Well, coming back to chronicling my teaching experience. Something that I should have finished before I came to Cambridge. Well, time constraint made it a little bit impossible. Preparation ate a lot of my time, and procrastinating consume MOST of my time. Yeah, I am a goooooood procrastinator.
It came back to July 2009. After having a very bad "breakup" with certain bitch, I got a phone call that would change my life forever. It was from the Vice chairperson of my ex-study program. She asked me whether I would be available to teach in as a part-time lecturer. Whoa, whoa, NOT AVAILABLE? Get out of here, it was all I dreamed! I shouted spontaneously, "COUNT ME IN!!!!!"
To my surprise, she asked me to handle Interpreting classes. Yep, plural! I had two classes of interpreting. I was quite surprise, since it was a subject for final year student. Am I good enough to handle that, I thought in mind. But yea, without further ado I nodded (figuratively, of course. I was on a phone call anyway). And thus begun my journey as a part-time lecturer.
My first semester brought me into three different levels. I had interpreting class for final year students, writing class for second year students, and reading class for the fresher (Wait, fresher?? Gosh, this is UK talking. xixixixi)Again, I think my arrogance was really too much. Relying on the experience of teaching in History Department, I thought it would be the same. BIG MISTAKE, dude!
Interpreting class is really exhausting, both for the lecturer and the students. Difficult for students to progress, exhausting for the lecturer to prepare the material. Engaging students' participation needed extra effort, especially during a "sleepy hours". Yeah, Interpreting class at the moment when people got really tired and sleepy. Could not say that those were my greatest success. Once again, arrogance is certainly not a good start for teaching. But, I enjoyed it.
The Writing class was nice, but in some ways it was kinda limiting. I LOVE to talk, and by love, I mean A LOOT! And I love writing. Well, it was supposed to be okay, however lecturer did not talk a lot in writing class.*jawdropping* *speechless*
But I really enjoyed the reading class. Well, dealing with freshers is always nice. They were very cooperative and eager to learn. Not to mention their obedience. The discussion went well, and I enjoyed every moment of it. Have to admit, I looked forward to going into that class every week. Err, the first mid term test made that class down a little bit, but they soon changed their strategy to learn. To my surprise, they did improve. A LOT!
Second semester came, and I got more classes. This time, I had to teach two classes of Translation and two classes of Research Paper Writing for third year student as well as a writing class for second year students. And I should say that that was the most exhausting and challenging semester ever.
Teaching Translation was not as easy as flipping your hand. It was a skill. You cannot fully learn it, you have to acquire it. The best analogy of teaching translation i like teaching art. You have to feel it, and no theory could help you fully. So difficult that I almost lost my confidence in teaching. Killer, ambitious, killer, difficult, killer, serious, killer, killer, killer. Those were things written on my forehead for the students. Lots and lots protested for my grading system, but I insist on using my standard. Unlike the reading class in the previous semester, the classes were killing me.
Unique case happened in the Research Paper Writing classes. I enjoyed teaching in one class, we even had so much fun. I felt like having the best scientific discussion ever. But the other class ditched on me. This particular class, I never know why, also saw the writing on my forehead like the translation class did.
Thank God I had the writing class for second year. They were nice, talkative, cooperative, and sweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeet. Those people were funny, and the important thing was, they were the one keeping my sanity in place.
Well, I had my own up and down with that. No matter how long have you been teaching, there is always new thing to learn. And every class is different, so we really need to adjust ourselves without lowering the standard.
Showing posts with label personal. Show all posts
Showing posts with label personal. Show all posts
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Tuesday, September 07, 2010
Chronicle #7 : CEIC - The Intermediate Saga
Intermediate level has almost never been apart from my journey in Language Institute Sanata Dharma University. In fact, it is almost identical with me. During my previous chronicle, I wrote that I taught in two intermediate classes. Now, the rest of Intermediate classes are written here.
The third batch of Intermediate class consisted of some mad guys and girls. Some of them were from the previous Pre-Intermediate level. I still have Gina, Angel, Ogi, and Yaya. Only Emi wasn't there. Combined with several newcomers, the class became more colorful. Initially, the coordinator was afraid of my partiality towards the class members, since I grew closer to the previous students. But as the time progressed, the whole class develop into one soul.
And what did I do back then? To be honest, I am still questioning that myself. Was I teaching or was I just merely playing with them? This time, I started losing control over myself. They lighted up the flare triggering my “wild” state. Moreover, I got Uul, my ex-senior during the high-school day, whom I love to trick with her echolaria problem. There was also the duet, Andhi and Taufiq, the OLD (yes, I put the emphasis on the word OLD) but nice Ario, the lecturer. I also had DJ Win, whom you might not thought that he is one, since he was quite serious.
The class changed into a brotherhood and family for each of us. I still remembered how we gathered outside the class, had a “cooking class” during the weekend, and several hangouts. Well, actually we are still hanging out together until now. The inspirational thing came from them was what Ario said, “When I came into your class, I felt like having a relaxation from my office duty. That's why I couldn't wait coming to your class!”
But I cannot have them as my students forever, can I? The next batch came, and to my surprise, they were crazier. There were cousins, Yenny and
Wuri, the cool Andre,Fitri, who got the innocence face but in fact can act WILD! There were Rama, the ever-spirited boy, Laura, a childlike girl, Adit, the city planner, and the calm vet, Kristin. Donny the chipmunk, served as class clown, providing laughter and intermezo in a totally high dose. Luthfi the emo boy and Manov, the musician, who provided nice music during Friday Fun Fest. The class was also colored by the ever-ambitious Freandy and serious boy, Nanda Resa, who loved talking about politics and sometimes slow to diggest others' jokes. Gawd, I've just realized that this class is the largest in number among my other intermediate classes. Which probably is the LOUDEST class ever!!!!
After taking care of such a loud class, people would think that I needed a rest. Well, actually no, but somehow the next intermediate class was the smallest in number ever. I only had three students, Ipam, Dyke, and Dimas. Whew! What a challenge, since it was very hard to lift the class' mood and atmosphere. The worst case happened during the presentation, with only one student came LATE. Aaaargh, I felt like banging my head on the wall.
Thankfully, the next batch came with a flock of gooners and looners. There were two Intermediate classes, and I was in charge for both of them. In the first class, I only got 8 students, but they were more than enough for the level of loudness. Sure, there were Dewi and Yani, the cool and calm ones. But on the other hand, I got Satya, the mad scientist, Fryssa Yudha and Paska Aprilia, the deadly duet. Combined with the queen of one liner, Olive, the occassional looner, Vincent, and the posh girl, Weni, the result was C-H-A-O-S!! I didn't need to speak much, they wouldn't stop speaking. I remembered that once someone had to take me over for the class, and she sighed deeply, “What a class!!” Ahahahahaha, you rocked, guys!!
Well, the second class of that period was as fun as the first one, but with a slower tempo. Hangu, Uut, Burhan, Lia, and Tika. All were nice students, quite active and can go wild sometime. Just in a perfect dose (while the previous class suffered from over-dosage of madness). I also got a bunch of pharmacist. Amel and her boyfriend, Dita, and the eternal victim Ema. Nice class, especially useful for balancing my sanity. Hahahahaha!!
In the begining of 2010, I had also two classes of Intermediate level. To be honest, the first class did not leave a strong impression, except for one student, Mr. D. He was the only student who literally made me want to commit homicide in class. Most of the students were standard, not really crazy. Most of the time, I was stunned with all the corny and awkward jokes.
But as the balancing law stated, I got a LOUD class at the second shift. Gee, this class even reminded me of my third period. We were once again united as a family, even managed to secure a name for the class, Syphillis class. Aww, ain't that sweet? (Sweet? That's dirty!). There were Laura, the oldest sister(even older than me), Ria, the overly innocent girl with the chocolatte brownies, Ane, the hype one who happened to be a DJ-apprentice, and Ucrit, the small and childish girl. From the boy side, there were BIG Arif, who was a bit perverted, Tejo, the electrocutted-musician, Prama and Burhan, both with their own madness and silliness, Ernest, the photographer, and Ilham, the little brother of everyone. I really had fun with this class!!! BLASTING, guys!!
Due to some circumstances, there was no intermediate class in the following period. Instead, I was assigned to two pre-intermediate classes. But at least, in the next one, I still got my final intermediate assignment.
My job in CEIC is closed by a nice intermediate level consisted of Aulia, Celly, Pungkas, my old friend in Canista, Ronal, Koko, Tika, the talkative Cindhi, and Donna. Guess that concludes my having fun in that level.
Just realized, I wrote mainly about fun, not teaching. To be honest, teaching in the intermediate level really saves me a lot of stress. It relieved my burned-out mind and distracting all problems that I had in mind, saved for one time. Thanks guys for coloring my two-years of teaching in CEIC!
The third batch of Intermediate class consisted of some mad guys and girls. Some of them were from the previous Pre-Intermediate level. I still have Gina, Angel, Ogi, and Yaya. Only Emi wasn't there. Combined with several newcomers, the class became more colorful. Initially, the coordinator was afraid of my partiality towards the class members, since I grew closer to the previous students. But as the time progressed, the whole class develop into one soul.
And what did I do back then? To be honest, I am still questioning that myself. Was I teaching or was I just merely playing with them? This time, I started losing control over myself. They lighted up the flare triggering my “wild” state. Moreover, I got Uul, my ex-senior during the high-school day, whom I love to trick with her echolaria problem. There was also the duet, Andhi and Taufiq, the OLD (yes, I put the emphasis on the word OLD) but nice Ario, the lecturer. I also had DJ Win, whom you might not thought that he is one, since he was quite serious.
The class changed into a brotherhood and family for each of us. I still remembered how we gathered outside the class, had a “cooking class” during the weekend, and several hangouts. Well, actually we are still hanging out together until now. The inspirational thing came from them was what Ario said, “When I came into your class, I felt like having a relaxation from my office duty. That's why I couldn't wait coming to your class!”
But I cannot have them as my students forever, can I? The next batch came, and to my surprise, they were crazier. There were cousins, Yenny and
Wuri, the cool Andre,Fitri, who got the innocence face but in fact can act WILD! There were Rama, the ever-spirited boy, Laura, a childlike girl, Adit, the city planner, and the calm vet, Kristin. Donny the chipmunk, served as class clown, providing laughter and intermezo in a totally high dose. Luthfi the emo boy and Manov, the musician, who provided nice music during Friday Fun Fest. The class was also colored by the ever-ambitious Freandy and serious boy, Nanda Resa, who loved talking about politics and sometimes slow to diggest others' jokes. Gawd, I've just realized that this class is the largest in number among my other intermediate classes. Which probably is the LOUDEST class ever!!!!After taking care of such a loud class, people would think that I needed a rest. Well, actually no, but somehow the next intermediate class was the smallest in number ever. I only had three students, Ipam, Dyke, and Dimas. Whew! What a challenge, since it was very hard to lift the class' mood and atmosphere. The worst case happened during the presentation, with only one student came LATE. Aaaargh, I felt like banging my head on the wall.
