It was a fine Saturday morning.

A supposedly ordinary one within the whole four months of having experienced a life of being a teacher in SDN Kalama, North Sulawesi.

The weekly prayer attended by all students in boyscout uniform was about to finish. The raindrops just started to fall when one teacher asked if any of them would like to join the corps of the Monday flag ceremony. Various sizes of fingers were raised frantically, until she demanded a volunteer to become the conductor of the choir in the ceremony; for it brought a sudden silence in the gloomy, well-sized room. The only sound I could hear then is the music of the water drops outside, hitting the ground of Kalama Kola relentlessly.

I just diverted my sleepy eyes to a few neighbours nearby, seemingly drowned in their daily chit-chat, when the teacher gasped in shock. A 7-year-old, 2nd grader Andra Mohonis raised her finger in confidence. All eyes on her, the teacher looked excited and announced loudly that the tiny girl is a strong example even to the bigger students. I silently nodded; it never happened there that a student her age would stand as one of the primary officers in the ceremony; whereas in Andra’s position, she would have to lead the choir consisting of 3rd to 6th graders.

Obviously, her courage didn’t come without any good pretext. She was actually well-known for her confidence in talking to the elders, her standout literacy skill, and her talent in playing keroncong and singing songs.

After giving way to the mighty rain for half an hour, the students ran to the school field altogether. The flag ceremony rehearsal began right away, it went very well until the time came for the choir to sing the national anthem. Andra stepped forward, fleeting smile in her lips, then was willing to give the command to the choir.

Then Andra slipped her tongue and hit the wrong note...

The other kids bursted in laughter. Number of teachers smiled scornfully before set the ambience of the rehearsal straight. The smile on Andra’s lips slipped away, she seemed holding her tears yet managed to continue until the flag hit the top of the pole. A 2nd grader. Bloody hell.

The rehearsal ended, then poor Andra exploded. Some 4th and 5th graders hugged and consoled her. A male teacher came, brought her to his side and caressed her straight, lovely hair. She looked calmer then moved aside, the empty eyes of hers stared at the surroundings in loneliness. It went as usual; some kids were running over here and there, some passing the ball, playing keroncong...

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Now meet Atrilia Kaudis.

A 10-year-old 5th grader who is deemed, among her fellows, the master of the art of handicraft, drawing, and the aforementioned keroncong in the school. Moreover, she recently represented the school in the art workshop held in the district.

And here is my kind of confession. I teach 5th grade, therefore Atrilia is one of my students. Maths, Science, Social Science, Civics are among the subjects under my supervision. Among her fellow classmates, she usually struggled the most on them. Not only once did I snap at and reprimand her to focus during the class and study at home as well.

And I hardly believed my eyes when she got zero in Math test; later I found out that she totally didn’t spare her time to study for the test. I couldn’t resist my disappointment on her..

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Back to the fine Saturday afternoon.

Andra Mohonis, recently brought down in embarrassment, sat next to the school fence. Her eyes still bore the sadness thanks to the incident earlier that morning. Her palms were crossed, put in the middle of her thighs; her legs hung still, as if she was too afraid to make the slightest move..

I was about to get closer to Andra when suddenly Atrilia, holding keroncong, reached her and took her to the stairs. Atrilia sat eye-on-eye with Andra then said, “Don’t be sad, Momo (dear). Let the other kids do whatever they like!” I happened to capture the moment of encouragement, as shown above.

Right afterwards, Atrilia (left side of the picture) showed the musically-talented Andra (right side of the picture) how to sing a renowned lovesong with the help of the instrument, performing it flawlessly. Andra stared in curiosity, then asked Atrilia to perform the song once more. Instead, Atrilia handed the instrument over then encouraged her to play the song. I followed her lead, “Show me your magic, Andra!” Atrilia again gave Andra the words of encouragement, “hey, the teacher is really looking forward to your playing it. Come on!” She took the instrument then replied with the first big smile I saw on her that day, “I can’t play it, Sir!” I then sat near both the girls as I paid attention to Andra, instead, singing Ohapi, a song about lifelong friendship. I looked at Andra with a huge relief. She seemed to regain her confidence..

(And Andra did. I testified how she stepped confidently on the day of the flag ceremony and led the choir like a pro. When she finished, we exchanged eye contact and smiles).

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And there goes my disappointment on my dear Atrilia...

I was ashamed. Never did I stand in front of the class telling my students to encourage their friends when they were down, yet this girl seemed to comprehend it better than I do..

She just acquired a hundred points on the subject of life.

Perhaps, a true inspiration doesn’t relate to those man-made numbers... Isn’t it right, Atrilia?