A little surprise, a little reunion

I woke up with a phone call this morning. From my mom. The message was more important. Nana was coming to my house in five minutes!

For those of you who are a constant blogwalker, you may have come across her blog. She has become quite a celebrity among Indonesian bloggers. With her wittiness in her postings, she has tackled some interesting and debatable issues in her blog and offered an interesting perspective to those issues.

But, Nana for me is not just a blogging fellow. In fact, blogging came along just recently into our friendship. I’ve known her for about 15 years, ever since we formed a circle of very jolly, smart, unique bestfriends in our second year of senior highschool in Salatiga. In fact, if we trace back, we probably have known each other since we were in junior highschool for we went to the same school back then. Nana and I even went further to the same department in college. The circle of bestfriends: me, Nana, Lolita, Lily and Tyas, were practically sisters. We always felt comfortable in each other’s house and we knew each and every member of each other’s family. No wonder she could just came very early in the morning (about 6 AM this morning) to my parents’ place and they welcomed her warmly because practically she was present in most of my teenager life.

So, of course, we exchanged stories, shared the happenings in our lives, gossiped about the whereabouts of the other members of the gang and our acquintances. It was just like the old times, when we could just talk for hours. It felt so good to be with her, who knew me since the very beginning. In the afternoon, we decided to go to Ada Baru supermarket, where Lolita, the other gang member, works. We haven’t seen each other for a very long time, ever since Lolita graduated from college (that must have been seven years ago!!!). And of course, we shared even more stories, pastime naughtiness that we did in senior highschool. And we kept laughing, and laughing, remembering how silly and carefree we were back then.

My point is no matter how silly and carefree we were, that was probably one of the best chapters of my life. With two of my very bestfriends, I cherish those times and I thank God for giving me the chance to relive those moments again.

Thank you, Nana and Lolita. I’m looking forward to seeing you guys again!

Seasonal Change

Rainy days come with doubt
will life be colorful and sunny
like in the good old days?

I sense the gloom of Fall
that I miss so dearly
not as a bitter memory
but as a dream once I lived in.

But this is a distinct season
whose gloom I hate to feel
and I don’t invite
but it creeps back to enlive.

Life goes on.
Seasons change.
Perhaps the feeling is temporary
until I see the beauty of the drizzling water
and my soul has made peace with dreams.

Rainy days…

Salatiga has always been known as a cooler place. I remember putting on blanket even during my naptime in the afternoon. But that was years ago, at least until I was in highschool. Salatiga has become hotter and hotter, after all the huge trees that used to decorate the streets of Salatiga were being cut down for the sake of “development”.

So, when rain finally came, it was such a huge relief for me. The air became so fresh, clean and refreshing. The good old days seem to come back to me: cool weather, afternoon strolls, good snacks along the streets of my hometown. It’s true that I’m not so much into rain, because I dislike the gloomy feeling that is created by the dark clouds. But I can’t help welcoming the freshness of the rain that makes Salatiga’s hot weather is bearable.

I just hope that my friends out there, who often wonder how Salatiga looks like these days, can come and see it during rainy season, for the sake of the good old days…

Writing an "8"

I never consider writing a number 8 to be troublesome and difficult, until I accompanied my son, Jalu, while he was doing his homework. You see, Jalu, who will be 5 years old in November, is attending a kindergarten. One of his homework that he had to do is to learn to write numbers. His teacher will write the number on his homework book, for instance, five 6s, one in each line. At home, Jalu will copy the number over and over.

Of course, he has his directions from his teacher of how he has to move his pencil across the box to create the numbers, like, for number 1 is “stand”, number 2 is “curve, cross, sleep”, number 3 is “curve, curve”, and so on. Yet, number 8 seems to be the most difficult of all. The directions requires him to know which way to make the curve (which for your info is going to the below left), which way to create the cross (which is to the upper left), and which way to make the last curve. I never realize how difficult it is and how in order to accomplish such “simple” task, someone needs to learn spatial concepts.

Another thing, he seems to need be to be reminded all the time to focus on the task on his hands. I notice that when his other classmates will just do their task independently, Jalu will absentmindedly pay attention to other things in his classroom than his task. He seems to not be able to be left alone in doing his job. This of course forces me to always be with him in class, to encourage him to finish the task. Although I really want him to be independent, it seems that with his lack of focus he needs supervision all the time.

Watching him struggling on writing the numbers (and these days the letters A, B and C) and sometimes yelling the instructions to him (and most of the time being frustrated myself) taught me two things as a teacher. First, I need to pay attention to things that I consider as easy. Just because it is easy for me and for most of the students, I can’t ignore and underestimate the simple things that I need to teach. Secondly, every student has their own pace and their own ability to grasp the knowledge. As a teacher, I have to use the most appropriate strategy for each student, because each of them is unique.