Crush On You's
Mika's Success
On a sunny April, the first time I taught at the residence of Mr. Surya. I arrived at eight o'clock in the morning, the woman who yesterday opened the door for me. Now he shows me my place of work. Room with enough sunlight. Some bookshelves. Large rectangular table. Both students sat at the table. The tall woman stood in the corner of the room. He nodded politely. At first glance his face looks like Bu Laras although not the whole, only his cheeks are slightly filled.
“Sugeng rawuh Pak Pur,” her sweep walked and shook my hand.
The woman next to me spoke, “Niki Bu Andini, gwanipun Pak Surya”
“Monggo pinarak..” says Bu Andini is friendly.
With a little polite nod,“Excellent mature nuwun bu.”
Javanese ethics like this is very necessary in association with older people or people who have high degrees. Andhap asor and luwes. Ajining self soko lathi means valuable or not ourselves it comes from our tongue (pronunciation). Some things my mom taught me since I was a kid, and it turned out to be really useful.
I knew before my arrival teaching here, there were already two people who resigned because they could not stand the behavior of the two Caucasian teenagers who were in front of me now. They are Kevin and Andrew.
That's why I won't be with them. Whether they were impressed or not at the first meeting. They must be disciplined, obedient and polite. Don't expect to mess with me.
I read their biography last night. From Mr. Surya's notebook. Two fifteen year old men. Spoiled and unruly. Not wanting to bother myself too much at the first meeting, I had them read some Indonesian texts. At first they read very slowly. My ears only caught a slight buzzing sound.
“Open page 36 paragraphs 3. Read loudly”
No one is ignoring. The two of them were still shaking as if I wasn't there.
“Kevin..please read loudly!” my orders are a little harsh.
“Reading? Oh no, that is not interesting.” His complaint. Both of them complained as if reading was the hardest thing for them. Moreover, I caught their expressions of indifference.
They think my attitude is gentle. Judgments based on my appearance. They're wrong big time. Precisely I can become ferocious if they dare to resist or disobey orders. I deliberately whispered something of a threat to both of them, yes a little story that I created myself to trick them. And it finally worked. Today's lesson went well. Small difficulties have been resolved. I told them to read because I wanted to know how they pronounce Indonesian. Their voices, like a lisp or a cedal. Difficulty if meet the letters “R.”
At 11:30 pm that means class is over. My steps slowly went down the stairs. I saw Ms. Andini and a waiter sitting in the TV room. The woman offered lunch.
“Sorry mom. Next time only. I have to get to campus”
“Wait a minute,” the door. “Let me pack”
“Not bother bu.”
“Ndak. I was cooking satay, continued Mr. Surya call if he was out of town,”ujar Bu Andini. “So some of them have also been delivered to the cost Laras”
“Thank you.” I took the package and got out. Wait, ‘What Laras stay in this area too?’ my question is in my heart. A little curious, didn't mean anything. I hung it on the steering wheel of a motorcycle.
The motor stops near the red light. Suddenly my stomach was wrapped. And the view is a little blurry. The phone in the pants pocket is vibrating. I stopped my bike and immediately grabbed the phone in my pocket. Notification of the meeting of staff and lecturers on campus at 12:30 p.m.
Looks like the lunch has to be delayed. Since this morning I have not eaten or drunk. I'm going to gas faster. But it's no use, the road is jammed. Along with the High School children go home from school.
The motor slowly enters the parking lot. My feet quickly walked towards the second floor stairs. As I climbed the stairs I passed a few classes. Many students were sitting in front of the class. Some are chatting, busy with cell phones, and reading books. The class starts at two in the afternoon. My steps stopped at the open door of the language lab.
“I don't accept any reason. You're late to collect errands”
“Sorry, Yesterday I waited. But Madam did not come to campus”
“Born I have a seminar. Why don't you collect Monday with the others?”
“Monday I didn't sign because of sick”
“Reason” snapped Bu Laras. “You know the Discourse Analysis course is important. So don't mess around.”
“Iya sorry Madam”
Stunned to see his face when angry. The more interesting to watch. His eyes widened and his breathing went up and down. Signs of his emotions burning. But the atmosphere was tense between Laras and the student. It seems to need to be liquid. I'm throttling. “Good Afternoon” my hand knocked on the door.
“Come in” replied Bu Baras slowly.
I approached and whispered, “Did you fall from heaven?”
“No, I am red rose from hell”
“Oh well, I guess that explores why you're so hot.”
The red hue on Bu Laras' cheek is perfectly framed.
