SITTING ALWAYS on the back bench. Since the fifth grade up to sixth grade now, my eyes never see him in the front. Either because the homeroom has been arranged or indeed he does not like that position.
Her name is Indah Kinanti. Beautiful greeting. A fifth grade girl at my service school. Although Beautiful is the name, but not as beautiful as the teacher's assessment of him. He became a byword at school. At the first meeting with the teacher council, they told me that the straight-haired boy often made "noise" in class. This is because the endless act of talking. There were just questions he asked. Some teachers feel less comfortable with their behavior. They said it was obscene, impolite and disrupted the learning process.
Tuesday, my first day outlined lessons in his class. And that means today is my first day to meet Indah. My opportunity to witness what his chatter has succeeded in disturbing the teacher's calm gives lessons.

The first seventeen minutes. Class is still safe, there is no sign of noise. I'm relieved. My mind said that conditions were fine. Material presentation is over. Nothing strange in class I think.
I traced the school terrace to the students who started arriving. A warm and passionate smile was reflected in the expression on the face of this nation's generation. This morning I returned to teach classes in his class. A warm welcome greeted my presence in Indah class.
"How are Indonesian children ?!" My greeting swept the faces of all students.
"Smart, cheerful and confident ..." Reply them according to the answer I want. These yells with the Chibi-chibi-style movements I introduced at the initial meeting. I look beautiful with its cheerfulness. His mouth was talking like he wanted to say something.
"Sir, what is the law of eating snails? Haram, makruh or mubah? I saw my friend eat it yesterday "Starting his mouth spraying questions. Aih ... questions outside of the material I want to give. I haven't received another question yet.
"Sir, we don't study mathematics, right? I don't like numbers ... "His mouth blew. My smile is amused. Who will describe mathematics this morning?
"No ... we will study Batuan and Bumi" I replied preparing to write down the science teaching material on the board.
"Sir, where's the house? How come you become a teacher? "Ouch, how come this mouth boils down? Though new introductions last week. Is it beautiful to forget? My comfort began to be disturbed. "Yeah ... when is the learning!" I heard Indah's friends began to complain.
With a simple explanation, I can tell you beautiful. Until the end of the lesson, there were many questions outside the context that were proposed by Indah, which were considered by other teachers. Enjoy it even though my teaching material is not delivered smoothly.
Almost every day like that. Beautiful with the advantages of "Oceans" he has. Watching his mouth continue to froth with words made my mind analyze that he was intelligent in the field of linguistics. Intelligence with skills in hearing, words and speaking. It turned out to be true, he was superior in the field of coral-composing. Every time I was told to come to the front of the class, he did not hesitate to do it. Tell stories and tell what he wrote on his paper. Especially when I told you that every writing that was written would be displayed in school mading, the more enthusiasm Indah wrote.
Behind the excess there must be shortcomings. The advantages that someone has can be a drawback at once. Likewise with the excess of "Oceans" that Indah has at the same time becomes her lack. One time, his chatter became tempest at school. Indah fights with her younger class. The story is like this, when it was a school break. I and the teacher council were talking and talking in the teacher's office. While the discussion is cool, the eardrum vibrates to catch the sound of crying. With several teachers, I rushed to the origin of crying. I found Hena sobbing on the school terrace. After being investigated, it turned out that Hena did not accept Indah's words calling her a stupid child and similar words. The length of the war of the mouth, Indah hit Hena with a broom until the second grade boy sobbed. Perhaps this is what the teachers mean, which makes them uncomfortable with Indah's existence. Until one day the babble of Beautiful is not greeting me.

MATAHARI SERASA burns the earth. Dry and cracked land is created everywhere. The grass that used to be green turns dry yellow. The water no longer floods the well. It has evaporated in the heat of the day. Rubber leaves and coffee growing around my devotion school began to fall one by one in the wind. The dry season will accompany Ramadan this time.
