The fear being instilled into these poor pesantren children on a daily basis can, in no way, be productive. There are basically three punishments that I know of at this school. The first and least severe is having to stand out in the sun in front of the office until the headmaster has decided that the offending party has had enough time to think about what they have done. The second is losing one's privileges to see his or her parents on Friday (the Muslim “sabbath”). Friday is the only day when students are allowed to both leave the school grounds and to have visitors. And lastly, the headmaster sometimes decides to just kick people out of the school, condemning them to fend for themselves, find another school, and unavoidably repeat a year of their education.
What's really interesting, though, is the fact that the harshness of his punishments is not a function of the severity of the offense. I have seen students loitering outside the teacher's office for a couple hours as a result of their getting into a fight, and I have seen students virtually banished from the community for having been late to class. Yesterday, a notoriously bad student blatantly cheated on his midterm and was asked to leave the classroom, only to be able to retake the test later; however, at the beginning of this semester, my class 10-C dwindled from 40 students to 25 students because 15 of them were caught playing basketball on a Wednesday.
---
At the end of February, directly after the headmaster began his spring cleaning in my 10th grade class, three male students were sitting with me on my living room floor, forcing laughter to try and hold back the tears in their eyes. As a result of this sporadic dealing out of punishments, students are afraid of their own shadows here (as if the intense cultural belief in reality-altering ghosts weren't enough). They had just tried to leave my house after spending some time with me, but they immediately rushed back inside my door after finding that the gates to my complex had already been locked and that they could not exit. I knew the magnitude of this problem and was trying to help find some solution for them.
They were boarding house students and had innocently lost track of time while they were practicing English with me after class. Now, you might think (as I would have thought eight months ago) that it would be no problem for me to casually walk over to the assistant headmaster's home, only 25 feet from my front porch, and explain the situation to him. You might think that, since I am a teacher at the school, since the gates had actually closed five minutes earlier than normal, and since these students had taken the personal initiative to spend their scarce free time developing their English skills, an explanation to the powers that be would not even be necessary. However, what I have failed to mention, and what you might remember from past descriptions of my home, is that the female housing area borders literally the only outside wall of my home. These kids were in a strictly prohibited area after hours. If I truly felt the urge and wanted to break a window or two, I could feasibly climb the wall of my laundry room and be right inside Guyangan's forbidden paradise. These students were ultimately trapped inside the only corridor that leads directly to the mysterious place, which would ensure them all a one-way-ticket to hell, should they decide to walk north instead of south. My house was their only refuge, right next to a chained cast-iron gate, a “DO NOT ENTER” sign, an authority who could ruin their future, and the house of the most senior conservative teacher at the school.
Every creak of my house, every faint outside voice, and every muffled footstep made these kids shudder in fear that Mr. Najib had seen them and that he was about to knock on my door and send them all home to inconceivably disappointed parents. So, when there actually was a knock on my door, three petrified boys scrambled into my kitchen, out of sight, and left me to deal with whatever wrath Mr. Najib was about to lay down, hoping that I would just lie about their presence. I braced myself, knowing that I couldn't lie to my boss, but I was also feeling a lot of compassion for these poor kids. I opened the door, and thankfully, I was relieved to be welcoming nothing but a smile and a Jurassic Park DVD being held in the hands of one of my favorite students, Salim, the headmaster's grandson and frequenter of my home. The three fugitives dashed back into my living room immediately upon hearing his voice. Salim, who doesn't live on campus, might have actually been the only person who could have helped us get out of this pickle, and man, did he deliver!
When Salim realized that Reza, Afif, and Bam were all in my house, he immediately knew the gravity of the situation and instinctively greeted them all with raised eyebrows and wide eyes. Jeff Goldblum and the velociraptors were going to have to wait. Figuring out a plan of action would require some serious devotion. Salim, who was more familiar with the layout the complex than anyone else in the room, knew what had to be done. However, it was going to require three cell phones. We had mine and Salim's, but boarding house students aren't allowed to carry them, so the first course of action was to quickly locate an active phone. Luckily, this wasn't difficult. Salim left my house and came back after about five minutes with his friend's Nokia. Now we just needed to wait until dark, when the open area of the complex would be deserted, and the female students would be finished with their evening prayer session.
There are actually two sets of chained gates that these students were going to have to by-pass. But, exiting my complex without being noticed was clearly first priority and, without a doubt, the most important and challenging. Once outside, Salim would have to help them get by the second gate, into the male dorms. He was key; he was going to be the innocent and inconspicuous lookout the whole way through. With free range of any part of campus, excluding the girls' dorms, he was unique, and because it was no secret that he often drops by my house, no one would question his walking around after dark. My role was also going to be integral. Mr. Najib loves it when I spend time at his house, so that night, I was certainly going to be paying him a visit.
When Salim went to borrow his friend's phone, he also had another important task. Mr. Najib's blinds are unpredictably open or closed on any given night, and Salim had to let us know the status of his windows. Had the blinds been closed, I would have been unnecessary in the escape plan because Mr. Najib virtually never leaves his house after dark, but as it turned out, I would need to be a decoy.
Salim would take his first post, just inside the servants' entrance to Mr. Jalil's home (the senior teacher at the school). This entrance opens into a washroom and a pretty long hallway that leads right into the kitchen at the back of the house, bypassing all the bedrooms and the living room. Once through the kitchen, there is another hallway and then a door to the outside of the complex. Salim would have to make sure that this path was clear. But, before any of that could happen, I had to distract Mr. Najib. Although the chance was minimal, we couldn't risk him seeing the students running from my house to Mr. Jalil's.
I was first to leave the house, and Salim was pretty close behind me. I knocked on Mr. Najib's door as Salim took his position. Of course, he received me with utter delight and excitement, and I was encouraged to take a seat - the first obstacle. This was going to be a little awkward. Clearly, the most obvious seat to take would be the one that was closest to me, the one right in front of the window. I didn't initially think about the layout of Mr. Najib's living room, but having him talk to me with a view of the student's path in the background would totally undermine the entire purpose of my going to his home. So, not skipping a beat, I walked right passed him at the door and took a seat at the opposite side of his living room. His only option then was to sit with his back to the window.
I talked to him for about 30 seconds before receiving a text message from Salim, telling me that the coast was clear. I excused myself from conversation for just a moment, in order to immediately send a message to the boys in my home (who had Salim's friend's phone) that they could run for it. Trying desperately to not burst into laughter and to keep my eye-contact with Mr. Najib, I saw three frightened kids out of the corner of my eye, running like hell across the small courtyard.
Salim obviously did a good job from that point on because I still see Reza and Bam on a regular basis. I know they'd never been trapped inside my part of campus before, but after they got passed that hurtle, I take it that getting back into the male dorms after hours isn't too difficult if you know what you're doing. I was pretty amused by the entire scheme, but those boys were certainly not having fun that night, and I actually had to be pretty serious too. While I'm pretty much immune to anything that goes down at this school as far as punishments go, I'm sure that if Mr. Najib had seen those boys running in front of his house, from the direction of mine, with sitting me in his living room, he probably would have been pretty angry. I was definitely facing a loss of trust, but Salim made us all feel confident that it would work, and now everyone has a pretty wonderful story!
No comments:
Post a Comment