Them and their fetish for praises.

Last of eViL Regime

The last period for today with 3 Sabar saw me teaching them a quick grammar on ayat penyata. I gave them three examples which I gained by asking for tidbits from the students.

"Ikbal, ada abang?"

"Ada."

"Nama dia apa?"

"Nape teacher nak tahu?"

"Teacher nak buat ayat."

"Haikal."

"Dah ada Haikal dalam kelas kita."

"Ikram. Nama dia Ikram Haikal."

"Okay."

I wrote on the whiteboard Ikram pemuda yang and I halted for ideas.

"Ikram pemuda yang apa, Ikbal?"

"Ikram pemuda yang pelik."

"Ada ke patut cakap macam tu tentang abang sendiri?" I tched.

"Aha! Ikram pemuda yang kacak macam adik dia!"

I laughed and finished the sentence with the word kacak. I stood back and savoured the masterpiece we've made. Okay, now for the second sentence.

I wrote Encik as the kids came and inquired, "Teacher, teacher, nak kene salin ke?" and the likes.

Ikbal piped. "Encik Ramli-"

And I wrote Ramli afterwards.

"Aha! Hebat kita, boleh teka apa teacher nak tulis!"

I grinned and decided against telling him the reality.

Fifteen minutes to the end of class and I finally got the kids to sit and write down the grammar notes. Raimi kept prancing up and down the front.

"Encik Rai... Oh, teacher tulis Ramli. Nasib baik bukan nama kita."

"Hmm?" I glanced at my writing and smirked at the second sentence of Encik Ramli terlantar di hospital. "Nak teacher tukar?" I wiped out the ml and readied my marker to change it as I gazed at him through the corner of my eyes.

His grinning figure jumped up in protest. "Jangan, teacher!"

I proceeded to ignore the objection. Now it reads Encik Raimi terlantar di hospital. I smirked victoriously.

Raimi came up and wiped his name out. I dutifully wrote it back.

He wiped.

I wrote.

He wiped.

I wrote and laughed.

He shook his head in defeat.

"Ikram pemuda yang kacak." I caught him reading softly.

"Raimi pemuda yang kacak." He reread and trailed off.

"Raimi pemuda yang kacak?" I smirked. "Nak teacher tukar?"

"Tak, tak." He grinned and walked back to his seat.

His objection was rather half-heartedly, but it's not nice to let kid's ego pummel upwards to the sky.

Ikbal and Atiq were taunting Musfirah at the back. I shooed the two boys back to their seats, consoled Musfirah and walked back in front.

In a matter of one minute, Khairuna called out. "Teacher, Musfirah nangis!"

I sighed and stared at the girl, head in her arms. Ikbal was standing in front, so I pushed him to squat along on the floor with me.

Raimi followed.

"Ikbal, Ikbal tu pengawas. Sepatutnya perangai baik sikit dari pelajar lain."

"Kita baik dah ni!"

"Nak nakal boleh, tapi jangan la usik budak perempuan. Sekarang dia dah nangis. Siapa yang nak pujuk dia? Ikbal atau Atiq?"

"Teacher la." Raimi piped out. "Teacher kan ibu. Ibu palsu dalam kelas."

I chuckled and stood up. I glanced at Musfirah and smiled kindly. She looked okay, fine, so I continued with the lesson.

Raimi was back on his seat, writing away. Suddenly he stood up and walked in front.

"Teacher, mana titik teacher?"

"Hmm?" I glanced at all the writings. No naughties wiped out any of my fullstops, so what's the problem?

"Tu, dekat Ikram tu tak de titik."

"Huruf i besar mana ada titik, Raimi."

"Ada benda atas dia tu."

"Benda ni?" I took the nearest marker [a red] and added two strokes of line.

"Ha! Baru betul!"

"Budak ni kan, cerewet betul."

He laughed.

Ikbal, who had just finished writing his notes and was up and about pranking on others, piped out. "Teacher, kenapa ada merah atas biru?"

"Cerewet sungguh!" I said to him. Ikbal laughed away.

Class ended.