Thankfully, the next batch came with a flock of gooners and looners. There were two Intermediate classes, and I was in charge for both of them. In the first class, I only got 8 students, but they were more than enough for the level of loudness. Sure, there were Dewi and Yani, the cool and calm ones. But on the other hand, I got Satya, the mad scientist, Fryssa Yudha and Paska Aprilia, the deadly duet. Combined with the queen of one liner, Olive, the occassional looner, Vincent, and the posh girl, Weni, the result was C-H-A-O-S!! I didn't need to speak much, they wouldn't stop speaking. I remembered that once someone had to take me over for the class, and she sighed deeply, “What a class!!” Ahahahahaha, you rocked, guys!!
Well, the second class of that period was as fun as the first one, but with a slower tempo. Hangu, Uut, Burhan, Lia, and Tika. All were nice students, quite active and can go wild sometime. Just in a perfect dose (while the previous class suffered from over-dosage of madness). I also got a bunch of pharmacist. Amel and her boyfriend, Dita, and the eternal victim Ema. Nice class, especially useful for balancing my sanity. Hahahahaha!!
In the begining of 2010, I had also two classes of Intermediate level. To be honest, the first class did not leave a strong impression, except for one student, Mr. D. He was the only student who literally made me want to commit homicide in class. Most of the students were standard, not really crazy. Most of the time, I was stunned with all the corny and awkward jokes.
But as the balancing law stated, I got a LOUD class at the second shift. Gee, this class even reminded me of my third period. We were once again united as a family, even managed to secure a name for the class, Syphillis class. Aww, ain't that sweet? (Sweet? That's dirty!). There were Laura, the oldest sister(even older than me), Ria, the overly innocent girl with the chocolatte brownies, Ane, the hype one who happened to be a DJ-apprentice, and Ucrit, the small and childish girl. From the boy side, there were BIG Arif, who was a bit perverted, Tejo, the electrocutted-musician, Prama and Burhan, both with their own madness and silliness, Ernest, the photographer, and Ilham, the little brother of everyone. I really had fun with this class!!! BLASTING, guys!!
Due to some circumstances, there was no intermediate class in the following period. Instead, I was assigned to two pre-intermediate classes. But at least, in the next one, I still got my final intermediate assignment.
My job in CEIC is closed by a nice intermediate level consisted of Aulia, Celly, Pungkas, my old friend in Canista, Ronal, Koko, Tika, the talkative Cindhi, and Donna. Guess that concludes my having fun in that level.
Just realized, I wrote mainly about fun, not teaching. To be honest, teaching in the intermediate level really saves me a lot of stress. It relieved my burned-out mind and distracting all problems that I had in mind, saved for one time. Thanks guys for coloring my two-years of teaching in CEIC!
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Chronicle #6 : History Department
Just a few months after being accepted in Language Institute (and finishing the probational period), I got the offer to teach at History Department. They needed a lecturer to teach writing in English III. Since the director of Language Institute knew that my thesis was about writing skill, she appointed me for the position. Of course, in an instant, I nodded my head. Hey, it was a rare opportunity.
Having been informed that my colleague used to make the syllabus for the same class, I contacted her. When receiving the last-year syllabus, I was shocked. It was different. Not including writing skill at all, but English learning strategy instead. Meanwhile, the department asked me to develop students' writing skill. So, I changed the whole syllabus.
I was nervous back then. Can my syllabus be called as reliable? Was that really a valid one? Designing material and syllabus have been my activity since several semesters backward. But this time, I am dealing with the formal institute. University and official study program. Meaning, my syllabus will also be used as the consideration in the accreditation process. I had some moments of losing my confidence.
However, in the process, I found out that it was interesting. I got all the freedom that I wanted! I was free to choose what to teach, what to test, and even what not to teach. BOOM! The syllabus was done, the material was done.
To my surprise, I found out that English class in history department was treated like a step children. There were a lot of thoughts that they are hopeless. However, faced by the opinion like that, I couldn't help but challenged. In my mind, I set what could I do for them. If they were really hopeless, how could I raise their motivation to learn English and made them confide in themselves. At least, made them feeling precious and not being left out.
Then came the day when I had to enter the class for the first time. Dang, they were late for almost half an hour. I initially wanted to be angry, but considering their nature, it will have a bad impact to their motivation if I shouted at them in the first meeting. At that moment, I decided that I had to change my paradigm. I had to be very fluid. And yet, only one student came out of three. What should I do with one student? I finally ended up on chatting, and that was the first bonding I had with students from History Department.
As the time went by, I know each of the students personally. And yet, the class turned to be a workshop class. They got no complaint, and even got no secret. Most of the time, we were just having short discussion. I grew close to Angga, the perverted otaku boy and Gilang, the bohemian one. Ah well, actually we got close real fast because we were all bohemian.
Actually, I got more “students” when teaching there. It was a big class, occupied only by two students and one lecturer. But the class was always full (with invisible things). Huauahuahuahuahau! So, I was not only teaching a human being......
On the second semester, I met with Angga and Gilang again in English IV. However, this time I met more people. Sister Mena, the persistent one. She was left behind in term of ability and English mastery, but her persistence and diligence helped her to cope up with the others. She even served as my catalyst, especially when my joke went too far. I had Ifa, the activist, in my class. She was a bright girl, but her problem came in her dilligence. She skipped the class often. Thank God, she managed to pass my class, although I had to bend my own rule once for her sake. I couldn't let someone as bright as her failed my class only because of sickness. Then, I had the gentle Tati, as much as being inaccurate, she tried hard. Like the others, she almost failed my class too, but managed to escape. Then the last member who colored my class was Ismi, the WIIIILD girl. Well, not wild in dirty context, but wild in term of attitude.
Their class was different, for we had more students. The discussion was interesting. Can you imagine the students were so eager discussing agnosticism? Or when Angga suddenly came up with the topic of Hindu Trinity. We were really helping one another. (And that might be the reason why they never believe me being a killer lecturer).
The last class in history department happened last semester. I got two more serious students, but still pretty close. Deaz and Ayunda. They were very bright! No problem with dilligence. And yet, they still thought that the class was fun.
So, what's the moral value? Hmmm, never really good with this one, but lemme try. Can I say that, never underestimate people? Since they can show you their hidden potential. And it will really left you in awe.
One thing for sure, I was glad to teach in the history department. It was a memorable thing, even my sanctuary when I felt overwhelmed by my other teaching tasks. Sanctuary, since I can release my stress and burden, teaching while stripping all the formality.
Having been informed that my colleague used to make the syllabus for the same class, I contacted her. When receiving the last-year syllabus, I was shocked. It was different. Not including writing skill at all, but English learning strategy instead. Meanwhile, the department asked me to develop students' writing skill. So, I changed the whole syllabus.
I was nervous back then. Can my syllabus be called as reliable? Was that really a valid one? Designing material and syllabus have been my activity since several semesters backward. But this time, I am dealing with the formal institute. University and official study program. Meaning, my syllabus will also be used as the consideration in the accreditation process. I had some moments of losing my confidence.
However, in the process, I found out that it was interesting. I got all the freedom that I wanted! I was free to choose what to teach, what to test, and even what not to teach. BOOM! The syllabus was done, the material was done.
To my surprise, I found out that English class in history department was treated like a step children. There were a lot of thoughts that they are hopeless. However, faced by the opinion like that, I couldn't help but challenged. In my mind, I set what could I do for them. If they were really hopeless, how could I raise their motivation to learn English and made them confide in themselves. At least, made them feeling precious and not being left out.
Then came the day when I had to enter the class for the first time. Dang, they were late for almost half an hour. I initially wanted to be angry, but considering their nature, it will have a bad impact to their motivation if I shouted at them in the first meeting. At that moment, I decided that I had to change my paradigm. I had to be very fluid. And yet, only one student came out of three. What should I do with one student? I finally ended up on chatting, and that was the first bonding I had with students from History Department.
As the time went by, I know each of the students personally. And yet, the class turned to be a workshop class. They got no complaint, and even got no secret. Most of the time, we were just having short discussion. I grew close to Angga, the perverted otaku boy and Gilang, the bohemian one. Ah well, actually we got close real fast because we were all bohemian.
Actually, I got more “students” when teaching there. It was a big class, occupied only by two students and one lecturer. But the class was always full (with invisible things). Huauahuahuahuahau! So, I was not only teaching a human being......
On the second semester, I met with Angga and Gilang again in English IV. However, this time I met more people. Sister Mena, the persistent one. She was left behind in term of ability and English mastery, but her persistence and diligence helped her to cope up with the others. She even served as my catalyst, especially when my joke went too far. I had Ifa, the activist, in my class. She was a bright girl, but her problem came in her dilligence. She skipped the class often. Thank God, she managed to pass my class, although I had to bend my own rule once for her sake. I couldn't let someone as bright as her failed my class only because of sickness. Then, I had the gentle Tati, as much as being inaccurate, she tried hard. Like the others, she almost failed my class too, but managed to escape. Then the last member who colored my class was Ismi, the WIIIILD girl. Well, not wild in dirty context, but wild in term of attitude.
Their class was different, for we had more students. The discussion was interesting. Can you imagine the students were so eager discussing agnosticism? Or when Angga suddenly came up with the topic of Hindu Trinity. We were really helping one another. (And that might be the reason why they never believe me being a killer lecturer).
The last class in history department happened last semester. I got two more serious students, but still pretty close. Deaz and Ayunda. They were very bright! No problem with dilligence. And yet, they still thought that the class was fun.
So, what's the moral value? Hmmm, never really good with this one, but lemme try. Can I say that, never underestimate people? Since they can show you their hidden potential. And it will really left you in awe.
One thing for sure, I was glad to teach in the history department. It was a memorable thing, even my sanctuary when I felt overwhelmed by my other teaching tasks. Sanctuary, since I can release my stress and burden, teaching while stripping all the formality.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Chronicle #5 : CEIC - The Beginning
Just few months before my graduation, I applied for an instructor position in Language Institute Sanata Dharma University. My motivation back then was merely for having a secure social position while looking and applying for my Master Degree.
Well, skipping all the process and impression, I was assigned for Intermediate class. You can say that since my first period until this last one, I always got Intermediate class but once when there was no applicant for that level.
The training for the instructors demanded us to be instructor fully like the theory. Positioning ourselves as the instructor, giving and being the source of knowledge. Being the new member of the community, as well as having a probational period, I tried so hard to fit in. All the things from the training were implemented in my strategy and methodology. Assigned to one mentor, I tried so hard to copy her way of teaching, knowing that she is a senior lecturer. The combination of so-called good teaching and my bohemian style came into being. Yet, I never felt comfortable.
My first class consisted of some old students from the previous level. With all efforts to show my capabilities, I never managed to get close to them. The class turned out to be corny, partly because of my inability to manage the mood. All my jokes were cheesy, and even most students said that I often offended them. My evaluation became very bad, and this means BAAAAD! It was the time when I even doubted my ability to teach. Seriously, I was thinking of giving up teaching back then.
That bad result came into the decision of prolonging my probation period. Something shameful, at least for myself. I always saw myself as adaptable and prodigy, but that cockiness finally consumed me.
On my prolonged probation period, I was assigned to three different levels. Upper Beginner, Pre-Intermediate, and Intermediate. Further humiliation came in form of my being assigned to each of the level only once a week. A proof that the seniors had no trust in my capability (which honestly is lasting until now. But hey, who cares??) This feeling of desperation was even encouraged by the fact that none of my students decided to continue to the next level.
