SIGHT SCRIPT SOON !  

Literacy memoirs

Have you ever heard about literacy memoirs ?

Yeah,  If you haven�t know yet  let me tell you a bit about literacy memoirs . Literacy memoirs was becoming  the english project  for 10 graders of  SMAN Sumsel  ( Sampoerna Academy)  this project push us to write some story , we can tell about our story , experience , or even our sacrifice , detail and personally that can be as a motivated story for others to reach the succes, Deeper , this literacy declared  to making  know the way to reach the glory.

This is the example of literacy memoirs , eventuality can be as useful  lesson .

The three(s) to remember�

An English Literacy Memoir by Kasim Bahri, B

 

Wife                : �I just can�t trust you...!�

Husband         : �That was not true honey, you just don�t understand!�

Wife                : �No, I don�t care! This is just enough! I can�t stand it anymore!�

 

I�m not going to tell you the whole series of this quarrel episode. This was just a quarrel I heard sometime in the past, flashing me out to my very bottom world of moment when I found myself inspired with English. Being glared upon this such conversation, you might be wondering how this could introduce me to the world of English.

It was when I was at the third grade of my primary school that I saw two people, (husband and wife, I supposed), got into a quarrel. They seemed to be in  a plethora of conflicts, no access to be solved and resolved, no way out, and clashes hung up to a dead-end. Yet it is not about the quarrel I am talking here, it is how I got inspired by the language they use to quarrel each other. I thought it was just cool, chilly and fresh to quarrel (not something I dream, though) using that language; cas-cis-cus, an English; of what most people in the world brings into play. It was probably the start, the beginning of my experience of English, the first consignment of God�s enlightenment upon my dimmed brained skill and knowledge of language literacy, the moment where I declared a pleasure toward a subject, an-even-not-a-minute memory loss keenness, I have to say. I just wanted to say words in English!!!

The one: the Likes and the Dislikes

A howling sound hustled to close my bed room�s windows, whistling wind was too strong that it was difficult for me to curtain them neatly. It was nearly a midnight; the hour hand tapped almost the 11 while the minute fiddled between the 9; it was about 22.45. I couldn�t close my eyes, it was just rare for me to snap shut the barricades of eyelash; something most of my friends said they can do. I notice the time of night, the owl was even sleepier than me and yet I just couldn�t make my ensconce.  The rumor of my parents� dislike on my profound liking toward English was so blatant for my sleeping session. I couldn�t stop thinking about it, foreseeing the possible happenings that I wouldn�t be standing in front of many people sharing my words and ideas, followed by claps. I wouldn�t. 

My teacher was just one another wall. He was not one, my favorite teacher (I wouldn�t see Prof Chuzai wants to know his name, though). He didn�t show me that he was even interested at English, I mean he was (to my full respect) just not into English. He, once said, �English is not a bridge to see the world, it is just a matter of the job he holds at the time, no more, no less� and I don�t want to talk about him to any more extend. I put my all respect to him. It was just a question blasted out, if these dislikes were all true, if yes I had to quit, if my teacher were right, if I just couldn�t make this dream came true and if these all onlys were not onlys.

Now, I should continue my night! The owl �now�, started closing his eyes (it was found out that it�s a he, his name is Jimmie, J), trying to forget this long night, he hunted nothing tonight, red ant eggs were not in shop, sold out for some flock of finch parading this morning. It was sort of difficult to find this bird�s morsel today. The staple was in high cost and so was this bird�s food. I still couldn�t close my eyes. The fact that my parents were not so enthusiastic about my �decision� to live with English put me in a big doubt. I was still a kid, I just couldn�t think why they didn�t like the idea, I mean it�s good to speak in English, it�s good if I could introduce my parents to their friends using English, weren�t they proud if I could do so?!! I couldn�t get the answer that night and I let this worry lie down with my dream. It�s not going to be a very long night, literally! It�s now 02.00 o� clock.

It was my father, standing in front of the opened door (I forgot to close it last night), woke me up from bed. He greeted �good morning� and questioned me �are you serious?�. I knew that this was about my English, yet sometime I even couldn�t understand why this English was something so serious for my parents (I mean I was so serious about this, but I was just a little kid). I didn�t even graduate from primary school yet. It�s in May, next year.

The conversation was kind of mundane, and I knew this would end-up with a long-decisive-stipulated voice, �Give up your dream!� My father is a man of respect. Although we are not from a wealthy family, we (brothers, sisters and I) always respect our father unconditionally.  It�s not because my father is kind of high-tempered, it�s just because he�s so respectful. He rarely talked to his children, and yet his words should be assumed as a mandate. At the time being, he was ready to response to any words I would say and I knew it would happen. So I didn�t say anything, I�d better prepare myself to bury it down my heart, being realistic that this was an undeniable mandate, the unwritten acts I couldn�t even try to amend.

