Words that keep me going

During my practicum, there was a saying that keeps me going, especially on Mondays, when it was impossible to beat the Monday blues, or else I would end up giving students a tedious work, just because yours truly was not in the mood to teach. I am just a normal human being, I am not always in the mood. Get what I mean? Geddit? So here is the ‘mantra’

If a doctor makes a mistakes, he kills one patient,

If a bus driver makes a mistakes, he kills 30 passengers,

If a pilot makes a mistakes, he kills 300 passengers,

But if a teacher makes a mistake, he kills the future generation.

I learned this saying when there was a short course for English teachers held in my school, so I am not sure how to cite this, but it is just for sharing my naughty thoughts.

Then how in the world I would kill the future generation kan? So this was really working to get myself going. But then, what if a teacher is killed?

Say, I was killed in an accident, the heading in the newspaper should be

A teacher is killed in an accident, so is the future generation

A teacher is killed in an accident, so is the future generation

Heh. I wish.

So what say you?

Let’s run in my shoes.

Hello dreamers!

 I say hi to the dreamers because I have noticed regular visitors to my blog.. and I assume that you guys have read my latest post and I pray that you are at least considering a way to realizing you dreams. 

To those regular visitors.. you make me nervous, because what I wrote revolves around myself and for my own documentation, so when I have people who read what I wrote, somehow it pressures me to write on a better topic. Hehe. 

I appreciate that you read my ramblings, and please pray for my istiqamah (consistency) in writing. 

I forgot to relate to you in my latest post, so if you feel like you are doing nothing to make a difference ( trust me, I have been there – the land of frustration), know that the greatest difference you can make is within yourself. 

I have been struggling to find something that is meaningful to do, yet there is a limitation then I figured out that I cannot be frustrated with the people around me, with the system, with everything (these things used to depress me – STRANGE kan?) 

“You wander from room to room 
Hunting for the diamond necklace 
That is already around your neck!” 
― Rumi

YES. I am such a big dreamer. I used to be like this, until recently, I learned that I don’t have to make a difference on everyone’s lives but to change my perception that everyone created by the almighty has his own purpose in this world. So it eased me in a way that I could finally take a break from thinking too much.

Sometimes the enemy is within yourself. Know that everyone wants you to be happy. Yes. Everyone, because if you show your pain, no one likes it. Get what I mean? Get it? Geddit? No? Okay. Mission unaccomplished. 

Confession Time

I suddenly had the urge to write,  just because it has been so long since I last spilled my thoughts on this site. The reason – I just renewed my password, another is I was seeking after truth about myself. STRANGE. I should not have any problem figuring out who I am, because I am old enough. Okay. I need not to ramble more on my absenteeism on this blog.

I was inspired to write today after I answered a questionnaire, for a dear friend, and I was in dilemma to answer a question.

“Why did you choose this program?” – For those who do not know, I am a final semester student of TESL and the question asks me why did I choose to study in this program.

I was torn to answer between – a. I wanted to teach, b. I was forced by my parents.

Because honesty is my policy, I chose the answer b. Yes I was kinda forced, I think the most suitable word would be, my dad suggested me this program. So when your parents suggested something, they know what’s best for you, and since pleasing my parents  is my policy (haha!) I chose this program.

… And I am proud that I survived four and a half years learning to be a teacher, not to mention 4 months of teaching experience in a school.

To answer that I am forced by my parents does not do justice to them as I did not feel forced, instead I enjoyed this course, and I surprised myself too. Let’s walk down my memory lane for couple of minutes.

When I was in primary school, I was the kind of student who no one would notice except for some of my close friends, and librarians. I was a librarian too. I did not like to attend classes, so I did ponteng some. Where did I go then? I would hide in a corner in a library, burying my nose in those autobiographies of world greatest inventors and scientists, I learned what is a nobel prize before my friends know what it is actually, I dig into the meaning of sweat, tears and blood of those people. I really adored people who made a difference to the world.

Since I really look up to those people, and since I read too much stuff on inventions, I was in love with science subject and I used to read the revision book cover to cover. A bookstore was my heaven at that time. I was only 10 and I studied hard than when I was 17. I didn’t study to score A, but I was passionate about discovering things.

So I had this inner drive that I want to make a difference someday.

Years passed and life must go on, I am still passionate to learn, yet I kinda let go of my childhood dream. I thought that I have no chance of realizing my dream. I mean, come on la, be rational…

I am not that creative, I am not genius, I don’t know a thing to invent something. I am no Steve Jobs baby.

So what do I have to do to realize my dreams then? I found an answer during my practicum. Little did I expect that by being a teacher makes a lot of differences to my students. I don’t want to elaborate on what kind of differences I made, but I have felt and noticed it. I am touched, because not only that I feel I made a difference in their lives, but I learned something greater from them.