I nodded and smiled. Like a butterfly flying in my stomach. Ms. Laras came out of the language lab with a blushing and beaming face. I wrote the student lyrics. He lowered his head in laughter hearing the conversation just now.
“Thank you sir, Thank you so much.” he said gave his duty to me.
I haven't noticed how the student's face is. Because he just looked down without looking at me or looking up. I just wanted to help him that's all. Se remembered me he had long wavy hair. And since at the language lab, all my attention has been on Bu Laras.
This game is very interesting. I purposely seemed to bend my knees to his charm. In fact, I just gobbled up her pretty face. Bu Laras belongs to Bayu, I have no right or opportunity in any angle. Her beautiful eyes sparkle when she sees me. And at that moment I forced him to drown in my eyes. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't. Because of Bu Laras' clever temperament.
‘I've learned a lot’ I whispered in my heart. The complete face of Bu Laras is indeed a hunt for the painter or even the author to perpetuate in any form. And for me personally, I want to know the depth of his character.
***
The next day, a gray cloud was accompanied by strong winds. Not rain. Dry leaves with flying dust. It disturbs the motorcyclists on the road. Not to mention a lot of fallen trees, for a while some paths were diverted. My long needle lyrics are almost right in the middle of the number twelve. And a little needle in the number two. It's not too late, I got off the motorcycle. And I'm in fourth semester class.
I'll get a black marker. And start writing on the board. Some patterns and I explain some differences pronoun, noun, …. Sometimes I remind you. They are afraid to forget the word group and its users.
“Any question”
They don't budge. Some of them looked confused, but tried not to ask. Strenuously trying to do it yourself. Since it was already the fourth semester, they were not spoiled or face-sweet. The teaching process has no barriers.
Wh-tok! The sound of the door being knocked. “Excuse Me, sorry I'm late.
The girl was embarrassed by the door. Not move. Not looking at me either. Her hair was tied back. The clothes were simple, a shabby sling bag and dull white shoes. Depressing. The poor appearance.
I told him to come in.
He entered with his head bowed and sat on the very back bench. His hand pulled out a few books.
From a distance I still watch him. I think I've seen it. But where? I don't know, his face is not foreign. My hands reached for absence, all full with presence signatures, except for one empty. ‘Well, this must be his name’ muttered me in the heart.
“Have you finish?”
“Finish sir!” replied a man in blue. And sit right behind the late girl. The others are busy working.
I walked over to one of the students who had already completed the task. After checking his duties, I asked. “What's your name?”
“My name is Iskan”
“Good job” revealed me after giving him a grade. Both of my eyes were still focused on the girl behind him. Trying to remember the girl. Damnit damnit! I really don't remember. I leaned my body against the wall. Standing not far from him. Let's write English by George E. Wishon was on his desk.
My hand pointed at the book. “ can you OpenPage 33 please?”
He nodded and opened page 33. All the training questions were filled. There was no sound or look from him.
“Can you answer the question on Whiteboard?”
“Yes sir,” answers slowly.
“Well, after you answer. I want you explain to your friends in front of class.”
The girl looked at me scared. Followed by hesitating. Then he finished the matter on the board. He also describes the pattern of sentence. Full English's. He also answered questions from some of his friends. The originally quiet atmosphere of the classroom became warm.
I was stunned to see his flexibility when teaching. Calm and patient. The parasites are ordinary. Not beautiful or attractive. It's innocent and innocent. Even the acne scars on her cheeks were still visible. The crane!!! Bell's voice, it makes me flinch. Some students have already left. It's just me and the girl. “Wow. Thank you” I said walking towards him. “What is your name?”
“Asmarani Bening” answers bowed shy. And take a few steps back.
“What have we ever met before?”manya curious.
“Iya”
“Where?”
“In the language lab, a few days ago”
I exhaled a calm breath. She is a student who is with Bu Laras. Yeah, no more wrong. His temper was timid, fearful and polite.
Bend your head to someone higher, keep your distance and speak softly. Really makes me a cramp. This girl is growing into a grown woman. His manners have been reflected. Not from the face, but from the action.
Among the beautiful flowers. There are flowers that are trying to bloom slowly. The flowers are not very attractive in color. But I dare to assume that the stalk is strong. And the shins don't fall easily. When many students maintain self-existence in appearance and association. It looks like he has a little friend.
Actually I want to give him a punishment. Due to the delay in class. I intentionally ponder, the reason is the first pity to see his appearance. And secondly, I was quite impressed with him, the way he apologized was really resigned and sincere. It doesn't matter if it's intentional or because of circumstances.