During my desperation, I found out that one of my high school friends, Emi, enrolled in the Pre-Intermediate class. Equipped with that fact, I decided to go crazy. Hell cares with what happened to my career there. I mocked my students there, ignoring what it might do to my evaluation later on. Fortunately, they accepted all those mockeries and insults. We even insulted one another. My Bohemian Style was resurrected once again.
The schedule rolling came, and I was removed from Pre-Intermediate, putting me into the focus of Upper Beginner and Intermediate. Upper Beginner never really stroke my attention, while in the Intermediate class, I had three students from Japan. Yuta, Naomi, and Satsuki. Feeling honored for teaching foreigners, I tried to impress them with the knowledge of anime. But they saw me in turn as OTAKU. Gyahahaha! I also got a band of students from UGM, four jesters! And for the first time, I had to teach two mature guys. One was a lecturer from a reputable university, and the other was a public accountant. Another addition to the class was the beautiful Regina, who later became the MC of our outdoor activity at the time.
In the meantime, the students from Pre-Intermediate kept asking about my whereabout to the course coordinator. They missed me and wanted me to teach them back. My coordinator was very surprised knowing that I was DEMANDED! Yeah, once again, DEMANDEEED! Thus, she put me back in the pre-intermediate class. It was when I felt right back at home. It was the factor which finally put me in a more stable position at the course.
I remembered the bond, especially when I had to turn down their invitational offer for dinner. It was a very complicated situation, and I had to explain it to them. To my surprise, they invited me again for dinner. Playing trick on them, the most memorable one was making Emi literally jumping out for a horror story and hiding Ogi's bag during the final test. If I have to mention their name one by one, I will have to carve them in my very grateful heart. Emi, Angel, Gina, Yaya, and Ogi.
So, what's the lesson? I think it is being yourself. Don't force yourself to be someone you're not. If you teach in a Bohemian Style, and you enjoy it, your students will feel that. They will enjoy you in turn.
Well, skipping all the process and impression, I was assigned for Intermediate class. You can say that since my first period until this last one, I always got Intermediate class but once when there was no applicant for that level.
The training for the instructors demanded us to be instructor fully like the theory. Positioning ourselves as the instructor, giving and being the source of knowledge. Being the new member of the community, as well as having a probational period, I tried so hard to fit in. All the things from the training were implemented in my strategy and methodology. Assigned to one mentor, I tried so hard to copy her way of teaching, knowing that she is a senior lecturer. The combination of so-called good teaching and my bohemian style came into being. Yet, I never felt comfortable.
My first class consisted of some old students from the previous level. With all efforts to show my capabilities, I never managed to get close to them. The class turned out to be corny, partly because of my inability to manage the mood. All my jokes were cheesy, and even most students said that I often offended them. My evaluation became very bad, and this means BAAAAD! It was the time when I even doubted my ability to teach. Seriously, I was thinking of giving up teaching back then.
That bad result came into the decision of prolonging my probation period. Something shameful, at least for myself. I always saw myself as adaptable and prodigy, but that cockiness finally consumed me.
On my prolonged probation period, I was assigned to three different levels. Upper Beginner, Pre-Intermediate, and Intermediate. Further humiliation came in form of my being assigned to each of the level only once a week. A proof that the seniors had no trust in my capability (which honestly is lasting until now. But hey, who cares??) This feeling of desperation was even encouraged by the fact that none of my students decided to continue to the next level.
During my desperation, I found out that one of my high school friends, Emi, enrolled in the Pre-Intermediate class. Equipped with that fact, I decided to go crazy. Hell cares with what happened to my career there. I mocked my students there, ignoring what it might do to my evaluation later on. Fortunately, they accepted all those mockeries and insults. We even insulted one another. My Bohemian Style was resurrected once again.
The schedule rolling came, and I was removed from Pre-Intermediate, putting me into the focus of Upper Beginner and Intermediate. Upper Beginner never really stroke my attention, while in the Intermediate class, I had three students from Japan. Yuta, Naomi, and Satsuki. Feeling honored for teaching foreigners, I tried to impress them with the knowledge of anime. But they saw me in turn as OTAKU. Gyahahaha! I also got a band of students from UGM, four jesters! And for the first time, I had to teach two mature guys. One was a lecturer from a reputable university, and the other was a public accountant. Another addition to the class was the beautiful Regina, who later became the MC of our outdoor activity at the time.
In the meantime, the students from Pre-Intermediate kept asking about my whereabout to the course coordinator. They missed me and wanted me to teach them back. My coordinator was very surprised knowing that I was DEMANDED! Yeah, once again, DEMANDEEED! Thus, she put me back in the pre-intermediate class. It was when I felt right back at home. It was the factor which finally put me in a more stable position at the course.
I remembered the bond, especially when I had to turn down their invitational offer for dinner. It was a very complicated situation, and I had to explain it to them. To my surprise, they invited me again for dinner. Playing trick on them, the most memorable one was making Emi literally jumping out for a horror story and hiding Ogi's bag during the final test. If I have to mention their name one by one, I will have to carve them in my very grateful heart. Emi, Angel, Gina, Yaya, and Ogi.So, what's the lesson? I think it is being yourself. Don't force yourself to be someone you're not. If you teach in a Bohemian Style, and you enjoy it, your students will feel that. They will enjoy you in turn.
Saturday, August 07, 2010
Chronicle #4 : Mimika
The fourth classical experience in teaching came to me upon the chance of giving tutorial. Sanata Dharma decided to have a cooperative program with West Papua. That province sent some prospective students to study under the scholarship scheme. However, due to the different quality of education in Papua and Java, the university saw the importance of matriculation program.
The matriculation program aimed to provide a more solid basic for those students from Mimika, at least in the three basic subjects, Math, English, and Indonesian. Thus, the matriculation was given to the three study programs in Education Faculty. Being a 'lucky' student in the English Education program, I was selected to be one of the tutors. I'd say lucky, since I went to the common room during the appropriate time, and seeing my face, suddenly I got the offer to teach.
Considering that English might be difficult, we were alloted 6 meetings. Those were then divided into 6 different tutors, consisting of 3 student-teachers, 1 real teacher, and 2 lecturers. Furthermore, it was divided into several different skills. I was lucky to get speaking, working together with Bu Ade, an English teacher from SMK Pembangunan.
Just as we thought, the students were difficult. There were 20 students initially, but their number decreased over time. The learning pace was VERY SLOW, and the tutors had to be extremely patient. It was even added with the fact that during a morning session – which is unfortunately my session – they could come late for almost half an hour.
Some students were problematic, no hyperbolic expresssion intended. When we shared among the tutors, there was always one name sprung up and heated our discussion. The student's name was Marco. People thought that he was lazy, unmotivated to learn, and having an extremely low understanding. I myself never experienced that thing, since Marco rarely showed up during my session.
One day, I saw Marco in my session. He showed up late. And I found out that my partners' saying about him were all true. It was a challenge, and I decided to have a personal approach to him. Getting close to him and guide him step by step, started spending more time on him. It was frustrating at first, with countless repetition and explanation even for a simple thing. My head was almost exploding, and the rage started to accumulate within. But I affirmed myself that I could pass this.
After several meetings, I got a surprise. By the end of the class, Marco came to me and expressed his gratitude, “Sir, thank you so much for explaining extensively to me. Now I can understand those things. You know, I might be stupid, but by your explanation, I really wanted to learn more. You are the first person who came to me and repeat everything slowly. I felt ashamed for not having motivation. Thank you so much for caring about me!”
At that moment, I had an instant meltdown inside. Is that the key? Seeing your student as a human being, not a machine. That however bad your students are, you still have to treat them as a human being, cura personalis. And the persistence in personification will result in a trusting bond.
In the end, Marco did not keep his words. He failed the matriculation and was sent back to Mimika. But he did give me something to learn and reflect. How to treat your student.
And trust me, fellow teachers, if you had that moment, you will realize that some things cannot just be measured by money.
The matriculation program aimed to provide a more solid basic for those students from Mimika, at least in the three basic subjects, Math, English, and Indonesian. Thus, the matriculation was given to the three study programs in Education Faculty. Being a 'lucky' student in the English Education program, I was selected to be one of the tutors. I'd say lucky, since I went to the common room during the appropriate time, and seeing my face, suddenly I got the offer to teach.
Considering that English might be difficult, we were alloted 6 meetings. Those were then divided into 6 different tutors, consisting of 3 student-teachers, 1 real teacher, and 2 lecturers. Furthermore, it was divided into several different skills. I was lucky to get speaking, working together with Bu Ade, an English teacher from SMK Pembangunan.
Just as we thought, the students were difficult. There were 20 students initially, but their number decreased over time. The learning pace was VERY SLOW, and the tutors had to be extremely patient. It was even added with the fact that during a morning session – which is unfortunately my session – they could come late for almost half an hour.
Some students were problematic, no hyperbolic expresssion intended. When we shared among the tutors, there was always one name sprung up and heated our discussion. The student's name was Marco. People thought that he was lazy, unmotivated to learn, and having an extremely low understanding. I myself never experienced that thing, since Marco rarely showed up during my session.
One day, I saw Marco in my session. He showed up late. And I found out that my partners' saying about him were all true. It was a challenge, and I decided to have a personal approach to him. Getting close to him and guide him step by step, started spending more time on him. It was frustrating at first, with countless repetition and explanation even for a simple thing. My head was almost exploding, and the rage started to accumulate within. But I affirmed myself that I could pass this.
After several meetings, I got a surprise. By the end of the class, Marco came to me and expressed his gratitude, “Sir, thank you so much for explaining extensively to me. Now I can understand those things. You know, I might be stupid, but by your explanation, I really wanted to learn more. You are the first person who came to me and repeat everything slowly. I felt ashamed for not having motivation. Thank you so much for caring about me!”
At that moment, I had an instant meltdown inside. Is that the key? Seeing your student as a human being, not a machine. That however bad your students are, you still have to treat them as a human being, cura personalis. And the persistence in personification will result in a trusting bond.
In the end, Marco did not keep his words. He failed the matriculation and was sent back to Mimika. But he did give me something to learn and reflect. How to treat your student.
And trust me, fellow teachers, if you had that moment, you will realize that some things cannot just be measured by money.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Chronicle #3 : SMA 6
As a student of Teacher Training Faculty, there is an obligatory step to pass, Practice Teaching, or commonly referred as PPL. Well, I could not escape from that obligation as well, thus I had to undergo that at 2007. Actually, I requested specially to be placed in the school which had the international class, for the sake of my research. To be more specific, I requested to be put together with my research fellows. But tha fate brought me another story.
Not only being separated from my research fellows, I was a little bit shocked knowing that I was put in SMA 6. Well, the first impression of that senior high school is never good. It is still famous for the juvenile. Gee, I was never a naughty boy in the first place. Well, I was and still am tricky, sometimes naughty, but never into juvenile. Hell, I even despised school gang when I was still in the senior high. It was a very frightening thought.
Came the briefing time, and I was a bit relieved to find that my partners were good people. At least, they were reliable and cooperative. Not only from Sadhar, I also met student teachers from UNY and UAD. Well, never had the problem with people from UNY, but I did have a sharp covert conflict with UAD, even involving manipulating students to hate them and put bad stigma for them in the common room. You can say that I learnt how to be a cunning politician back then, how to create disgrace without being known.