As the kids scuttled by, passing me seeing them off, they held out their hands in salam. Ikbal held out his and he grabbed mine in an awkward authentic way of creative salam-ing. "Gini teacher, cara nak salam."

I shook my head at his antic. Raimi eyed him weirdly.

Baihaqi of 3 Amanah suddenly emerged. "Teacher! Penyapu kelas kita patah!"

"Hah?" Hands akimbo. "Patah? Baru semalam teacher beli! Macam mana boleh patah?"

"Entah la." He smiled sheepishly.

"Cari siapa yang buat. Sekarang jugak."

"Tak tahu sape."

"Tak kira. Cari sampai dapat."

And he left with the broken broom in tow.

Raimi, who was watching the whole scene, left me with these words of child wisdom. "Teacher, kenapa teacher garang? Garang macam singa."

Cat got my tongue.

Alright. I was hard on them these last two days. I'll be more patient starting tomorrow.

No more eViL gEniUs.

War of the Heart

I entered 3 Sabar, armed with the stuffs I planned to teach today.

Hazim, Ikbal and Atiq were out carrying books for Muallimah Sakina. Seeing the absent of class monitor, I told Khairuna to have the class to stand up before I greet my salam.

None came. The class was akin to a sardine-packed fish market. I glared the whole class and spotted the remaining prefects, Raimi and Anis, both chatting their way to Broadway.

Grim. No respect for teacher, now, have we?

"Raimi," I addressed the constantly grinning prefect. "Please ask the class to stand up."

He gestured a wait sign at me, as he listened to Sadiq's chatters. I was furious.

The more furious I am, the quieter I become.

"Raimi." My tone was low.

He glanced at me, but still his ears all over Sadiq.

"Raimi." Dangerously low.

Still repeated the same reply. I noisily pulled out the teacher's chair and crossed my leg at the front of the class. "Let me know when everyone will shut up and stand straight."

Hands crossed. Finally Raimi stared at me with a distant look etched upon his face.

The door opened and Hazim, Ikbal and Atiq came in. Hazim took his seat and I immediately stood up. "Hazim, please ask the class to quiet down and stand straight."

He turned around and did so. Half obliged. "Hussain and Majdi still aren't doing so, Hazim."

Hazim looked helpless. It was the last straw.

"What is it with you guys?!" I barked with my kawad voice. "Khairuna told you guys to shut up, but you guys didn't! The class monitor wasn't in, that's why I asked of her and the prefect! Even better, you guys ignored Hazim's order! Why elect him as the monitor if you guys won't listen?!"

"Teacher, I wasn't in!" Ikbal called out defensively.

"I know you weren't." I restrained the urge to shot daggers at sheepish Raimi.

"So it was Raimi." Ikbal piped out. I ignored his comment and proceeded to greet my salam in spite of the remaining chatters.

I let them sat and Raja turned towards me. "Teacher, Raimi said you were nearly blowing up."

I glanced at Raimi. He looked guilty.

I dismissed the act and started the class with only 1/5 of enthusiasm left.

Later...

"All stand up and quiet down, or I won't step in the class."

The class of 3 Amanah scuttled towards their seats and obliged. I glanced around seriously.

"Assalamualaikum warahmatullahi wabarokatuh."

"Waalaikumussalam warahmatullahi wabarokatuh."

"Before any of you sit down, straighten up your shirts, shoes and kopiah."

They did as they were told, albeit with some buzzing at the back.

"Irfan!" I frowned. "Did I tell you to walk around and chat?"

He grinned sheepishly and stood back at his seat. I turned around and saw a somewhat startled Zharfan with the duster on his hand.

"I want to clean up the whiteboard."

"Thanks, but let me do it." I softened my gaze and lowered my voice. "Go back to your seat, Zharfan."

I walked commandingly towards Aidil and Harith as they inserted their shirts into their pants. "Teacher, do you like 3 Sabar better than us?"

"Hmm?" I blinked. I never saw that one coming. "What makes you say so, Aidil?"

"You always treat them to ice cream." Mursyid said.

"When is that?" I was wary. The most recent was during recess. My God, they saw that one?

"Last week or so. At the library." Aidil replied.