That it is not too late to realize my dream.

So in order to do justice to my parents, I should actually answer the question as – b. I was forced by my parents, and p.s. I am in love with teaching profession.

A mess in my head

Truth is, I miss you. I really do, but I have to do what I need to. I just wanna run away from my past. I hate living life with turned-down expectations, so I expect nothing, to an extent that I do not want anything from you, anymore. I guess I have reached my limit. I do not cry anymore even I think I have to, the worst part is that, I stopped hoping, wishing things could get better between us. You don’t have to apologize cause I am at fault too. I choose to commit to myself.

Being thankful is easier said than done.

Before my leaving for Bandung, we learned that our accommodation would be arranged by school so the university did not know what would it be like. As my mom did not know what to expect, she expected the worst and freaked out that she suggested “Abah will be going with you and helping you to find accommodation”. I refused to let him tagging along, as I did not want to appear as anak manja so I replied, “I will be fine, no worries. Besides, the ticket price will be expensive for a last minute booking” then my mom intercepted “It’s okay, we can still find money, but YOU, my daughter could not be bought with money. I am worried for your safety”. Mommy you’re so sweet that I felt like weeping.

That was a conversation between my mother and I, a week before I left for Bandung, upon learning that I would be stationed in Bandung alone. My father, on the other hand, had a faith that I would be just fine as he has a lot of friends in Bandung and the fact that majority of the population are Muslims, he did not worry so much for my living and training to be a teacher here. These two important people in my life are the reason for my being here, and I thanked them for giving their permission for me to pursue my dream. I was one of the luckiest 25 students who had been selected for this programme and I came here with a purpose – to inspire students to be better in English, as well as in their lives.

Thinking of my safety I just agreed to my mom’s suggestion, but the plan changed as my third sister was offered an Asasi programme so she needed my dad much more than I did. (That’s a kak long’s sacrifice, haha ;p) Besides, my dad was not that worried because my uncle was in Bandung for a football tournament. He is not Syafie Sali though. It was just a friendly match and Thank God he waited for me at the airport. My parents were also relieved learning that he was staying in a hotel which was not that far from my school.

A lot have I learned since the first day I was here. I did not have that teary-eyed moment in the airport before taking off because we were already late and we were running like some groups from the Amazing Race in order to catch our plane. Why did I mention this again? Erm it was just because I am proud of my strength not to burst into tears even though I felt like it.

I have already been to Bandung once, with my family for a holiday, but it was totally a different experience than having to stay here, and work. By work, I mean being a trainee teacher.

I still remember the first day I came here. It was like a nightmare having to pray in one of the malls. I do not want to elaborate on this because you would rather not imagine our experience, but it was still bearable because I was still with my friends. We could bear it because we had one another to curse and laugh to ease the uneasiness.

One thing which I dislike about this programme is that 25 of us were sent to different schools around West Java and as a result, I am all alone. I thought it was okay because I am such a big fan of being alone. I thought wrong actually because upon my meeting with my supervisor’s and the vice principal, the crashing news I learned that they did not prepare my accommodation as they thought  UiTM arranged it already. Another bad news was that hotels in Bandung were fully booked as it was a school break.

So I remember crying in the back seat of the  car as the vice principal, Pak Rudi was driving around Kota Bandung to find hotel for me. That was embarrassing but what to do, I was scared of being kidnapped or you-know-what since I was with two men I just met, and hardly knew.

Yet as time passed by, I turned out to cherish the moments with them. Many of the teachers treat me like their daughter and some of them even be my shoulder to cry on. The sweetest thing of all is my students. My relationship with them are not limited in the classroom only. We always hang out, went for lunches, karaoke and birthday party.

Even though I have a lot of friends here, being a loner means I always go almost everywhere alone. Some of the days, when I felt like discovering some new shopping places, or some gardens, I just went out and took the famous public transportation here – the angkotan kota. It is a mini van and it is cheaper than other means of public transportation. Besides, my mom will never allow me to take a cab if I were alone. Honestly, there were many times I was lost but the people here are friendly and helpful so I turned out alright even after a frightful day.

I am also thankful for having Mr. Wahyu as my supervisor as my work place is not limited in school but I was also given chance to expand my service to University Islam Nusantara (UNINUS) I joined their English community as well as English club for lecturers. Imagine being the youngest there and having the least experience than them and joining them for a discussion on how to be a well-trained lecturer. They asked for my opinion and I was so nervous, so I blurted out that I only had 3 weeks experience of being a teacher, so I admit I am not yet well-trained as everyday is my learning experience.

