The story that I am about to share with you happened exactly 3 years ago when I joined a tahfiz school as the Pengetua Hal Ehwal Akademik (HEA – but more likely was like the student well-fare teacher). It happened twice with two different students.

One day, a man came up to our school reception area and requested to see his son. As the other staff had not much power to give the green light, Rabbani, a colleague of mine knocked at my door, “Teacher Syarifah, ada bapak nak jumpa anak. Boleh ke?” (Teacher Syarifah, a dad comes to see his son. Can he do so?)

A little bit puzzled, I replied, “bolehlah. Why not?” (Sure, why not?)

Rabbani murmured, “ye lah, ni kan time sekolah takut teacher tak benarkan.”  (Yeah, but this is schooling hours, who knows you wouldn’t allow that).

As we talked, we walked towards the reception area. A fair lanky man around my age (or probably in his early 40s) was sitting facing our receptionist.

“Encik nak jumpa anak? Dah pergi dah?“( Have you met your son?)

“Belum. Can you call him out?” (Not yet, can you call him out?)

I did as instructed.

In front of the class, I spoke to my student first, “Amirul, ayah awak nak jumpa. Would you like to leave the class for a while?” (Amirul, your dad would like to met you. Would you leave the class for a while?) Bear in mind that this was a tahfiz school I was in, so as much as I could, I learned to respect both, the teacher and the students. Sometimes, they were in the middle of their hafazan, sometimes they would be in any more serious discussion, so to ask them to leave the class, I must say, I would like to take the students’ preference as the priority.

But the question had no reply. What I missed was the unchanged emotion in the face of my student. Instead of waiting for his reply, I entailed him to the reception. As we were approaching the father, I walked next to my student. He was hesitated to walk closer and by then the father had already stood up and reached out his hands onto the son. They were both hugging. The father’s hug was so tight and both of them remained quiet in each other’s arms. I walked backwards slowly as I watched them and sat back in my room. But I left my brain and heart to each of them.

Within a few minutes, the father and son appeared at my door. The father knocked at my door, “Thanks, teacher. Can I have your phone number,please?”

I stood from my seat. ” You can always call me from the office number. They (the teachers/ staff) will always pass me my calls,” I said. But the father insisted so, I finally gave him. He even asked for my email because he lives abroad and would like to know about his son directly from me. Again, I gave him. The conversation ended there. I sent the father to the door and as my student and I had our eyes on his father, my student walked slowly into his class.

I took a deep breath and as I passed by the receptionist, I smiled at her.

“Pelik je,” the receptionist commented. (Weird)

“What?” I thought she was commenting on my smile to her.

“Peluk macam tak pernah jumpa je,” (They hug as if they have never met each other) said the receptionist.

“Bapak dia keje oversea lah. Camtulah.” (The father works abroad, that’s probably the reason).

I sat and continued doing my work. Suddenly…

Suddenly, the student appeared at my door.

Me being me, I put down my headphone, ready to listen to anything while trying to understand the face he was wearing.

“Teacher…”

“Yes.”

“Can you call my dad?”

“Kenapa? (Why?)”

“I already missed him,” and he broke to great tears while hiding his eyes with his arms.

I cried with him for a while.

“But you just met him, Amirul. Is there anything wrong?”

“Saya tak pernah jumpa ayah saya, teacher.” (I had never met my dad before, teacher).

I cried and rushed to his side. I held his other arm strong.

“Okay, teacher call sekarang ye.” (Okay, I’m gonna call him now).

I made the wanted call, but unfortunately the father was much away from the school area to made a turn, according to him. As much as I wanted to push the father to made a turn, I sensed an emotional struggle he too, was having. He promised to come back again tomorrow. He did.

By 9.00 a.m., both the student had stood in front of my door, whilst the father had reached the school’s doorstep. By then, Amirul had already down with a high fever. I suspected having to wait for the next day had worn him down, hence, I asked the father to take him away for a break.

For the past few days after that, the father had been keeping in touch with me via e-mail. I still vividly remember he requested to always tell him about all his son’s needs. But in my own ways, I also reminded him that the incident we both witnessed (and he experienced!) was a prove that sometimes, all we need is the presence of human touch.

He never mentioned the reasons behind all the sorrow within his family. I never asked either. I felt it was already heart-breaking to see let alone to make someone feel obligated to tell me the whole story. Neither did I even pick up a call to even inform the mother. Somehow, the mother knew and gave the school a call.

She asked for my clarification. I admitted everything. One night, during a mawlid. I sat through the entire event next to a lady. We even had our dinner from the same tray. Until Amirul rushed and rested his knees onto the lady’s laps, I realised that I had been sitting next to his mother all this while.

“Mama, ni teacher Syarifah,” he said. (Mom, this is Teacher Syarifah).

“Mama tau, ”  she said. (I know, she said and smiled at me.)

For once, I felt I shrunk into the spot I was sitting. I wished I could stood up and slowly walked into the group where all my other students were, but there was no way I could do so.

“I have something to talk about what you have done recently.”

I wanted to faint.

“I’m okay about it,” I said.

There was a long pause between the two of us.

“You had done something that changed the father and benefited Amirul. I appreciate it so much. I must thank you.”

“Really?” I seemed to rise from my spot. Alhamdulillah. It was as good as she first said.

There is so much I learn from being around with children. They are many words students or children do not utter to us, but sometimes, by just being kind, we can know the entire story of their lives.

I have to reserve the second story for my next entry. This itself is already too long. It must have made your eyes teary too. To Amirul, if you ever read this, I wish you a very successful life. I still remember how you could memorise 16 ayat (verses) of the Baqarah in 10 minutes for your test. May Allah give you and family barakah from what you are doin, insyaAllah.