"Well, we had a quiz during that time, that's why the treat was on me." I sighed inwardly and expressed a genuine smile. "If you like, we could have a quiz this week."

"Sure!" The whole class chirruped.

"It's a deal. Now sit down, everyone."

3 Amanah really made me think. I am their homeroom teacher, I should be favouring them instead of the wild bunch of Sabar, right?

All this time, I almost always let the guys of 3 Sabar off my hook. Laughing instead of frowning. Only today was an exemption.

I am stricter with 3 Amanah and 2 Amanah than I am in 3 Sabar. Teachers never favour students. It's unethical.

Raimi and Ikbal are prefects. I was since nine, so instinctly, I have high regards for leaders.

3 Sabar are a bunch of brilliant kids. Each has tongues enough for ten sets of teeth.

3 Amanah are a bunch of determined kids. I can see in their eyes they really wanted to learn. They're just weren't motivated enough.

And I am strict to motivate them. Believe me, I just want them to be better disciplined. Be strict and they shall learn. Lavish them with projectile praises. Correct their mistakes and never to deter they spirits.

Remind them with well-placed smiles that mistakes happen, just be sure to learn from them.

Don't rush in your writing. We have time to raise our bar.

Nak seribu daya, tak nak seribu dalih.

I suppose, inwardly, 3 Amanah is closer to the heart.

Raw Diamonds

Today's Program Kepimpinan Pelajar and Program Motivasi Jati Diri went smooth with countable glitches and I am happy.

And also exhausted. I had my two-hour kip after an hour of House.

The invited speaker [Kak Fatimah] addressing the crowds of Program Kepimpinan Pelajar.

Adam, Hazim, Syamil and Marwan posing with their group's presentation on characteristic of a leader.

Crowds of Program Kepimpinan Pelajar and Program Motivasi Jati Diri.

The banat participants from both programs.

Papa told us this enticing story. Nenek told Pak Long, "Hanif, Atiqah dah dapat dah belajar luar negara."

Pak Long was taken by surprise. He called papa for confirmation, to which papa said, "Mak dah dapat firasat la tu."

Old people are gems. Some of them, like my nenek here, are diamonds.

Yesterday [or more like, early this morning], I called Zainab and we chatted for over an hour and a half. Mama kept giving me the eye.

Her sister-in-law is 6 weeks pregnant. I'm elated for her and shall start picking out names for the new one.

Barnacle has been sms-ing with her and officially ceased all contact with the rest of us sensible ones after Zainab told her what she had been keen on listening.

The inevitable truth.

I remembered a quote on that. Bear of .hack//sign said, "If you want to know the truth, you must have the courage to accept it."

Truthfully, I don't know what to do with Barnacle. Let her be? But she's my friend.

Hmm.

No, I'm sorry. She's not a friend. She's just a classmate.

I wish her, and all, the best.

p/s:

Atiqah: Ilham, why can't you be better behaved? Aren't you ashamed at our other little brothers? *gestures at Marwan*

Ilham: Ashamed? *glances at grinning Marwan* Am I? No I'm not.

Atiqah: *sighs* Marwan, are you proud of our Ilham here?

Marwan: Nope.

Atiqah: *laughs* In your face, Ilham!

*Names changed to protect privacy.

Pricking Raimi

Raimi pricked his blisters. With his pencil. He showed it to me with an eyeful of grin this morning.

I sighed. "Mari sini, teacher nak tengok."

He gestured open his left hand.

"Tangan kanan."

He smirked. Held out his right hand in mid-air. As I inspect the unsightful pencil mark on his blisters while holding his hand in position using my marker, the young boy dropped his hand playfully.

"Raimi, elok-elok la."

He chuckled. Held out his right hand in mid-air. Dropped it.

Again.

And again.

And would have repeated the playful antic had I not grab hold of his wrist and started to lecture the boy on skin hygiene.

"Teacher lepas la tangan kita dulu."

"Tak nak." I shook my head. "Teacher lepas nanti, mesti Raimi lari."

"Kita tak lari."

I wasn't convinced. Hussain came and prodded Raimi's blisters with his pencil.

"Hussain!" I stopped the cunning boy.