Enough for that, since it will just be a completely new story and journal. This chronicle talked about the teaching experience, anyway. In that case, I was lucky for I got a nice supervising teacher. Pak Harwanto, English teacher specialized in teaching conversation and speaking. He usually taught the material out of the curriculum. His principle is encouraging the students to speak English, regarding the curriculum. Furthermore, he loved his job very much. Therefore, I never experienced the “slavery” that most practice students had. Ohohohohoho!! arrogant laugh
Pak Harwanto gave us a whole week, teaching the same material for 14 classes, and that was it. No more. So, I taught 7 meeting in 7 different classes (1st grade) with the same material, while Kenyar taught the same number of class in the 2nd grade. In the following week, we had already been freed from any teaching task. WHAT A BLISSFUL HEAVEN!!!
Being placed under that type of teacher, my Bohemian style of teaching was further developed and encouraged. He never asked me and Kenyar, the other student teacher, to write him a lesson plan and curriculum. Hell, we were never bothered with making those stuffs until the end of the program. He only asked us what to teach, a small discussion about the material, and that's it. He even asked me to give mark to Kenyar, and vice versa. Being given chance like that, of course we gave one another A. Gyahahahaha!
Well, eventhough we taught in Bohemian style,
we prepared our teaching material well. I still remember how I brought my own computer speaker to the class only for the sake of listening. Carrying the same experience of teaching in SEDC, I tried to get close to the students. Well, to be honest, I never put myself higher than those students, but trying to fit into their circle instead. Thus, the students were not afraid to me, but at the same time, they will be more obedient, since the communication is like a communication between friend.
They enjoy our classes, even though I said it myself. Being a tricky boy who loved to play trick on student teacher when I was in Senior High, I was afraid of having the same experience myself. Karmic consequence, eh? But it never happened, to my surprise. I even played trick on my students, and they were never offended, even enjoyed it. Err, I'd say that I outwitted those tricky students. That resulted in having a very WILD class. People might thought that my class was wrecked in havoc, with loud voices and shouts here and there. But hey, those were speaking classes, and the louder the merrier, eh? Pak Harwanto expressed no complaint, he even enjoyed the class.
The students? No complaint, no trick, and not even any violence. I even revised my impression that SMA 6 students ARE nice. Once you get close to them, they will even treat you as friend. I even spent the break time with some students at the canteen. Treating one another and gossiping about beautiful female students. Gee, it was a very nice experience.
Then, what is the lesson to pick from this chronicle? What did I learn from teaching at SMA 6? I guess the biggest thing I acquired was the encouragement for my bohemian teaching style. Hehehehehe! It's not wrong to be a bohemian teacher, as long as you can bring joy and knowledge to both your students and yourself. La Vie Boheme!!!
Not only being separated from my research fellows, I was a little bit shocked knowing that I was put in SMA 6. Well, the first impression of that senior high school is never good. It is still famous for the juvenile. Gee, I was never a naughty boy in the first place. Well, I was and still am tricky, sometimes naughty, but never into juvenile. Hell, I even despised school gang when I was still in the senior high. It was a very frightening thought.
Came the briefing time, and I was a bit relieved to find that my partners were good people. At least, they were reliable and cooperative. Not only from Sadhar, I also met student teachers from UNY and UAD. Well, never had the problem with people from UNY, but I did have a sharp covert conflict with UAD, even involving manipulating students to hate them and put bad stigma for them in the common room. You can say that I learnt how to be a cunning politician back then, how to create disgrace without being known.
Enough for that, since it will just be a completely new story and journal. This chronicle talked about the teaching experience, anyway. In that case, I was lucky for I got a nice supervising teacher. Pak Harwanto, English teacher specialized in teaching conversation and speaking. He usually taught the material out of the curriculum. His principle is encouraging the students to speak English, regarding the curriculum. Furthermore, he loved his job very much. Therefore, I never experienced the “slavery” that most practice students had. Ohohohohoho!! arrogant laugh
Pak Harwanto gave us a whole week, teaching the same material for 14 classes, and that was it. No more. So, I taught 7 meeting in 7 different classes (1st grade) with the same material, while Kenyar taught the same number of class in the 2nd grade. In the following week, we had already been freed from any teaching task. WHAT A BLISSFUL HEAVEN!!!
Being placed under that type of teacher, my Bohemian style of teaching was further developed and encouraged. He never asked me and Kenyar, the other student teacher, to write him a lesson plan and curriculum. Hell, we were never bothered with making those stuffs until the end of the program. He only asked us what to teach, a small discussion about the material, and that's it. He even asked me to give mark to Kenyar, and vice versa. Being given chance like that, of course we gave one another A. Gyahahahaha!
Well, eventhough we taught in Bohemian style,
we prepared our teaching material well. I still remember how I brought my own computer speaker to the class only for the sake of listening. Carrying the same experience of teaching in SEDC, I tried to get close to the students. Well, to be honest, I never put myself higher than those students, but trying to fit into their circle instead. Thus, the students were not afraid to me, but at the same time, they will be more obedient, since the communication is like a communication between friend.They enjoy our classes, even though I said it myself. Being a tricky boy who loved to play trick on student teacher when I was in Senior High, I was afraid of having the same experience myself. Karmic consequence, eh? But it never happened, to my surprise. I even played trick on my students, and they were never offended, even enjoyed it. Err, I'd say that I outwitted those tricky students. That resulted in having a very WILD class. People might thought that my class was wrecked in havoc, with loud voices and shouts here and there. But hey, those were speaking classes, and the louder the merrier, eh? Pak Harwanto expressed no complaint, he even enjoyed the class.
The students? No complaint, no trick, and not even any violence. I even revised my impression that SMA 6 students ARE nice. Once you get close to them, they will even treat you as friend. I even spent the break time with some students at the canteen. Treating one another and gossiping about beautiful female students. Gee, it was a very nice experience.
Then, what is the lesson to pick from this chronicle? What did I learn from teaching at SMA 6? I guess the biggest thing I acquired was the encouragement for my bohemian teaching style. Hehehehehe! It's not wrong to be a bohemian teacher, as long as you can bring joy and knowledge to both your students and yourself. La Vie Boheme!!!
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Chronicle #2 : Mahatma
The second massive teaching experience took place during my SPD class. At that class, every group is supposed to teach in at least one class of non-educational institution. Every group is independent, in a sense that the lecturer paid no attention to you material development or your teaching methodology. The concern here lied in the professionalism and the art of entrepreneurship.
I was very lucky to team-up with incredible people. Mahatma, the name of our team, consisted of Non, a nice lady with strong determination, Dee, who provided us with nearly-infinite networking and negotiating, Riri, who brought about creative energy towards us, Fajar, the walking dictionary, Nugroho, our gadget expert and technician, as well as Yudi, the hardworker. We were so close, even grew into a family of our own, dwelling in the Self Access Centre.
Our passion and determination resulted in two clients, Poltabes Yogya and Grand Mercure Hotel. We broke the record of income (which is not yet broken up until now) in SPD class, resulting in 7 million only from Poltabes. Those were nice time, since I had the chance of teaching adult learners. My (supposed to be) students are the commissioners, Kapolres, and some high-leveled officers. Well, considering the nature of the police, I only taught one effective class there.
Nope, that didn't mean that I only taught once in Poltabes. We still had the other class there, for Tourism Police. At least, I had the chance of teaching them as well. Fun, though the students were not really memorable. The funnest thing is the teamwork with those incredible individuals.
We had also classes in Grand Mercure Hotel. Teaching English for Hotel Staff. Again, the students were not so great, but the process was superb! I mean, we dwelt in SAC for finishing the material, working together with 5 borrowed laptops on the table (at that time, having laptop is still a privilege to some people only), accessing the internet with connection made specially for us (and there was no hotspot back then). We had lunch in the lab, something forbidden, but we were covered by the SAC attendants, and even took a nap on the couch there. In short, the SAC became our own office.
The Grand Mercure Hotel was satisfied with our work, and they extended the contract into a more specific purposes, English for Spa. This time, it was more fun than the previous, since our students were more diligent, and we had the class in spa! The real spa, with the welcoming drink. Ahahahaha, it was a very unique experience. When are you going to have a class again in the massage room?? Therapy room??
The satisfaction continued, and we were contacted for a third contract. However, some members had already busy with their own business, and we decided to disband Mahatma. And that was the end of an era, concluding the second chronicle of my teaching experience.
I was very lucky to team-up with incredible people. Mahatma, the name of our team, consisted of Non, a nice lady with strong determination, Dee, who provided us with nearly-infinite networking and negotiating, Riri, who brought about creative energy towards us, Fajar, the walking dictionary, Nugroho, our gadget expert and technician, as well as Yudi, the hardworker. We were so close, even grew into a family of our own, dwelling in the Self Access Centre.Our passion and determination resulted in two clients, Poltabes Yogya and Grand Mercure Hotel. We broke the record of income (which is not yet broken up until now) in SPD class, resulting in 7 million only from Poltabes. Those were nice time, since I had the chance of teaching adult learners. My (supposed to be) students are the commissioners, Kapolres, and some high-leveled officers. Well, considering the nature of the police, I only taught one effective class there.
Nope, that didn't mean that I only taught once in Poltabes. We still had the other class there, for Tourism Police. At least, I had the chance of teaching them as well. Fun, though the students were not really memorable. The funnest thing is the teamwork with those incredible individuals.
We had also classes in Grand Mercure Hotel. Teaching English for Hotel Staff. Again, the students were not so great, but the process was superb! I mean, we dwelt in SAC for finishing the material, working together with 5 borrowed laptops on the table (at that time, having laptop is still a privilege to some people only), accessing the internet with connection made specially for us (and there was no hotspot back then). We had lunch in the lab, something forbidden, but we were covered by the SAC attendants, and even took a nap on the couch there. In short, the SAC became our own office.
The Grand Mercure Hotel was satisfied with our work, and they extended the contract into a more specific purposes, English for Spa. This time, it was more fun than the previous, since our students were more diligent, and we had the class in spa! The real spa, with the welcoming drink. Ahahahaha, it was a very unique experience. When are you going to have a class again in the massage room?? Therapy room??
The satisfaction continued, and we were contacted for a third contract. However, some members had already busy with their own business, and we decided to disband Mahatma. And that was the end of an era, concluding the second chronicle of my teaching experience.
Friday, July 23, 2010
Chronicle #1 : SEDC
The prospect of continuing my study brings about its own consequence, I have to stop teaching for a year or more. It will be a very difficult thing to do, since I've been teaching for six years by now. Both good things and good things happened through the time being. I've encountered various people, various classes, in various condition. Thus, to honor those people as my stepping stone of learning, here I will be writing a chronicle for each and every class.
My very first chance of teaching started at August 2004, as a debate coach in SEDC, Smada English Debating Community. I was nobody back then. Although I studied at English Education, where I was supposed to be trained as a teacher, I didn't get any teaching theory or classes in my first year. So, I brought nothing, no underlying theories or principles. All I did was relying on my instinct and feeling, recalling my expectation of what a good teacher should be.
Well, it was never a formal class, since I was entrusted to coach a debating club in my former high school. There were no fixed syllabus, no fixed lesson plan, or even fixed rules. Nothing. Everything was left to me, I could do anything I wanted. But it was really valuable, for I learned how to teach by myself, I got many chances to develop my own teaching style. Moreover, I acquired myself brothers and sisters.