The fact that there were too many rejections I should face brought me into a dilemma. Walking to school was something mountainous. There were no more cheers, smiles, practical jokes with friends when walking down the street. The paving-stone sideway seemed miles-away, the palms didn�t move; strong wind was so much motionless, and even, the quarreling husband and wife were not as fierce as before.

Kids were just kids. It�s only a week for me to forget all the miseries. Playing marbles, ukulele, or even children cards were more than enough for this little kid to elude, even all the passions. I was not into English anymore; I didn�t care with the lesson (added by the fact of my teacher�s way of teaching) to any more minutes. To me, this was all the same, all the subjects were the same. I couldn�t say I liked Math or Science but also I couldn�t say that I liked English better than others. As a matter of fact, these passion and keenness I had a few weeks ago were gone with the wind, like a novel by Margaret Mitchell.

�Kids� equals Kids

To remember, to forget

To remind, to violate

To call and recall

To think not, to play yes

To care not always, to unaware often

Days equal seconds, weeks equal minutes, months not even possessed.

I am a child, no more�

(Kasim Bahri, B)

 

The Two: from Failure to Success?

The title should give the readers a glimpse of what I am going to share. I would face some failure in my life and yet still I ask if what I got was a success.

My junior and high school experience was not so much different with others. I would say that I was so grateful because I could pass the National Examinations. The fact that I should walk barefooted to school almost every day to my junior high school was just a little flavor in my chicken soup and I wouldn�t tell you more about this.

There was one important thing revealed, answering the question why my parents didn�t like the idea of me being fond of English. It was, at last, cracking the egg, a metaphor of the albumin to a tiny chick, revealing the secret of the secret. I know it�s kind of overrated, J! Sorry!

So, my parents said it was not that they hated English to death. They didn�t hate English that much. The fact that a child of my parents� friend left away for London was the cause. They didn�t want me to leave Indonesia!!! This was a sad fact and yet touchy to know that they didn�t abhor my dream. However, I couldn�t say that English was my dream too. I mean, I forgot it already and I just wanted to be realistic that going to University was just a dream-never-come-true for me. My father was just a driver while my mother was so passionate about cleaning house, taking care of children and no more ambition due to being rather impossible to work at office as a secretary. I should understand this all situation, not to force something beyond the charm of my parents. To my parents, whom I promise I would respect for the whole of my life, going to University would end up with an excessive spent of money with no result. The graduates should still look for a job to feed themselves and at most of the time, the money talks more than your skill. Such a thinking which I couldn�t agree more!

It was May, and all high school graduates were busy preparing their entrance test to a University. I passed the National Examination but there was no enough indication that I would do the same thing most of friends did at that time. The truth that my father was retired drew me to bottom of hopelessness. Notwithstanding going to University was not very favorable for me, that was just unfair to let a high-school graduate to even have no a picture about University. And yet, I questioned myself �what can I do?�.

 

This was almost end of May when a friend of my parents coming to my house to let them know about STAN (Sekolah Tinggi Akuntansi Negara). Pak Imron was his name. He had his first son studying at STAN and wanted to send the second one to the same school. STAN is a tertiary-level high school which offers free education to its students. Another benefit from the school is the fact that it guarantees its students to automatically get a job after graduated from the school. Job, a keyword for my parents! J.

This news changed everything. My parents rushed to buy me some books to prepare myself to the school. They were �Siap Menghadapi STAN�, �Sukses STAN�, �STAN 2003, Siapa Takut?� of which I even didn�t have any clue how my parents could afford to buy them. As a matter of fact, this was kind of unusual. I was growing in a very self-autonomous family where my parents rarely concerned on what school I should go to. They cared with my scores, they cared with my achievement but not the choices of school I must attend.

Days were spent in bedroom, laying down on bed, and going out only for the reasons of basic needs; eat, drink and pray to which it reminds me to a novel by Elizabeth Gilberth, Eat, Pray and Love. My basic need didn�t involve the idea of �love� yet for I had my first love in college (upps..I am telling you a secret! J). This was not the time, I said to myself! The test itself would be conducted on the 1st week of June and it�s just one book I finished reading, or at least opening each of the pages. I knew that I didn�t have enough time to finish the rest 2 books with this speed. So, I worked overnight, without pay!

