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4 Ikhlas

Ilham Shah:

Our meeting in class started like this, "My name is Muhammad Naim bin Mohd Bashir."

"Come again?" I drooped my eyes. I’ve known his name since I knew his sisters, and I’m pretty sure it’s nowhere near Naim.

"Teacher, he’s lying!" Came from all directions in the class. The real Naim was chuckling on his seat.

Ilham smirked.

Ilham is brilliant, no doubt, and the obvious problem with brilliant kids are them being pure show-offs.

Me included. Ah.

If he’s not writing or talking or playing Baby Crystal, Ilham Shah could be caught singing. Heck, he even sang while doing anything!

I didn’t really mind the throaty voice as long as he gets the work done.

Abruptly, he stopped mid-singing and addressed me sitting across him, marking Naim’s writing. "Teacher, do you know the meaning of inconsolable?"

"Hmm?" I looked up. "How does the spelling goes?"

"I-N-C-O-S-O-B-L-E."

"Really?" I put on my thinking cap. "Sorry, never heard of it."

"You didn’t know?" He smirked. Imagine a devil’s smirk. Or just imagine me smirking. "It means tidak boleh dipujuk."

"Oh." I eyed the smirk carefully.

"Ha, ha." Came the cheerful sing-song tone. "Teacher didn’t know~"

I resumed marking.

A few days later, he sang the same song (Inconsolable by BSB) when I finally figured out what he asked me a few days back.

"Ilham!" I piped out. "You were asking me the meaning of inconsolable!"

"Yeah." He smirked.

"You misspelled it!"

"I did."

"On purpose!" I half-frowned in disbelief. "I can’t believe you did that!"

"I just wanted to know whether you know the meaning or not." And he smirked. And Naim laughed.

Man.

Ironically, that kid is the class monitor. Not that I’m doubting his credibility, no. I’m merely pointing out his mischievousness.

p/s: In our class, I once used my own name [Teacher Atiqah] for one of the examples during our grammar learning. Ilham here cleverly alter it into Sister Atiqah.

-____-”

Muhammad Naim:

In class, he’s as mischievous as Ilham. The two of them kept calling me kakak since the small gap in our age differences.

I never give them the green light. "In the school compound, call me teacher or muallimah. If you still keen with the sister nickname, do so if we meet at Pak Mud’s stall or something, okay?"

And Naim went, "Ka-!"

I glared.

"Eh," he grinned defensively. "I haven’t said the other k yet."

Kids.

Maybe I haven’t mention this before, but the first thing I notice about people is their smile.

And Naim has one sweet smile.

And he’s friendly, really. Not a meeting has passed that he didn’t greet me in way or another.

I met him when his father dropped him and his lil bro Marwan off. He smiled and started to run away when I made to pass him the heavy books I were carrying.

I walked by his class and he called out for me. Since I no longer teach his class [Muallimah Rahmah found a new English teacher to make way for me and my JPA affair], he kept asking the same thing, "Won’t you teach us anymore, teacher?"

This evening, I was six meters away when a young boy greeted me from behind the grills of the library door. His face was partially hidden but I recognize that smile anywhere.

"Teacher!" He called out, two fingers out from his knuckle. "Peace!"

I peaced him back.

What happened to the good old "Assalamualaikum"?

Fifteen minutes after school ended and I was sitting under the shade, sipping yogurt drink peacefully.

"Teacher!" Came the cheery call from my left.

I turned towards that direction. Five meters away, Naim was grinning while walking across the field.

I smiled, waving my hand in a short hello.

You’ll love him when you meet him.