Wednesday, October 5, 2011

escape - teachers day...

What can I remember about my teachers? 

(close my eyes and deeply inhale drink some cold water – fuhhhhhh~)

Emm… nothing much.. just a glimpse of my not so wonderful story of my life.. penconteng = Fahsha Muhammad.. so sad and boring..

Lets start with Arwah tuk atan.. I remember kissing his hand every time I finish learning to recite Quran. How he used to wave his magic wand (bamboo cane) then smashed to the floor each time I misspelled or pronounced it wrong. Making a really loud sound.. Like a thunder. And every time I heard that sound, my reading is getting better (for a few moments until I got distracted again). What was I? 6 or 7 years old maybe.  I don’t quite remember.. Then I continued to learned from Wak.. Wak have a different way of teaching, he is funny and great at taking attention from kids. Now, arwah Tuk Atan is no longer in my neighborhood. I cried the day when my mom said “go and recite yaasin to atuk.. He is the one who teach you how.”  With nozzle sound (I’m trying not to cry), sit in front of his dead body I recite yaasiin the way he always wanted me to (slow and take your time). Even though by that time I am already a teenager, when I sat in front of his body I felt like I’m a kid back. So much I can learn from him but I only realized it after he cannot teach me. He is not my real grandfather, but for a kid who never seeing his real grandfather, he is my real atuk. He is always wanted me to be an Ustaz or something, but you know where I ended up. 

I don’t remember anything about teacher in my kindergarten, so let’s skip that part. 

Primary school.  I wouldn’t give name, but there is few teachers who thinks highly of me. They think I will be a scientist one day. Sorry to say, I’m letting you down dear teachers. But still, I can blow up a balloon using dried ice.  Haha . =) my dads sometimes say a teacher from primary school asking about me, when I asked my dad the teacher name. Man, I don’t know who she is. World work in strange way, I remember a few teachers name (I can bet they don’t remember me) but a teacher who remember me I don’t even know the existence of her in my life story.  Maybe she teaches at sekolah agama.

My world is getting weird. Form1 to form3.  my life at all boy school. Kick out of class (a lot times), skipping last period class (almost everyday), sleeping in class (you don’t want to know).  I remember a lot of teachers from this part of my life, the all seeing bad things in student type, the slap slap slap and slap type, the very dedicated teacher who never give up on their student type. One thing for sure, none of them remember me. Hey, I’m a very low profile type of person.  When the pmr result come out, all of my teachers shocked. They thought I will be failing few, sorry to say I’m letting you down. Then there is teachers who shock that I don’t get more A`s, yup.. I’m letting them down again. I keep letting teachers down. 

   I’m getting older, wiser and more rebellious.  All I can think is having fun. My first oral test for form4 is titled “I hate this school” . I remember that English teacher. I hope she remember me. The last time I saw her all I heard from his mouth is “amir!!! What happen to you?” seeing me with long hair and thin to the skin. That is few years back. Technical school. I can remember every single one who teaches me those years. Some of those teachers we call abah, mak , or just a datin.  Slap? Come on.  We are 17. I got knee onto my stomach from a teacher. And then, there is teachers who don’t know what to do with boys. If they don’t let the boys went to toilet to smoke, none of them will be awake in class. If they let the boys go to smoke and those boys got caught, they (teacher) will be in big trouble. 

I wouldn’t call lecturer a teacher, they more to guidance, self experience and mentor to me. Just like friends, peers, family and colleague. If I have to call a lecturer a teacher, then I will claim all the people who influence me in my life as my teacher.  Indeed, they are. 
Today is teachers day.. I never say this loudly, but I’m sorry I’m not turn out to be what you expected me to be dear teachers. I’m not ended up be an engineer, scientist or have a degree on engineering but now i'm a journalist at MalayMail.  And miss N, sorry to say I’m not interested to be an actor or a comedian or model. En. X, I’m not being a lecturer but I did help few of friends who needs idea for their thesis or solve a few problems that need a twisted mind like me to think. Pn.Z, I don’t write. But I do keep conteng-conteng at this neglected blog.  Puan.F, I ashamed to tell you this but I still suck when it come to ur paper. That 4 flat is just something I did because I took that paper 2 times.

Give me some time.. Just a few years.. yup.. im just a little writer now, but when im succeed in everything that I planned, that’s will be the right time to thanks you guys.. Not today.. For today all I can say is i`m sorry.

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