It turned out they like having me there and I was also surprised that I got paid for my contribution in the lecturers English club. It was just a volunteer work for me to expand my network, but it was GOOOOOOOOOD having been appreciated like that. I still do my volunteer work in English community and it was by far one of the most meaningful experience for me.

Yet, I am sad for learning that without money, some of the students cannot pursue their studies. This lesson also made me realize that I am lucky to have been born as a Malaysian because education in Malaysia did not require so much money. Except for me, maybe because I am a high-maintenance girl, according to my dad la, but I always made them proud, kan kan?

As my being here is coming to an end, I am glad that I will return to my parents as a wiser lady and a grateful daughter. Not to mention, way much stronger.

I am back from a hiatus.

It has been ages since I last wrote. I miss writing so much. I miss blogging but there were things that distracted me. Let me just list down things that distracted me from writing,

1. I was busy with my studies -it was a hell of a semester, in which I was scared to death I could not maintain my CGPA due to a lot of on-going assessments.
2. I was busy with my new life as a trainee teacher in Bandung, Indonesia that I do not want my students to read my writing, which probably would revolve around my sadness, waiting for a single International call, from Mister you-know-who. Haha. Pathetic, I know.

It has been 5 weeks since I have been stationed at SMA Pasundan 2, and my service as a teacher is coming to an end. I can’t wait to be with my family again, yet I am sad to leave my students and friends here

Saya Nak Cakap Sikit Aje!

Disclaimer : this is a situation exclusively for Malays to reflect on. I am not trying to be racist, but my post today is about my culture. Malay culture.

Have you ever heard your parents fighting and your mom said ” Abang, kita perlu berbincang”. This is a translation of what westerners are used to.  Hint : “Honey, we need to talk”. There is nothing wrong with that, except for in our culture, we are not used to this. Do you agree?

Instead, our moms will say ” Abang, saya nak cakap sikit boleh?” Then dia pun pot pet pot pet macam machine gun, and panjang pulak tu, walaupun pada mulanya  cakap nak cakap sikit je kan.

Inilah cantiknye budaya kita, sebab kita dia ajar untuk bercakap berkias. Kita juga diajar untuk ‘berkasar’ secara lembut. (Wah, an oxymoron!) Tak percaya? Cuba google tv program Oh Yeah, Sentap bersama Afdlin Shauki tu. Budaya sindir-menyindir adalah satu budaya Melayu yang mengajar kite untuk bercakap kasar secara lembut. Remember his rules? (Keluarkankan kata-kata manis, pandang ke atas, tangan di dada)

It makes you laugh and it is our culture. Budaya ada baik, ada buruknya. Baiknya budaya sindir menyindir ialah untuk menjaga hati dan air muka seseorang. Beralih pula kepada sisi buruk budaya ni – Some people won’t get this.

Orang Melayu cakap, tak paham. Okay? Saya sediakan beberapa situasi untuk anda hakimi ;

1. Ketika anda beratur di kafeteria kampus, sedang anda ingin cepat kerana perlu ke kelas. Tiba-tiba, seorang pelajar memotong barisan.
2. Ketika anda berdiskusi bersama kawan di kawasan sekitar fakulti di hari minggu. Beberapa orang lelaki, mungkin pelajar jarak jauh, duduk berhampiran dan merokok.

Apakah reaksi anda terhadap situasi-situasi ini?

Mahu tahu reaksi saya? Tak mahu? Ahh saya tak peduli, karena saya nak menyampaikan hujah saya ni. Sabar je la eh.

1. Reaksi saya dengan pelajar memotong barisan – menarik muka masam, menjeling sehabis baik bagi menunjukkan protes.
2. Reaksi saya dengan orang merokok di dalam fakulti, walaupun di hari minggu – mengipas-kipas muka saya (yang dah muncung sejengkal) tanda protes terhidu asap rokok, sambil berkata dalam hati “EH korang ni tak paham bahasa ke, tak suka la asap rokok ni”

Mahu tahu selanjutnya? Reaksi orang-orang yang mencetuskan kemarahan dalam hati saya ini?

1. Pelajar tersebut membayar makanan dan terus blah.
2. Golongan lelaki itu menghabiskan rokok mereka. Cis kau.

Cuba renungkan di mana salah saya. Anda tak pasti? Jika anda tak pasti, anda pun dua kali lima macam saya (yang dulu) Saya yang sekarang sudah sedar kesilapan saya dan akan memperbaiki kesalahan saya.

Macam lecturer saya cakap “Don’t just complain, give some solutions, or else, you are part of the problems”

Maka saya sudah jumpa jalan penyelesaian. Mahu tahu? Renungkan dahulu dan tunggu entri sambungan saya.