My relation with the trainee was different. In some ways, I never put myself higher than them. They were never considered as subordinate, just little brothers and sisters. They learned how to debate, how to solve the problem, and I shared the same things. We grew into a family, where one shared the problems to the others. Love and hate grew at the same time.
Training was never the only thing I did then. I learned how to cope with various problems. Motivating them, even stood for them in time of need. Ah, hell, I think I've written a lot about SEDC here in this blog. But the words will never be able to convey the real feeling dwelling within this soul. The warmth that those children emanated and resonated with one another.
I found myself one of my greatest brothers and friends in form of a problematic student. He was almost kicked out, and I learned through him how to stand for someone. How to encourage people, how to motivate people, as well as how to be there in the time of need.
The problem from the outside kept coming, and that was my test of endurance. To be honest, I was never strong enough to keep standing firm. No, I shed my tears million times, both in front of them or behind them. The thought of quitting constantly came into my mind, but the students in one way or another expressed that I was still needed. And at that time, I learned how the true connection of students – teacher can be really strong. Though the teacher might be smarter or older, he doesn't necessarily need to be strong all the time. The students can be your source of energy.
During the hard period of my life, when I felt alone and loveless, the existence and smile of those students were rejuvenating. They made me realize, that though I possess no girlfriend, I still have them, and I would never be alone with them. The constant message asking for advice, the complains, the smiles, and the sharings are proofs that I am still needed and loved. Some people might consider it hyperbolic, but without those students back then, I might have committed suicide. They were the lanterns enlighting my dark path, when I encountered my inner demon and felt that I would lose.
With all those things, I was never hesitated to stand up for them. Though not always frontal, I even confronted my own faculty for them. I confronted some teachers that I used to adore and admire. Why? For the sake of those children.
The salary might never be enough in number, hell, some people even said that the salary was not humane. But, hey, not all things in this world can be measured by money. There are more valuable things, such as the appreciation that you got, the smile on your students' lips, the strong bond you forged, and the sense of belonging. Those are the reason for me clinging to SEDC for 5 years.
5 years of happiness, if I may say. Those years weren't always filled with laughter and smiles. But even the cries and the tears are making it more worthed.
SEDC, my very first class, my very first students, but will never be my end. The 6 batches of SEDC debaters, whoever you are, you will always live in my memory and remembrance.
My very first chance of teaching started at August 2004, as a debate coach in SEDC, Smada English Debating Community. I was nobody back then. Although I studied at English Education, where I was supposed to be trained as a teacher, I didn't get any teaching theory or classes in my first year. So, I brought nothing, no underlying theories or principles. All I did was relying on my instinct and feeling, recalling my expectation of what a good teacher should be.
Well, it was never a formal class, since I was entrusted to coach a debating club in my former high school. There were no fixed syllabus, no fixed lesson plan, or even fixed rules. Nothing. Everything was left to me, I could do anything I wanted. But it was really valuable, for I learned how to teach by myself, I got many chances to develop my own teaching style. Moreover, I acquired myself brothers and sisters.
My relation with the trainee was different. In some ways, I never put myself higher than them. They were never considered as subordinate, just little brothers and sisters. They learned how to debate, how to solve the problem, and I shared the same things. We grew into a family, where one shared the problems to the others. Love and hate grew at the same time.
Training was never the only thing I did then. I learned how to cope with various problems. Motivating them, even stood for them in time of need. Ah, hell, I think I've written a lot about SEDC here in this blog. But the words will never be able to convey the real feeling dwelling within this soul. The warmth that those children emanated and resonated with one another.
I found myself one of my greatest brothers and friends in form of a problematic student. He was almost kicked out, and I learned through him how to stand for someone. How to encourage people, how to motivate people, as well as how to be there in the time of need.
The problem from the outside kept coming, and that was my test of endurance. To be honest, I was never strong enough to keep standing firm. No, I shed my tears million times, both in front of them or behind them. The thought of quitting constantly came into my mind, but the students in one way or another expressed that I was still needed. And at that time, I learned how the true connection of students – teacher can be really strong. Though the teacher might be smarter or older, he doesn't necessarily need to be strong all the time. The students can be your source of energy.
During the hard period of my life, when I felt alone and loveless, the existence and smile of those students were rejuvenating. They made me realize, that though I possess no girlfriend, I still have them, and I would never be alone with them. The constant message asking for advice, the complains, the smiles, and the sharings are proofs that I am still needed and loved. Some people might consider it hyperbolic, but without those students back then, I might have committed suicide. They were the lanterns enlighting my dark path, when I encountered my inner demon and felt that I would lose.
With all those things, I was never hesitated to stand up for them. Though not always frontal, I even confronted my own faculty for them. I confronted some teachers that I used to adore and admire. Why? For the sake of those children.
The salary might never be enough in number, hell, some people even said that the salary was not humane. But, hey, not all things in this world can be measured by money. There are more valuable things, such as the appreciation that you got, the smile on your students' lips, the strong bond you forged, and the sense of belonging. Those are the reason for me clinging to SEDC for 5 years.
5 years of happiness, if I may say. Those years weren't always filled with laughter and smiles. But even the cries and the tears are making it more worthed.
SEDC, my very first class, my very first students, but will never be my end. The 6 batches of SEDC debaters, whoever you are, you will always live in my memory and remembrance.
Sunday, October 04, 2009
A Lone Nerd
It was a hot noon, and my stomach growled already. The first of the month, so my paycheck was in hand. I decided to have my lunch at McDonald. It has been years since I went to that junkie-fast-food restaurant. I was just curious on how it tasted. This tongue of mine has already forgot it.
And so I went there all alone. As usual, dwelling in my own solitude. People might stare at me, a single guy entering McD without any friend. Well, I get used to it already, with all those staring and mocking glance. True, at that time I was the only one who came alone. No friend, no girlfriend. Meanwhile, everybody else was coming with at least one company.
Hell! That's what I thought. Hell with all those stigmas! I am here to eat and I pay, nothing embarassing, I said in mind.
Ordering french fries, fried chicken, and a glass of coke, I directly went into a table, just near the corner. While I browse through the whole restaurant, my prediction was true. Nobody came alone, except me..... Ah, crap! Let me just eat mine. This hunger within me unleashed giant beast already.
It came to me that another new guy came. Clean, neat, nerdy-look, along with a serious face. Y'know that kind of guy. He came alone and ordered the same menu. Went into the table in the very corner, he ate those alone. His face focused on the meal, ignoring all the degrading glance from everybody else. Yes, the attention of those attendants shifted from me to him.
At that split second, when I saw him, I saw myself. He is me, just like me. A lone nerd who enjoy himself. Ignoring what people said or thought. The most important thing, we did no wrong. That's it. Period. Nothing to be ashamed of, then.....
I smiled myself, a smile for my own. There was a slight of joy arose within me. I am not the only one standing against people's 'norm'.
So, whoever you are, Mr. Nerd-in-the-corner-of-McD-Jenderal-Sudirman-who-looked-confident-and-ignoring-those-stare-and-glance, just know that you are not alone. And I am not alone as well.
And so I went there all alone. As usual, dwelling in my own solitude. People might stare at me, a single guy entering McD without any friend. Well, I get used to it already, with all those staring and mocking glance. True, at that time I was the only one who came alone. No friend, no girlfriend. Meanwhile, everybody else was coming with at least one company.
Hell! That's what I thought. Hell with all those stigmas! I am here to eat and I pay, nothing embarassing, I said in mind.
Ordering french fries, fried chicken, and a glass of coke, I directly went into a table, just near the corner. While I browse through the whole restaurant, my prediction was true. Nobody came alone, except me..... Ah, crap! Let me just eat mine. This hunger within me unleashed giant beast already.
It came to me that another new guy came. Clean, neat, nerdy-look, along with a serious face. Y'know that kind of guy. He came alone and ordered the same menu. Went into the table in the very corner, he ate those alone. His face focused on the meal, ignoring all the degrading glance from everybody else. Yes, the attention of those attendants shifted from me to him.
At that split second, when I saw him, I saw myself. He is me, just like me. A lone nerd who enjoy himself. Ignoring what people said or thought. The most important thing, we did no wrong. That's it. Period. Nothing to be ashamed of, then.....
I smiled myself, a smile for my own. There was a slight of joy arose within me. I am not the only one standing against people's 'norm'.
So, whoever you are, Mr. Nerd-in-the-corner-of-McD-Jenderal-Sudirman-who-looked-confident-and-ignoring-those-stare-and-glance, just know that you are not alone. And I am not alone as well.
Thursday, May 07, 2009
Prayer and the Tears
I couldn't sleep, just rolling around my bed with my eyes closed. Trying to grasp some resting moments. But the image keeps reeling in my brain, just like newest movie teaser. Yes, literally a teaser, since it kept teasing me, disturbing my peaceful slumber.
Suddenly I heard a familiar melody, Chrono Trigger main theme. It was already 4.45 in the morning. The end of my bedtime. Damn! I slept from 10 at night, woke up at 4.45, but not even a sense of refreshness came.
I jumped out of my bed, and intuitively grabbed my rosary. Went up to the second floor, and saw that things are too bright. I decided to turn off the light, cleaned some spots in the floor, exactly in front of my small Pieta statue. Went down again to look for a lighter, and lighted up three candles in front of Pieta.
Why Pieta? Probably because I remembered when my friend told me, Pieta is the beginning and the ending of Jesus' life. He was born from Mary, and back to Mary in His death. The whole pain that Mary had to bear.
I made a sign of cross. No, I couldn't started my rosary prayer. Tears rolled in my cheeks. Damn! "God, I just don't know what to do. I tried to chant the rosary prayer, to look for empowerement, but it made me cried even more!"
I touched the small cross. "I believe in one God, the father, the almighty,......" Bead by bead in that section was touched by my fingers. It came to the beginning of the first ten Hail Mary.
I stopped. My tears bursted. Couldn't handle it any longer. "Good God, I know this pain is nothing compared to your passion to Calvary. But I needed a break, really. I have found a lover, someone who care for me. Yet, You still lay a path of stone for me! How long should I bear this wounded body?"
Tear by tear fell into the beads as I recite, "Hail Mary, full of grace. The Lord is with thee....."
After finishing the first ten, I barely sobbed. I calmed down, my emotion was soothed. I started imagining that somebody supported me, like Mary supported Jesus. Continuing my second-ten-Hail Mary, I did them calmly. But on the tenth bead, I couldn't hold it any longer. I want Mother Mary, who support her son whatever path He chose. Bearing the pain of embarassement, but She hold that for her love to Christ.
It was just unlike somebody that I know, who can even throw knife at me many times. Those images kept reeling over my mind. The broomstick over my whole body, the duster over my back, all the bumps on head. I saw the flashback, complete with the voice of thrown plates, broken glass, and flying knives. The scar on my left cheek. Where she is supposed to be my Mother Mary.
I stopped my prayer again. "God, I need somebody to support me. I wanted somebody to walk hand in hand with me. I know you gave me that already, but we just cannot make it until the condition is clear! It will still a long way to go, not until I live my own life."
The next ten Hail Mary were decorated with constant sobbing and rolling tears. I grabbed the bead tighter, trying to put my mind at ease in the dark of the dusk. My mouth kept reciting the prayers, but my mind wandered around.