"Tengok, teacher." Raimi gestured at Hussain by pouting. "Bukan kita yang cucuk."

"Mungkin bukan, tapi Encik Raimi jugak yang bagi."

He grinned.

"Sakit ke benda tu?" Iman asked out of curiosity.

"Tak." We answered in unison.

"Jangan usik blister tu. Nanti dia sembuh sendiri."

I let his wrist go and proposed, "Kalau nak cucuk jugak, pergi bilik sakit waktu rehat nanti. Minta muallimah dekat sana cucukkan."

"Teacher cucuk sekarang la."

"Nanti la." I smiled at the eager boy. "Raimi pergi bilik sakit waktu rehat, ye."
An hour and half after recess...
I walked from the library towards 3 Sabar. Raimi greeted me by the doorstep.
I greeted my salam; knocked. Waited for acknowledgement from the residing teacher.

She was too busy with chatty Ikbal, so I let myself in. Walked towards the nearest table and placed 3 Sabar's marked BM Exercise Book on it.

I turned towards the door for my leave but was halted by Raimi and Haiqal, both on the floor, tackling each other.

"Raimi, Haiqal, ape ni?" I pushed the two boys apart. "Balik tempat. Raimi, mana tie?"

The goofy boy smirked at me and said, "Teacher, nak cucuk sekarang."

"Nanti la." I waved a short salute. "Teacher ada kelas sekarang."

As I walked away from the hectic class, it made me wonder why I was so interested in such insignificant blisters.

Must be the doctor instinct.

Biased Doctor

Do you think I've been biased?

Because I think so.

Today, I didn't address Raimi one bit in class. Just a short exchange of "You're done?" which was replied with an equally short "Not yet."

The rest of my attention was equally divided among the others, except for a private talk with Ikbal and Hazim.

But I suppose it can't be helped. Just before I announce my departure from class, Raimi looked up with his usual smile, a mechanical pencil in his left hand and gestured open his right.

"Teacher, can I prick this?"

I saw two tiny blisters. "No! Let me see that!"

He gleefully ran off. "Raimi, let me see that!"

He continued running. "I just wanna help!"

He ran. He grinned.

I ceased. I glared.

"Okay. Suits yourself."

He stopped. Flashed a grin and readied his mecha pencil for entry. I shot straight to him.

"Pencils are not sterile. Hands out, Raimi."

The boy obliged. I kicked into serious mode and scanned the blisters between his ring and middle finger. The rest of the class gathered around.

"No, don't prick it. Could cause infection, especially if you use filthy appliance."

He held out his pencil. I glared at him. "Are you listening?"

He chuckled. "Lucky you held there."

Huh? I let go of his cuffed wrist. When did I? Never mind.

"I mean it. If you still keen on pricking, use a sterilized pin."

"Okay." Eyes glistened mischievously and mecha pencil still in possession.

I sighed and smiled them adieu.

An hour afterwards, I scuffled back from 2 Amanah towards the office building. Exhausted by the younger and a heller bunch of boisterous kids. Slowly climbed the stairs towards the teacher's lounge.

Looked up from sighing and saw Hussain leaning on the door towards my desk. "Eh? What's up, Hussain?"

"Oh, teacher."

I asked him of the pencil he borrowed from me during class. He chuckled it off. I expressed my wish to skin him.

We laughed by the doorway.

I turned to my left and saw the smiling prefect arranging books on my desk. "You're here, too?"

"Your desk, teacher?" His voice was low.

"Yea." I lowered my voice, too. Glanced around and saw the room deserted except for us. What's with the whispering?

I thanked them for bringing in the class's books and they took their leave. I sat comfortably in my usual idle pose and started reading the books.

Chuckled softly.

Evening saw the teacher on pursuit. Someone walked behind me and poked my waist. I turned around in shock. Which banat was that?

It was Ilham of 4 Ikhlas. He jogged off, goofily reminding me of my not wearing pants today.

I walked quickly, seriously reminding him of my wearing pants today.

He scurried for his life. Naim came up and said, "Poor Ilham."

I death-glared the smiling figure of his.