The Morning After

This semester has been the most hectic one so far. I had managed to pull through every semester, but this sixth semester – I just ‘go with the flow’. Seven subjects with six subject as ongoing assessment courses – no final exam which means we have a lot of assessment in just a short fourteen weeks. A wild ride indeed to survive. It is evident with the lack of post .

Of all the wild ride for this semester, nothing can beat the past three weeks.

For the past three weeks, my life was like a roller-coaster ride. At times I was euphoric with the sudden height, then it pulled me down so fast that I felt like my heart stopped pumping. It was the combination of both – having Mr. F in Malaysia for a short three weeks, and having to catch the due dates for assignments and micro-teaching.

I got to spend time with him the few days upon his arrival, and the last few days before his going back. Unlike the previous year, I did not fetch him at the airport because I had a test on that particular Saturday. On top of that, I did not present at the airport to bid him farewell as I had another test the following day. Sedih, yes. Sangat! But what to do, my priority is my study.

The last four days were also the ‘climax’ of my euphoric excitement. We went out  in the wee of Saturday morning - jalan-jalan , makan-makan. Then I had a test on the same Staurday morning at 10.30 to 12.30. Then my real ‘roller-coaster’ ride began as from that moment on I had to drive back and forth from Shah Alam to Kota Damansarac(his sister’s house where he stayed) to Setapak (my dad’s house where I stayed during weekends)  several times within a day!

Living in the fastest lane is the exact metaphor of my having to get here and there. Thanks to my beloved car for she had to bear the excessive braking as I literally driving in the fast lane for the couple of days. I just wish there is no ‘saman‘ ticket being issued. Fingers’ crossed.

Ohh yeah, I had merepek too long to actually come to my main idea the morning after. The morning after I went out with him will always be ear-to-ear smile. Unlike those morning afters, the morning after he left for Bangalore was the hardest one. I got up, only to find myself feeling like sobbing, but also to hold back my tears because I had to sit for a test and I need to get going. The morning after,  I got up, only to feel the ‘emptiest’ days ahead because there is no more text from him to ‘instruct’ me with his plan.

That morning after, I cling to my pillow so hard not to think of the days ahead.

My life has changed to its normal course now – plain doing assignments, going to classes and nothing to anticipate. I will get enough sleep, enough time for myself. But still, if I had a chance, I really opt for the busiest days as long as I still get to be with him. Alas, our duty are our studies, so let the studies come first before our love affair.

Rindu you, Mister .

I miss my dad ):

Last night, after class, my sister and I went out to have dinner, and thank God that the service was good. But that’s not what I wanted to discuss here. When the food was served, and my sister tasted it, she was like “Eh nasi goreng ni macam nasi goreng abah la”. I tasted it and it did indeed taste like my dad’s cooking. Yeah my dad is a good cook, since he has inherited the ‘tukang masak‘ gene from my grandmother, and I think I inherited it too (I hope so )

I just checked the Air Asia website to, you know, just do some ‘window shopping’, predicting when will I have time to go back, but nay, I don’t have that enough time to go back in the near future as I will be having classes on weekends.

I then browsed for a clip which my lecturer showed in our class, and it brought me to tears again as I could partly relate to it. I still remember when I was little, when my dad was taking a nap, I would always be super terrified if he suddenly stopped snoring. I would go close to his chest and tried to hear his breathing. Sometimes I would just woke him up and find some lame excuses. Or at times, if he was taking a nap on the bed, I would go “lompat-lompat” on the bed until he woke up.

I also remember when my parents went to perform their hajj, my sisters and I were having difficult time to sleep and we could sleep only until my grandmother gave us my dad’s t-shirt and my grandfather imitated the sound of my dad’s snoring and soon after, we fell asleep. This is something which my grandpa will always recall and tell us , how manja we were with my dad.

I also remember well enough the anxiety of a 5/6 years old girl when waiting for her dad. My father at that time was working as a lecturer and he would come back like other office workers, on 5 or 5.30 p.m. I would always be anxious waiting for him as I was terrified something might happen on his way home. There was time when I felt he came back too late. It was about 5.50 p.m. and I was waiting outside and went like “Abah, da lama along tunggu. Sangat lama. Pukul 5.59 baru abah sampai” with a sulky tone and that “5.59 p.m.” was my lamest attempt to exaggerate how late he was but to no avail as my dad ended up laughing at me with his reply “mane ade pukul 5.59..hahaha”

Up till now, I still wonder why on earth did I not just say “pukul enam”? Duh. Then when I learned his office number, I would dial up sharp on 5. I would always try to get him on the line, and it was always in vain as my dad rarely at his office. Which always gave me a hard time calculating where he was like “maybe abah pegi beli pisang goreng” so I calculated how much time he took from the stall to home etc. etc and if he was a tad late from usual time he came back, I would have some panic attacks. What a miserable child I was.