Where were you, dear lady, when the world turned against me? You didn't provide a shelter, yet you were in the side of the rest. Where were you when I tried so hard to stand firm over the attack? You were the hardest attacker. Just in time when I need a shoulder to cry on and trust, you threw me away with disgust. You threw me away from your home, and your re-acceptance was filled with suspicions.
I got home with bruises in my body, made by the children. You gave me that love, yet some moments later, you added more bruises. In my body, and in my heart. I came home, seeking a shelter, for I was exiled for being different, and you exiled me as well. For a whole week, I couldn't hear any word from you.
At that time, I was totally jealous with Jesus. He had Mary, as a worldly place to turn to. The one who stood before him in the time of passion. The one who stood before the cross. And the one who gave a silent cry while having His body over her knees.
Amen. Finished. "God, guide me through my journey by these beads. I know things are painful, but it might be for a greater sake. For my plan is not Your plan. But I cannot make it myself, just lend me Your power and please stay beside me. Let it happen to me according to Your wish, for I am your mere vessel!"
Suddenly I heard a familiar melody, Chrono Trigger main theme. It was already 4.45 in the morning. The end of my bedtime. Damn! I slept from 10 at night, woke up at 4.45, but not even a sense of refreshness came.
I jumped out of my bed, and intuitively grabbed my rosary. Went up to the second floor, and saw that things are too bright. I decided to turn off the light, cleaned some spots in the floor, exactly in front of my small Pieta statue. Went down again to look for a lighter, and lighted up three candles in front of Pieta.Why Pieta? Probably because I remembered when my friend told me, Pieta is the beginning and the ending of Jesus' life. He was born from Mary, and back to Mary in His death. The whole pain that Mary had to bear.
I made a sign of cross. No, I couldn't started my rosary prayer. Tears rolled in my cheeks. Damn! "God, I just don't know what to do. I tried to chant the rosary prayer, to look for empowerement, but it made me cried even more!"
I touched the small cross. "I believe in one God, the father, the almighty,......" Bead by bead in that section was touched by my fingers. It came to the beginning of the first ten Hail Mary.
I stopped. My tears bursted. Couldn't handle it any longer. "Good God, I know this pain is nothing compared to your passion to Calvary. But I needed a break, really. I have found a lover, someone who care for me. Yet, You still lay a path of stone for me! How long should I bear this wounded body?"
Tear by tear fell into the beads as I recite, "Hail Mary, full of grace. The Lord is with thee....."
After finishing the first ten, I barely sobbed. I calmed down, my emotion was soothed. I started imagining that somebody supported me, like Mary supported Jesus. Continuing my second-ten-Hail Mary, I did them calmly. But on the tenth bead, I couldn't hold it any longer. I want Mother Mary, who support her son whatever path He chose. Bearing the pain of embarassement, but She hold that for her love to Christ.
It was just unlike somebody that I know, who can even throw knife at me many times. Those images kept reeling over my mind. The broomstick over my whole body, the duster over my back, all the bumps on head. I saw the flashback, complete with the voice of thrown plates, broken glass, and flying knives. The scar on my left cheek. Where she is supposed to be my Mother Mary.
I stopped my prayer again. "God, I need somebody to support me. I wanted somebody to walk hand in hand with me. I know you gave me that already, but we just cannot make it until the condition is clear! It will still a long way to go, not until I live my own life."
The next ten Hail Mary were decorated with constant sobbing and rolling tears. I grabbed the bead tighter, trying to put my mind at ease in the dark of the dusk. My mouth kept reciting the prayers, but my mind wandered around.
Where were you, dear lady, when the world turned against me? You didn't provide a shelter, yet you were in the side of the rest. Where were you when I tried so hard to stand firm over the attack? You were the hardest attacker. Just in time when I need a shoulder to cry on and trust, you threw me away with disgust. You threw me away from your home, and your re-acceptance was filled with suspicions.
I got home with bruises in my body, made by the children. You gave me that love, yet some moments later, you added more bruises. In my body, and in my heart. I came home, seeking a shelter, for I was exiled for being different, and you exiled me as well. For a whole week, I couldn't hear any word from you.
At that time, I was totally jealous with Jesus. He had Mary, as a worldly place to turn to. The one who stood before him in the time of passion. The one who stood before the cross. And the one who gave a silent cry while having His body over her knees.
Amen. Finished. "God, guide me through my journey by these beads. I know things are painful, but it might be for a greater sake. For my plan is not Your plan. But I cannot make it myself, just lend me Your power and please stay beside me. Let it happen to me according to Your wish, for I am your mere vessel!"
Sunday, January 18, 2009
I Still Miss Him after 8 years,,,,,,,,,,,,
I dreamt about him two nights ago. A person that occupied my hearts for long. The one who really cared about me, put me high, and supported me. His name is Agus Buntoro Junaedi, also known as Lie Beng Yun (sorry, don’t know how to trancript it into pinyin). And I used to call him Opa. Yep, he’s my grandfather from the mother side.
I got to say that I was his favourite grandson. Sure, I was his only grandson for 6 years. My little brother was born when I was 6 years old, but we moved away from his house. So, I could proudly say that his affection to me was greater than to my brother and cousins.
He passed away 8 years ago, in 2001. Diabetes Melitus, said the doctor. But the family still believe that the only reason he passed away was his heartbroken. He lost my grandmother 4 year prior. Gee, such a romantic love story (when will I have the same story?)
In my dream, he appeared to me as I remember him. Big, dark, tall, strong. His glorious era. “Doel, let’s go looking for sate kambing!” he asked me. Sate Kambing was something binding us, in fact. He liked to try food from various restaurants. Since he didn’t like to go alone, I was always the one he took. My father and uncle couldn’t eat much, so he wouldn’t be satisfied. Different with me, as my stomach is as bottomless as his, he liked to go with me. And his favourite food was Sate Kambing.
We took off, went to the restaurant, and coming back home again. To my surprise, we didn’t ride Viki (my red Yamaha V-ixion). We rode my old motorbike instead. The memorable Honda Supercup. Right in front of the graveyard near my house, we switched position. Reaching my house, I awoke.
Damn! I didn’t have any thought about him previously. Why did I dream of him suddenly? But then, I missed him deeply. So, Opa, wherever you are, please watch me from above.
PS : Have I made you proud, pa? I’m trying my best to be the best of me. But I’m not perfect. I still have some mistakes and flaws.
I got to say that I was his favourite grandson. Sure, I was his only grandson for 6 years. My little brother was born when I was 6 years old, but we moved away from his house. So, I could proudly say that his affection to me was greater than to my brother and cousins.
He passed away 8 years ago, in 2001. Diabetes Melitus, said the doctor. But the family still believe that the only reason he passed away was his heartbroken. He lost my grandmother 4 year prior. Gee, such a romantic love story (when will I have the same story?)In my dream, he appeared to me as I remember him. Big, dark, tall, strong. His glorious era. “Doel, let’s go looking for sate kambing!” he asked me. Sate Kambing was something binding us, in fact. He liked to try food from various restaurants. Since he didn’t like to go alone, I was always the one he took. My father and uncle couldn’t eat much, so he wouldn’t be satisfied. Different with me, as my stomach is as bottomless as his, he liked to go with me. And his favourite food was Sate Kambing.
We took off, went to the restaurant, and coming back home again. To my surprise, we didn’t ride Viki (my red Yamaha V-ixion). We rode my old motorbike instead. The memorable Honda Supercup. Right in front of the graveyard near my house, we switched position. Reaching my house, I awoke.
Damn! I didn’t have any thought about him previously. Why did I dream of him suddenly? But then, I missed him deeply. So, Opa, wherever you are, please watch me from above.
PS : Have I made you proud, pa? I’m trying my best to be the best of me. But I’m not perfect. I still have some mistakes and flaws.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
The Innocent Friendship
I went to the Christmas Eve mass last night. Yeah, it's already Christmas again. I decided to celebrate my 22nd Christmas in Kidul Loji, the memorable parish, a place where I was christened, a place where I received my first holy communion, and also a place where I received my Chrisma sacrament.Unfortunately, I couldn't focus my mind completely to the mass. At a time like that, my mind was occupied on something else. I tried my best to place my focus, but still I couldn't get the essence on attending the mass. It was until the eucharist prayer, I had this blank state of mind.
When they reach eucharist prayer, I noticed that it was the Eucharist Prayer 1. A prayer rarely used, but quite a memory for me. It mentioned several names of saints, and my patron saint is mentioned there. Quite a surprise, eh, since many people know not of the saint. But that's not the most important thing. The most intriguing part is the mentioning of St. Laurentius and St. Chrysogonus. Yep, two names as one.
I have this best friend of mine since kindergarten (and yea, we still try to maintain our friendship). His name is Laurentius Dian Ardiyanto.
Now you know why the prayer is so memorable. Because it mentions our name together! Laurentius and Chrysogonus. As we were still elementary level students, we often thought that it might be the sign from above, that our friendship will last forever. That our friendship might be started from our patron saints. That they might be friends (a completely wrong thing, now that we found out that St. Chrysogonus and St. Laurentius didn't live in the same era).
At the moment, my mind flew back to the past, revisiting some events involving us. Participated together in the radio broadcasting as a choir member, sleeping over at one another's home, being in the same group of boy scout, camped together, even his father being the godfather of my little brother. He was the one introducing me to the complexity and beauty of video game =)) (But I still play till now, while he gave up). He lent me books that I couldn't afford then, opening my horizon to the Dragon Ball Z Universe (very useless, eh???). But then, small things like that are what make up greatest memories. Our innocence..............
And at that time, I realized the essence of this year's Christmas. Friendship! This value of friendship.
Wednesday, December 03, 2008
There Is Life................
I had an interesting comment for my last post, Jakarta Ranting #3.
"Point! I lose my salary basically for that reason, Chrys. Sometimes, I hang out in J-Co after work to do some gossiping under the simple reason "Rejuvination for tomorrow's work". If I couldn't come, I'll be alienated by my colleagues. Fyuh, what a bad relationship..."
(Courtesy of sinting_maut, automatically translated into English. Hehehehe!)
Jah! Reading this comment, I suddenly slipped into a dimensional wormhole and revisiting some moments in my life. This is what is happening in my office. A high demand of social gathering over professional advance. Damn, I am expected to come to the office doing nothing only for the sake of avoiding alienation. Meanwhile, my translation project is left behind. (Darn, haven't had the chance even to read the accursed Killing Freud!).
The thing is, some office culture demand us to spend more time with them than enjoying ourselves. This is something that I don't quite understand. After being absorbed with work for a long time, how could people choose not to have time for themselves.
Well, hanging out together with friends for work is also one of the ways. But then, it should not be obligatory. Once in a while, we should have the right to reject the offer.
Hanging out together with some friends for the office is not bad. What I hate is the concept of singular world. Yep, just like the principle of "There is no life outside debate" in which I never agree with. So guys, please avoid the sentence, "There is no life outside the office" (or to be more precise, There is no life outside the institution? Hehehehe!)
"Point! I lose my salary basically for that reason, Chrys. Sometimes, I hang out in J-Co after work to do some gossiping under the simple reason "Rejuvination for tomorrow's work". If I couldn't come, I'll be alienated by my colleagues. Fyuh, what a bad relationship..."