Evil Iqbal of 4 Amanah called me 'teacher pendek' in front of the public. I gave chase.

Cornered him and warned him against repeating the offense in future. He grinned despite expressing pardons.

I just had to pull that ear off.

Tomorrow, I shall start the regime of fight against disrespect and highlighting the boundaries between banin and banat.

p/s: Yesterday, I conversed with Muallimah Rushaida.

"Ikbal of 3 Sabar really is a blender without a top on, but Raimi is a shy boy."

"Shy?" I widen my eyes and chuckled. "Not the tiniest bit in my class."

p/s 2: Teaching sure is hectic. Why haven't I quited yet? Oh, yes. Because that place is a heaven for cheesy smiles.

Naim indulging ABC after pursuing villains in a game of Cops. Kids, grow up.

... Kini Makin Gelap

3 Sabar got a new pupil today. Iman, a boy. Cocky looking and sure expressed his cockiness when talking to me.

I sniffed trouble.

We were writing that essay on 'Guru Kesayangan Saya' today. Raimi wouldn't stay put as I dwell on the topic so I had to take my leave before I wasted any more time.

He and Ikbal excused themselves for recess duty. I let them and the rest of the class off except for Raja since he was absent last week. We discussed the topic immensely.

Soon Raimi joined us. I didn't know why he came back to class, but I wouldn't let him off unless he sit down and listen.

Which he did. For a while.

The problem with me is that, I almost always jumble up English and Malay. Even for a bit. And Raimi was mimicking. Annoying that boy was. I wish I strangled him.

To stop his bugging, I finally taught karangan Bahasa Melayu to those two boys in English.

Imagine that.

I left the class deserted except for one newcomer Ikbal. Headed towards the canteen for a brunch of syrup drink and a slice of egg sandwiches.

My first meal that day. All this teaching had the same toll of a full-day Komander course I endured in 2005.

I headed towards 2 Amanah. Spotted Raimi and Ikbal hurdling the kids back into their classes after recess. That's what they were supposed to do.

Ikbal was running away from being pursued by some kid taller than him.

Raimi was sauntering towards me, armed with his contagious smiles and lashy words. "Teacher bucuk."

Man.

A one-period with 2 Amanah and we had a quick quiz and a simple guidance on how to properly answer a question. Like, if you were asked "Apakah nama awak?", you're supposed to reply "Nama saya Atiqah." instead of the one word answers kids constantly use.

And the quiz. Well, I felt like treating them to ice cream, that's why we had one.

An hour later, Bahasa Melayu with 3 Amanah. The class wrenched my heart and smashed the fragile organ to pieces. Adding agony to pain, they had it cremated and spread across the cloudy Sungai Kelantan.

Why must they say they understand when in reality they didn't? I'm there to help, not to punish them if they spit out the slimy truth.

I just want to help.

I think I've pushed them too hard. And it nearly broke the dam.

I consoled myself afterwards by strolling around the school and buying a grape drink from Pak Mud's stall. There I met a student I've never before, grinning and clearly trying to strike a conversation.

"Teacher, you're short."

"What?" I nearly lashed out in fury. The hell was he talking? I glanced furtively at Pak Mud's grandkid [my own presuming] who was managing the stall. He feigned deaf.

"Some kid said so."

"The name?"

"Same as mine."

"And yours is?"

"Can't tell."

"Which class?"

"3 Sabar."

"A prefect called Ikbal?"

"Yeah."

I heaved a tired sigh and left the scene.

What's with all the slandering in front of strangers? What happened to the good old image of the prefects of Aman?

Beyond tired. I'm too mature for all these craps.

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."

Monitoring SRI Sports Day 08

I've blab much about them. Let see what they look like.

Irfan of 3 Ihsan, class monitor Baihaqi and Azim of 3 Amanah and Atiq of 3 Sabar.

Prefect Ikbal and Atiq of 3 Sabar.

Prefect Raimi and class monitor Hazim of 3 Sabar.

Class monitor Marwan and Akwa [Sufi's fellow villager] of 3 Ihsan.

Zarif and Harith of 3 Amanah.

Naim of 4 Ikhlas and Ikmal of 4 I'm not sure.