It was five days before my departure to Jakarta that I found out there were some other friends of mine who wanted to go for the test too. It was good because I wouldn�t feel my first alone-voyage experience. At least, if I got lost, I would get lost with my friends. So, they were seven of us going to Jakarta for the test. There was just a little promise we made before the leaving; there must be at least one of us passed the test and became the student of STAN! A promise which at the latter lines is revealed!

We all did the test a day after we arrived in Jakarta. Having not enough rest, we were all in one line that tiredness influenced the focus.  But it was a fight, and a fight requires no excuse! The test itself lasted only for one day, literally a full day and the night following was just a hang-out trip with, of course, a whatsoever effort not to spend any rest coins we had.

It�s Monday, the next day we sailed back to Lampung. It�s to be believed that every one expected the victory over the war although none of us had enough confidence to utter it. We spent about 10 hours but the trip itself was not as exciting as the other trip. I guessed everyone agreed that we were so much exhausted to death so waiting in such solemn would be the better-best idea. It�s 5 o�clock in the afternoon and I just got into my room and took a long sleep. 

It is difficult to let the readers know this part but I have to tell you for I have to finish this story. J. Two week after the test, the result announcement was due. I found out that there was one of us passed the test but there was not my name on the list. It was Lucius and he was indeed such a brilliant. My parents were so upset about this and didn�t say anything to me. I knew they were so sad about this but I just couldn�t do anything about it too. This was one, the most difficult time in my life.

The Three: the Best is Yet to Be

It�s three weeks after the test that I realized I needed to do something about this. I couldn�t just let this thing going and do no nothing. I let my parents know that I wanted to go to a college, at least to a diploma. I told them that I wanted to try STAN another time next year and it was a good idea to try improving my English through a diploma/course. Although I noticed a fear in my parents� eyes, that it would be difficult for both of them to pay the tuition, their little smiles motivate me to prove the best for them. I should actually call them right now and say thanks, hehe.

A friend of mine, Ridho, introduced me to an English Diploma Course namely Teknokrat. I didn�t see I shouldn�t try this. Besides, taking English would be a good choice because it was one of the subjects tested on STAN. I would say to myself that it could be also a good decision to recall my buried-out of sight-passion of English, a subject once I loved to death. I let my parents know about this and they agreed. I didn�t need to let the readers know if I, myself was confused how they could get the money. There was a simple message my Mom said to me; don�t let us down!

So, it�s almost a year I spent my time in the college. I was just about to register myself to STAN again that a lecture said I would have an opportunity to be a lecturer assistant if I would continue my study to bachelor degree. Well, I should say that I had a big change during the study. Most of my friends said I improved my confidence to speak English. I still remembered the first time I came to a speaking class, I came up in front of the class and did some presentation. There was even none of my friends put up my performance. I was always shaking, trembling and I am talking with a literal purpose. My hands were always wet by sweat. I even, would not be confident to say that now I could handle this, I mean I still notice that sometimes, I would have my hands wet by sweat when nervous. A doctor, when I was still a child told me I had a symptom of heart problem. Well, I didn�t really want to talk about this.

Knowing this offer from my lecture, I rushed home to talk to my Mom. It was wonderful for she was more than happy to hear about it except for the cost of the study. She said that she would give me a motor bike to ride to the college with one condition, I must find my own way to fuel it. Yet, what was more important for me was that my parents allowed me to go to this college. That was enough although my Mom also believed that going to STAN or to a College would have aimed for the same word, working; a job. Ah, that�s my Mom and I love her much, as always. J. So I got transferred to a bachelor program.

Life will always find its way. It�s just two months after I got to this bachelor degree that I saw my name on the list of campus� scholars. This scholarship was given in the form of a free tuition in a semester basis which meant the students who got the scholarship would be updated every semester. I would say that I am happy to let the readers know that God allowed me to study free of charge because of the scholarship.  Although my study time was not easy; the fact that I was not trained to be a public speaker during my high school time leading to a shaking-trembling body gesture and sweaty wet-hands, the fact that I should fuel my own bike riding me to do some part-time job; a course teacher, pempek and dogan seller, both a motivation not to let my parents down and my hidden-postponed desire upon English prompted me to do the best in my study and it was worth for one, a very fabulous achievement, the Best Graduate. Thanks to everyone.

All and all, I am now an English teacher. I would always remember the way I got to be this. I should also say that if only I passed the STAN test, I would possibly not be like the way I am now. I would not also say that I would end my journey of this English exploration. Last year was just one another wonderful experience I could have. I flight to Australia for a program called �BRIDGE� with the other 33 teachers from all over Indonesia. I believe that was just a start and hope that this will lead me to a good end in life. I would always dream to be an English Education Consultant some day and I wish all prayer from the readers as I wish you all the best too. Thanks, again