When a class cries

I am the class teacher of 4 Bijak. The class is full of rascals. They refuse to learn. They refuse to stay in class. They refuse to listen. They hardly do their work. It is the last class. A few of them are love children. A few of them are abandoned by their genetic parents. A lot of them are divorce victims. 3 of them are LINUS tegar (hardcore remedial student). It is indeed a tough class for any teacher.


Today I had a pep talk with 4 Bijak. I told them how the pupils of year 6 of 2011 couldn’t get 5As because they made a teacher felt very very angry to the extent that the teacher said “Saya doa sorang pun tak dapat A!”. Indeed, his words are granted. Nobody got A from his class. When UPSR result was announced, the teacher was no longer teaches in my school as he got a promotion to be a GPK in some other school. I told them this story, to stress, how it is important for students, to get blessings from their teachers. As knowledge is nur (light), and it will not enter a dark heart (stubborn, full of negative traits).


I told them, it is not my lost if I fail in the subject. It is their lost. It is them who will struggle with living later. But I don’t want them to struggle. My hope is, at least they can compete with foreign workers who are leeching out our country’s fund. Those foreign workers are tough cookies. They are better skilled and good at learning our language. I wonder what if one day, the working industry of Malaysia is dominated by non-native?


During the last minute, more of them cried because I told them that I love them and I do not want them to go to hell. I told them to change before they hit puberty. This is their only chance to change their learning behaviour because if they do not change now, it would be more difficult as they grow into teenagers.

Before I let them go out for recess, I asked them to salam my hand. Not just handshake or kiss my hand, but salam with a sincere hug. I whispered into their ears. Hoping they can get to the bottom of my heart. They even cry after recess. I felt guilty because their science teacher told me, one of them could not stop crying and replied nothing when the teacher asked. It is the girl whom I whispered “Kalau Sofea rasa takde orang sayang Sofea, ingat cikgu sayang pada Sofea”. She is abandoned by her parents. She is currently living with foster parents who do not care much about her. And maybe, she has never felt mother’s warmth. She promised me to write a letter.

Alhamdulillah in every sense, it is Allah who holds their fragile heart. It is Allah who had made them cry and touches their heart. I merely act as a loving teacher, who wants them to be better people. I really hope their learning view and attitude will change, as it is very hard for me to talk with a heavy heart. Am not going to do this kind of thing again. It’s heartbreaking.


I love them for the sake of Allah. I really do. I want to treat them as if they are mine. They sent me letters and one of them gave me a present. I think he doesn’t know how to write. Pity to those who are illiterate in my class. They couldn’t get anywhere if they are illiterate. I’m itching to teach them. And I want to be more than a teacher. I want to touch their heart. I found teaching is satisfying. Although teachers are treated badly in Malaysia, I still would want to be a teacher. It is not just a career, but my life.