(Courtesy of sinting_maut, automatically translated into English. Hehehehe!)
Jah! Reading this comment, I suddenly slipped into a dimensional wormhole and revisiting some moments in my life. This is what is happening in my office. A high demand of social gathering over professional advance. Damn, I am expected to come to the office doing nothing only for the sake of avoiding alienation. Meanwhile, my translation project is left behind. (Darn, haven't had the chance even to read the accursed Killing Freud!).
The thing is, some office culture demand us to spend more time with them than enjoying ourselves. This is something that I don't quite understand. After being absorbed with work for a long time, how could people choose not to have time for themselves.
Well, hanging out together with friends for work is also one of the ways. But then, it should not be obligatory. Once in a while, we should have the right to reject the offer.
Hanging out together with some friends for the office is not bad. What I hate is the concept of singular world. Yep, just like the principle of "There is no life outside debate" in which I never agree with. So guys, please avoid the sentence, "There is no life outside the office" (or to be more precise, There is no life outside the institution? Hehehehe!)
Under the snow
Beneth the frozen streams
There is life
You'll have to know
When nature sleeps she dreams
There is life
And the colder the winter
The warmer the spring
The deeper the sorrow
The more our hearts sing
Even when you can't see it
Inside everything
There is Life...
(There Is Life - Allison Krauss - OST Bambi 2)
Beneth the frozen streams
There is life
You'll have to know
When nature sleeps she dreams
There is life
And the colder the winter
The warmer the spring
The deeper the sorrow
The more our hearts sing
Even when you can't see it
Inside everything
There is Life...
(There Is Life - Allison Krauss - OST Bambi 2)
See, even Bambi thought so.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
(Is it Really) A Marriage Proposal??
Yep, you read the title right, a marriage proposal. And this proposal was really given to me by "the little devil". (She's probably out of her mind, eh?)
The story took place when I was adjudicating for Indonesian debate competition in campus. The clock was already at 17.15, and it was the last round of debate that day. I was so damn tired, since I've been adjudicating since 09.00, continuously, as well as helping the tabulation. I stretched my body on my chair, and at that moment, I saw her sitting in the back row of the room. DAMN, said I in my head. But then, I tried to think positively, that probably she needed some entertainment after attending the expo stand for the whole day.
The round was over. Me, Pak Karmin, and Ferer were walking out of the room, when she suddenly came over to me. She pat my shoulder and said, "Mas, I got to say thank you!"
Cold voice mode: on. I answered, "For what?"
"For making me annoyed. I started to study harder then!"
Still in freezing tone, "Oh. Good for you!"
SHe looked at me gaily (sorry, got to use this old term.. Hehehehe!) "And anyway, I change my target already!"
I smiled at heart. YES! YES! YES! But, I gotta maintain my charisma, and still with a whisper from within the blizzard storm, I answered, "OK!" Short, cold, and straight.
"I ain't aiming to be your girlfriend again!" Wooohoooo!!!!! I felt like hopping around like a drunken bunny. FINALLY!!!!!
"My target now is to be your wife!"
BLAAAR!!!! The clear sky seemed to be dark and stormy. My world suddenly turned upside down. SHE'S CRAZY!!!!!!!!!! Totally crazyyyyyyyy!!!!!!!! I had enough with her, and by all mind tried to shoo her outta my way. But, she's too aggressive to be shooed. *changing the setting into Crisis on Infinite Earths #10 cover, where Superman cried over Supergirl's dead body (Ooops, spoiler!) NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!
Dammit, dammit, dammit! Since that time, she started acting like a spoiled girlfriend from hell, attached too close, which made me hate her even more. Eeeeew!!!!!
The story took place when I was adjudicating for Indonesian debate competition in campus. The clock was already at 17.15, and it was the last round of debate that day. I was so damn tired, since I've been adjudicating since 09.00, continuously, as well as helping the tabulation. I stretched my body on my chair, and at that moment, I saw her sitting in the back row of the room. DAMN, said I in my head. But then, I tried to think positively, that probably she needed some entertainment after attending the expo stand for the whole day.
The round was over. Me, Pak Karmin, and Ferer were walking out of the room, when she suddenly came over to me. She pat my shoulder and said, "Mas, I got to say thank you!"
Cold voice mode: on. I answered, "For what?"
"For making me annoyed. I started to study harder then!"
Still in freezing tone, "Oh. Good for you!"
SHe looked at me gaily (sorry, got to use this old term.. Hehehehe!) "And anyway, I change my target already!"
I smiled at heart. YES! YES! YES! But, I gotta maintain my charisma, and still with a whisper from within the blizzard storm, I answered, "OK!" Short, cold, and straight.
"I ain't aiming to be your girlfriend again!" Wooohoooo!!!!! I felt like hopping around like a drunken bunny. FINALLY!!!!!
"My target now is to be your wife!"
BLAAAR!!!! The clear sky seemed to be dark and stormy. My world suddenly turned upside down. SHE'S CRAZY!!!!!!!!!! Totally crazyyyyyyyy!!!!!!!! I had enough with her, and by all mind tried to shoo her outta my way. But, she's too aggressive to be shooed. *changing the setting into Crisis on Infinite Earths #10 cover, where Superman cried over Supergirl's dead body (Ooops, spoiler!) NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!
Dammit, dammit, dammit! Since that time, she started acting like a spoiled girlfriend from hell, attached too close, which made me hate her even more. Eeeeew!!!!!
Thursday, November 06, 2008
Office oh Office............
I wanted to stay away from my office for a while! That's for sure.
I don't know why, probably i'm being too naive to think that this office is really something. That no problem will ever happen here.
Then, voila! Many problems came!
My probation period is prolonged, since the last period, I got not really positive comments from students in my class. But, in fact, even my partner in that class, a long time lecturer from English Education, also got even worse comment than me.. That class was really a hard class. Lifting up their mood is a very hard job.
I am expected (indirectly) to stay in the office, while doing nothing. For in fact, the work management is crumbled and totally disorganized. The longer I stay in the office, the more acceptance I will get. But doing nothing? Waiting for empty space until my jaw drop? I can use my time for another productive things, dude! The risk is, I will be alienated from the office. People started thinking that I am anti social! Being regarded as anti-social really help me to be out from the long-formed-bond..... Dilemma, eh?
I found many things hidden beneath the veil of tranquility. People there are really smart to hide those problems under their hospitality. Hidden hostility, should I say.
Dammit, I really want to throw it away in a writing, but my brain is too messed up.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
The Call - Another Ranting of Faith and Belief
It started out as a feeling,
Which then grow into a hope
Which then turn into a quiet thought
Which then turn into a quite word
And then the word grew louder and louder
Till it was a battle cry
I’ll call back when you call me
That was a lyric from “The Call”, an ending song of Chronicles of Narnia : Prince Caspian. The song was sung by Regina Spektor. Ever since I first heard it in the cinema, I was drawn into it. Well, the melody is the one I like. Googling for it, but never got the MP3, perhaps because it is not a famous song. However, thanks to the miracle called youtube, I was able to get it complete with the lyrics.
No, I’m not going to comment on the song, on how it really is good. Still related to the previous post of mine, about the call. Is it an accident that I stumbled into this song on my playlist this morning? The very first part of the song gave me a clue of what a call is.
It was first a feeling, and then a hope, then we start thinking about it quietly, lingered in our mind. Okay, period here. I am in this stage, where the idea, the feeling lingered in my mind for like an eternity. But for me, that word is not, I mean, has not become louder as a battle cry. Instead, it is (still) a whisper.
Pay attention to the last line, I’ll call you back when you call me. So much of my missed-call concept, eh? That I’m delaying replying the call from above until I’m ready. But when is the exact time of my readiness? Is it now? Now that I’ve entered the grey area of life?
I humbly realized that no single living entity under heaven could help me in making decision. It’s solely the product of my own mind. In a flash, my mind flew back to SPD class, where bu Lani told us about CAC, Choice, Action, and Consequences. That we have to be ready to take any consequence from any of our action.
Going back to the fire aspect, I think I have yet to discover the fire within my soul. That fire will be the driving force (and no, I’m not referring to libido, since the context is out of Freud!). Once I find it, I’ll know where to go. Thus, I have to once again depart for a journey to my deepest self. Kinda remind me of tarot, where Hermit card is said to be my personal card, along with High Priestess. High Priestess means the esotheric side, and Hermit means a journey within to look something veiled deep in the soul of ours.
Gee, what’s the bottomline of my ranting? That I stumbled into a perfect song to add my confusion!
PS : Romo Agus replied my email of confusion and responded. “Maybe it’s good to consider your feeling over those options. What feeling is more dominant, then follow it!” (automatically translated into English – red. Huahahahahaha!)
Monday, September 08, 2008
Hypochondria
Again, I was tickled when reading the article in recent edition of Intisari. This article was in the health section and talked about Hypochondria. Wow, wow, wow, what the hell is hypochondria?
According to the article, hypochondria is an extreme paranoia of disease. Some people have the awareness towards diseases, but in the case of hypochondria, they tend to think that they have certain disease. They are convinced that they have, say for example, deadly cancer within their body. Moreover, the information that they got through reading the health article convinced them more that they have that. Wow! In relation to the recent development of information technology, there is also cyberchondria, in which one got the information of diseases through the internet.
Bad news, hypochondria and cyberchondria is classified into a mental disorder caused by trauma. WOW! Big wow!
Cha and Mit were always annoyed with my over analyzing the symptoms within my body. I once thought that I had skin cancer, though in fact I got allergy. Thinking of having a brain cancer while I actually was totally tired. The recent one, I thought that I had prostate cancer while actually it was just the cold weather forcing me to urinate often. I once also thought that I got HIV when the mosquito bites in my skin leave a black spot, while in fact it's the genetic skin problem from my mother side. From D to A, to M, to N! Gimme DAMN!
PS : I actually want to write this article under the name extreme paranoia, but after reading the article, I decided to change the title into Hypochondria. Wew, what the hell did the writer in Intisari think?
According to the article, hypochondria is an extreme paranoia of disease. Some people have the awareness towards diseases, but in the case of hypochondria, they tend to think that they have certain disease. They are convinced that they have, say for example, deadly cancer within their body. Moreover, the information that they got through reading the health article convinced them more that they have that. Wow! In relation to the recent development of information technology, there is also cyberchondria, in which one got the information of diseases through the internet.Bad news, hypochondria and cyberchondria is classified into a mental disorder caused by trauma. WOW! Big wow!
Cha and Mit were always annoyed with my over analyzing the symptoms within my body. I once thought that I had skin cancer, though in fact I got allergy. Thinking of having a brain cancer while I actually was totally tired. The recent one, I thought that I had prostate cancer while actually it was just the cold weather forcing me to urinate often. I once also thought that I got HIV when the mosquito bites in my skin leave a black spot, while in fact it's the genetic skin problem from my mother side. From D to A, to M, to N! Gimme DAMN!
PS : I actually want to write this article under the name extreme paranoia, but after reading the article, I decided to change the title into Hypochondria. Wew, what the hell did the writer in Intisari think?