Already the third day of this Ramadan Beautiful babbling no longer echoes. He seemed to be alone, away from his friends and kept silent and locked up. I feel something is missing. Usually I was presented with his babbling every day. But now, his chatter stopped stopping at my ears. There are no more out of context questions every time I describe teaching material in its class. Complaints from his friends began to recede. Is it because now he is in the sixth grade and feels he must change, reduce his chatter as his homeroom teacher reminded him at the beginning of the new school year yesterday? Or maybe he got angry with his parents?
One time, I approached him to ask if it was what made him behave like now. This silence has made his learning motivation begin to decline in recent days. And I witnessed it. He was reluctant to tell when asked to appear in front of the class. The steps are limp. Unusual. When asked to answer in silence. Kutanya Sri, her playmate. Not giving a satisfying answer.
That afternoon Beautiful, Sri and several of his classmates took computer lessons that I taught in the school office. Even though his friends crowded the room. Beautiful remains silent. Intends to lure Beautiful sounds. I try to practice the strategy "Asking through friend intermediaries". I think this method is quite effective.
"Sri ... What is his mother working for?" Opening question for Sri.
"Farmers, sir," he answered without taking his eyes off the computer monitor.
"His father's work?" Sri was silent in silence, suddenly stopping her fingers from playing the keyboard. He bowed his head. After I asked him what he was doing until he fell silent, I knew that his father Sri had left his mother and himself. That made him sad. Get your eyes on Beautiful who is also shocked immediately. There was something he wanted to say. But no power. It seems that the method I use has shown results. I asked him about his family. Responded without stumbling blocks. Until the question to dad. He was silent like Sri. Clear grains flowed down his cheeks. I feel guilty. But verbally began to tell, answering my question. And start the story.
"That afternoon the father just returned from grandma's house. I saw father from the window. He smiled as he walked towards the warehouse to put the motorbike he was wearing to Grandma's house. I again helped Mother in the kitchen to prepare food to break the fast of Maghrib later. Five minutes before breaking the fast, my mother asked me. I say you haven't entered the house, it seems like you are still in the warehouse. Then Mother told me to call the father to break the fast. Immediately fulfill the command mak. Half ran down the stairs of the stage house made by the father. I entered a warehouse that didn't have lights. I call, sir. There is no sound. I saw that your motorbike was standing in a corner of the warehouse. I approached, and I found the father lying beside his motorbike. "Indah sighed deeply and continued the story.
"I scream hysterically. Hearing my shout came. I and I carried the father moaning in pain from the warehouse. When I arrived outside the warehouse, I saw my father's left leg bruised blue. Mak shouted for help. The neighbors came to us. The people carried the father in the middle of the dawn of the maghrib call to prayer. I don't understand what happened to you. "Beautifully silenced rubbing the teardrop that gave birth to the river. While his friends who were busy in front of a computer screen, now listen to the beautiful story. The office room is quiet for a moment.
"In the evening, my father was taken to the city. My sister and I also participated. I heard the car still crying in the car. I'm just silent confused. You heard you say to you to look after your sister and myself well. On the way to the city, you don't breathe anymore. Mak cried in earnest. I cried "Beautiful sobbing. He continued the story with a halt. I'm full.
"The next day you are buried. Mak says that your left foot is bitten by a poisonous snake. I was startled by the shock that when I found the father lying beside his motorbike I saw an animal coming out through the gap in the barn wall made of bamboo. Now, I don't have a father anymore. I must help mother too. It's been a place to depend on my life. ”Beautifully sobbing. He leaned his head on Sri's shoulder which had already spilled his tears first. Everyone in the class is silent without sound. Only the hum of the computer that mourns.
"And that happened in the month of Ramadan, sir ..." he said. "Every time before breaking the fast this month the shadow of the event always revolves around my head. I miss you "
I choked. Now I understand that. The loss of babbling Indah recently has been caused by the grief that befell his father. I'm sorry. I should be sensitive to the feelings of Beautiful who suddenly change, stay and be alone. Yes, as a teacher I should be sensitive to the feelings of my students.