ISHIHARA (Blind Color-Real Story)
The Dusk City Limit 2

“What's your mind?”

There is a story in 1996, when I first got to know the education system in Indonesia,

World School. I went to SD, because in my village Kanak-Kanak Park was not popular at that time. It was from SD that the formalities of my education began.

With my small steps, I entered the large room in embarrassment. There are a lot of kids who are the same age as me in that room. We were all sitting on benches and tables that were a little bit of height to me. Table and chair

it was neatly arranged in a room facing towards the large black board that filled half the wall. Children who try to calm down

a woman who is the same age as Grandma. The woman stood in front.

That woman was our guide. The name of the woman was the Teacher's mother. Mother Master has a friendly and affectionate attitude. All children dear to

Mother Teacher. Me either.

My teacher's mother was first grade SD. He was my first teacher. He was the one who asked the first question

at me. The first question for all of us is first graders of SD.

“Smart mother's children. Now I want to know what Ananda's mind is?” Ask the teacher. Moms

the teacher always ends his sentence with a loving smile. To me, that sentence means. “ What are your ideals?”. We were all asked

giving an answer starts from a small child who sits in the front row on the left.

The first child starts to say his thoughts. At first he was afraid. But the teacher's good at persuading.

He said that the person who says his thoughts to others

is something great.

“Huuffff.” My left ear in the inflatable olerh the kid next to me.

“Cita-talks what is ?”

Ask the boy who blew my ear. He's confused. He doesn't know what a mind is.

“You after old later.” My answer. I know that even though I don't have a TK diploma. I knew

it's from Mom that the mind becomes Power

Rangers are not there. There are no Power Rangers in Indonesia.

“May answer the same with the child ?” Ask the little boy on my left again. He repeated his question perhaps out of anxiety in his turn. Then me.

I sat on the right side of the wall in the second row. The child on the left side has

saying adorable. I looked to the left to see them mention his ideals.

“Being Mother Teacher”

“So Pilot Bu”

“So Pilot Bu”

“So Pilot is also Bu”

Answer others imitate. They are not creative.

“So Polis”

I understand the Police and the Army is a respected Job during the New Order.

ABRI is as people call it.

“So Singers like Nike Ardilla” I know that name on TV that serig appeared on three TV stations in

homehouse.

Only those professions we know. No one was a hacker at the time. Internet

nobody yet.

“I want to be President”

Answer the friend on my left. Now it's my turn.

“I want to be..”.

What do I want to be?.

I lay in my small and comfortable room. Room with soft bed

which I've been sleeping with since SD. My eyes glared at the sky-sky room. On top of the loft it was like hanging stars. And on the star was a shadow of me later. After adulthood with all kinds of clothes. Uniforms that reflect the profession.

What do I want to be?

I'm rattled. I remember the SD children overcoming their confusion, namely by

write the options on paper pieces. Then throw it up simultaneously. Then fall. The papers were pushed back by the wind until they fell on the floor. Paper that falls with writing on it

that's what was chosen. And the paper with the writing down is not an option. I did too, I imitated the child-a ank SD. I wrote the pieces

paper cut with a variety of professions that I know. I write nurses, police, soldiers, pilots, teachers, lecturers, Bank employees, PNS, doctors, businessmen, etc,

farmers, fishermen, traders, writers, news readers, politicians, and so on, except Power Rangers. I know that Power Rangers don't exist.

My paper scatters high into the room sky. The paper was turned back and forth by the wind. Down by

the gravitational force of the earth. Race against time. My heart was pounding curiously until all the papers were lying on the floor of the room.

I saw the shadow of the paper that was covered. Then I saw a paper

supine. I read the writing on the bottom of the paper. It contains “ Doctor”.

I'mawakened. No papers scattered in my room. I was just dreaming. And I remember

dreams that have just been natural accounts. One word I remember. The doctor.

What does all this mean.

Should be the street doctor I choose.

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