After that age, no one is interested in school anymore. The places that they ended up with oftentimes are tragic. The new teacher in that town school told Hamsilran he will represent their class. To us, Hamsilran represents our kampong and the three hundred and ten kids who are in the literacy center.
Teacher B went back the following day, brought Hamsilran and his mom to a nearby store to buy what he needs for the contest. Our program for our guests went on well at the same time that Hamsilran was competing. By lunch time we learned, he won first place. Our kampong boy won first place. How the kampong rejoiced. Good news like this fuels us to stand the heat of the sun even we have to climb steep hills at times.
When for the first time in his life boys like Hamsilran see what a town is like. See what a school is like. It’s their first time but talk is out that they can compete and outdo the other kids who had been in that school since Form 1. He comes Form 4, straight from the literacy center. Their new teachers are asking, which school they come from, what curriculum are the teachers using. I wished I was there to answer the new teacher.
Or better I could invite her to see the “school”. I hope I will be there when other s like her would visit and I will see her face upon seeing that mothers are teaching their own kids. That kids are sitting on the floor. That kids walk their way too early at times for their class. That they had to take turns in using the space that we have. I wish she would be able to decipher what makes it work for boys like Hamsilran to conquer an entirely new world and stand out.
When Teacher B asked Hamsilran what he needs for the contest, what he needs to give his best- I imagined how he looked when he answered. I know him and I’ve seen those eyes and smile before. Hamsilran answered, just pencils, Teacher B. I need pencils.