Ranting from AJCU - EAO Annual Meeting 2008
Still another rambling from last AJCU-EAO Annual Meeting. This time, I’m going to rant on the very first session of the meeting, presentation of GC 35 result. Father Bambang from ATMI Solo presented his understanding on it, putting the emphasis on the 4F, which are Fire, Frontier, Fidelity, and Friendship. Those points were quite interesting and inspiring though, with the tagline to summarize it saying “Fire in our hearts, Frontier is the mission, Fidelity is the cause, and Friendship is the way.”
Hmm, talking about the fire and frontier, it really is inspiring. Fire burning within the heart to start the frontier. But, I’m not writing to preach upon those. It is so not me to preach something that I didn’t do. Some parts of his paper are the main point of discussion here in this article. It tickled me so hard, pondered my mind quickly, and banged my soul to pieces. It was under the sub-heading “Religion in the Post-Modern World”.
“The Renaissance and sociologist in the forties, made a hypothesis that religion will slowly disappear. Contrary to that prediction, in the post-modern society, religion way of lives still exists and can grow in the framework of secular government system. Religion and religious lives still give the important foundation where the collective and personal identity can be formed. This becomes a source of extraordinary energy to motivate common action. The Renaissance, which brought the demystification of the world, has reached its limits. Indirectly, what is the most essential in religiosity comes to surface in our age, as an irreplaceable horizon, which can even embrace the most secular.
(Yep, I’ll give my comment directly per paragraph between brackets. Can’t deny the fact that religion is still considered important, though it doesn’t rule every aspect of life. GOD! I can’t imagine my whole life being controlled by those strict rules. I mean, there are some good points in religion, but giving my life all to those dogmas? You gotta be kidding me! Giving my life all to God is okay, but to Dogmas??? Get real, dude! Dogmas are man-made. And, I believe with all my heart, that God didn’t spend His time to construct strict rules, like how we should pray, when should we pray, what should and shouldn’t be eaten, what tools to use, and blah blah blah….. Call me heretic if you want, but for me rules are made to break. Place as many rules around me, and I’ll find a way to break it without anyone accusing me guilty. Wait, that’s so Jesuit, isn’t it? Hehehehe… kidding!)
“In the modern society, religion is practices in the context of technical, rational, science based, and communication media focused environment. Those are not the main problem. The most dangerous threat to religion is the individualism which grows together with modernity. It is the very problem which is fought against by fundamentalist movement, or better expression: the “counter secular” movements. Individualism makes religion lost its unifying social role. The trend is to treat religion like supermarket, where rituals, myth, and mysticism, as well as dogma can be chosen as individual likeness. The pure individualistic and market oriented approach creates a spirituality which is incomplete and without commitment.”
(DAMN! This is the very point which strikes me in heart, pierced my soul and shattered it to million crunches. I put logic in every ritual that I had to follow, analyze those in many angles. I started to hate the unity, hate the fact that I’m going to meet many people in churches. Hate seeing people that I considered as hypocrites, placing religion above GOD Himself. Especially after the incident with that BITCH named FEA. Yep, I finally write her real name. Still can’t forgive her for that, way too deep, brainless girl. Wew, I ranted again….. Sorry guys. Back to topic, I went studying other religions, even those paganisms. I was into Kabala, Buddhism, Hinduism, and lately, I studied Druidism. Am I just a customer in the market? My real reason for avoiding going to mass all this time is this boredom towards the long ritual as well as the annoyance of people who place rituals and dogmas as something strict as nail.)
Here comes the most surprising fact. Despite those rants and ramblings I had above, I did consider entering the scholastic! Marvelous!!! What could be funnier?
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
A Story from Room 257
I went to Cikarang since last Monday (25/8) for a meeting of AJCU-EAO (Association of Jesuit Colleges and University - East Asia Oceania). Well, I'm not Jesuit, though, but how knows if one day I'll be one. In fact, most of the comers are Jesuits. Wow, it must be very hard for my sinful soul to be in that kind of community, taking communion and join the mass every evening. Surprise, surprise! I enjoy it...
Well, enough with the meeting, since it will make a whole new story which I might tell it later. I stayed at the room 257 of Grand Cikarang hotel. This room gave me some interesting stories.
At first, I thought that I'm going to find a beautiful room, with bathtub in the bathroom. But, it is not a first class room (or a room that I imagine would be found in such hotel). Well, I have a kingsize bed only for me alone, an air conditioner, and cable TV, as well as hot water shower. But, no bathtub!!! It might sound so dumb, but I want to try bathing in such tub while reading and sipping hot tea.
At my first night, I could barely sleep. Every once in a while, there was a knock on my door. And everytime I opened the door to see the knocker, to greet him or her, no one was there. Yep, it seemed like something knocked on my door, not someone. It's not that I was afraid. There was no single fright in my vein. It was just the annoyance. I always thought that it was either Bu Tri or Romo Agus. It was annoying though, and I wasn't able to sleep until 2 AM. I had to wake up at 5 AM. So, it was only 3-hour-sleep. And to think that I am a long sleeper........
Thanks GOD there was no disturbance in the second day. And you think that all the problems are solved? Nope, there was new problem though. There was a damage in my door key system. I couldn't open it at morning when I wanted to take my belt. I gave my card to the FO, and I left, escorting the city tour. When I came back, I found that the dinner plate was in front of my room. So, I assumed that everything is OK. Yeah, you think. I still couldn't open it!!!!
I went back to the FO and reported this. They didn't believe me, but when seeing the door, they started to get panicked. Nothing they can do to fix the condition. I had to wait at lobby for 30 minutes, with an exhausted body (remember, I got only 3 hours to sleep the previous nite!) and heavy eyes. I need rest badly to prepare for the welcoming dinner. And there was I, sitting at the lobby, waiting for the mechanics to fix my door.
Half an hour later, they came and lightly said to me, "Okay sir, your door can be opened now!" He left me and smiled. DAMMIT! Having been teaching English and manner in hotel, I know that they are supposed to at least say sorry or even gave some kind of compensation. But this?? Ouch! So much of a professionalism.
Friday, August 01, 2008
I'm covering your face, indigenous WOMAN!
I just received a message this morning from Fe via Friendster. She told me that she didn't agree with my writing at GEMAS. For her, my writing was too radical and implied N.A.T.O (No Action, Talk Only). Well, in the extend of only criticizing Mudika Gamping without giving any solution. One of her line in the messaga was, “We don't need people who are only able to talk. We need people who are able to strike! You never participated in the activity, yet you spoke like that.”
Hey, wait young lady! ARE YOU COMPLETELY BLIND?
CAN'T YOU EVEN READ THE ARTICLE?
Those two articles are not about critics towards mudika. I even positioned myself as the criticized mudika, who try to defend myself. In other words, those articles are basically a defense for mudika!
My first article was about the innovation in the mass, adjusted to the needs and nature of youngsters. I tried to convince those old geezers lingering at the church to accept the concept of rejuvenation and adjustment. IT WORKED, YOUNG LADY! Right after my article was published, those old geezers gave you guys the permission to conduct adjusted mass (a.k.a. EKM / Youth Eucharist). I didn't claim to be the only factor behind this, but at least, please OPEN YOUR F***ING EYES!!!!!!
My second article was about the call towards youth. Aren't you aware that those old geezers kept accusing us as the generation with no CALL at all? I argued in my writing that GOD called us in a different way, totally different from their generation. I was trying to say that our generation is still as good as theirs, or even BETTER. See, which part of my article is criticizing mudika? Which part of my story is criticizing your STUPID GOD-FORSAKEN-I-MEAN-ALMOST-FORGOTTEN-AND-LEFT-BEHIND ORGANIZATION??? TELL ME!! I WAS TRYING TO SAVE YOUR FACES FROM THE OLD GEEZERS.
I had to admit, I wrote the article in the same way I wrote my blog. Hot and straight! Probably those BRAINLESS PRICKS were not able to get my point.
Okay! Calm down, calm down! Take a deep breath! Inhale, exhale... Inhale slowly, exhale calmly........
Yup, I regained my awareness and consciousness back. At this state of mind, I suddenly remember what Mbak Enny said earlier. “Yes, we are trying to help marginalized people, indigenous people. However, do they think and regard themselves as the marginalized ones? Indigenous ones? Sometimes they think that they don't need any help then. Or worse, they know that they are ones, and they just enjoy their comfort zones, their status as the indigenous, as well as their privileges. Thus, they will blind themselves, reject every help offering! This is a dilemma!”
Hmmm, so, do I need to stay away from them? I care for them, and do what I can from my position. Remember, YOUNG LADY! I've been in that organization even when you were still in your f***ing crib!
Therefore, being treated like this, I still strongly believe that my taking leave from the church temporarily is not a bad thing. I could still talk to GOD through my personal prayer, through my daily activity and routines. Javanese people said “Gusti menika mboten sare!” (God never sleeps, dude!)
PS : Sorry I had to bring this personal matter to the public place, but I think YOU DESERVE TO BE MENTIONED HERE, FE!
Hey, wait young lady! ARE YOU COMPLETELY BLIND?
CAN'T YOU EVEN READ THE ARTICLE?Those two articles are not about critics towards mudika. I even positioned myself as the criticized mudika, who try to defend myself. In other words, those articles are basically a defense for mudika!
My first article was about the innovation in the mass, adjusted to the needs and nature of youngsters. I tried to convince those old geezers lingering at the church to accept the concept of rejuvenation and adjustment. IT WORKED, YOUNG LADY! Right after my article was published, those old geezers gave you guys the permission to conduct adjusted mass (a.k.a. EKM / Youth Eucharist). I didn't claim to be the only factor behind this, but at least, please OPEN YOUR F***ING EYES!!!!!!
My second article was about the call towards youth. Aren't you aware that those old geezers kept accusing us as the generation with no CALL at all? I argued in my writing that GOD called us in a different way, totally different from their generation. I was trying to say that our generation is still as good as theirs, or even BETTER. See, which part of my article is criticizing mudika? Which part of my story is criticizing your STUPID GOD-FORSAKEN-I-MEAN-ALMOST-FORGOTTEN-AND-LEFT-BEHIND ORGANIZATION??? TELL ME!! I WAS TRYING TO SAVE YOUR FACES FROM THE OLD GEEZERS.
I had to admit, I wrote the article in the same way I wrote my blog. Hot and straight! Probably those BRAINLESS PRICKS were not able to get my point.
Okay! Calm down, calm down! Take a deep breath! Inhale, exhale... Inhale slowly, exhale calmly........
Yup, I regained my awareness and consciousness back. At this state of mind, I suddenly remember what Mbak Enny said earlier. “Yes, we are trying to help marginalized people, indigenous people. However, do they think and regard themselves as the marginalized ones? Indigenous ones? Sometimes they think that they don't need any help then. Or worse, they know that they are ones, and they just enjoy their comfort zones, their status as the indigenous, as well as their privileges. Thus, they will blind themselves, reject every help offering! This is a dilemma!”
Hmmm, so, do I need to stay away from them? I care for them, and do what I can from my position. Remember, YOUNG LADY! I've been in that organization even when you were still in your f***ing crib!
Therefore, being treated like this, I still strongly believe that my taking leave from the church temporarily is not a bad thing. I could still talk to GOD through my personal prayer, through my daily activity and routines. Javanese people said “Gusti menika mboten sare!” (God never sleeps, dude!)
PS : Sorry I had to bring this personal matter to the public place, but I think YOU DESERVE TO BE MENTIONED HERE, FE!
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