Grades are just numbers

It's the end of the semester, and I have put up students' grades online. They actually get to know their progress weekly, as I grade their assignments after every submission. 

And then the texts came in. Asking for better grades, asking for an A. Wanting to graduate cum laude.

Not one, not two.. 

Banyak.

As a flunking student throughout much of my young adolescence, my first reaction was "Ga pentinggggggg whyyyyyy". IPk-ku pertama itu 2.17 and the world did not end. 

I understand job competition was much less intense in the early 2000s, and things like grades have historically different consequences to students' future compared to post-pandemic times. 

But on a human level... I hope what you feel and learn in class and beyond matters much more than numbers on a piece of paper. I hope your self-worth is not determined by pieces of papers. 

Much love.

Bizarro world

In the past months, some of my students and early career colleagues told me they read my blog (which I have not updated in such a long time). 

So weird. 

Since I don't know what to make of it, I suppose I'll write about it. And before writing, I usually ask what they thought when reading such random rambles. 

Indira (not real name) said her friend reads this blog in silent as a PhD student caring for a young child. It made her feel less alone. She also said that she got to know me when I have figured out who I was and what I wanted to do for a living, and wished she could ask in my 20s and 30s, what the hell happened. 

HELL HAPPENED. HAHHAHAHAHAHHAA. 

Rasanya eek banget lah jadi young adult (and an adult too actually HUAHAHAHA), ga tau kerja apa, ga tau mau jadi apa, pingin tidur aja seharian semalaman nonton TV main game, dimarahin adults....... (Yha~.. Jaxelku keluar....) Feeling inadequate, stubborn, pingin lari, tapi pingin juga lari ke sesuatu... Baru sampe rumah, ada "MAMAAAAAAAA" dikintilin ke kamar mandi. Nangis aja ga ada tenaga LOLOLOLOLOL.

All these feelings are normal. I too feel it once in a while, still. And it's ok. Puk puk, brush yourself off, get back on your feet, and try again. Even if trying again means crying with your kid saying, "I am so tired. Shall we be tired together for 30 minutes?". 

So.. I am around. Drop messages and questions, I'll try to be as honest and as open as I can. We'll figure out how all my pain and lessons learnt (or unresolvable traumatic experiences) can be of use to you (and me).

Enak juga nulis freestyle, ga pake banyak mikir cos I have been writing academically and professionally within such structured corridors. So it's good that some of you reached out to make me write freely again. Feeling useful goes both ways. In reciprocity, and in solidarity. 

Hugggggggsssss.......

Badge of Honour

It’s been some time since I posted anything. What with COVID-19 and everything that has left us with even more disorientation than the ordinary...

I am on my 12th year teaching now, and the age gap between my 18 year old students and I is growing wider. Quite factually.

Every year, my new students ask if I knew what I wanted to do for a living since I was their age (18 yo)?

Every year, my last year students ask if I am happy with my job.

The answer to both, is no.

I was clueless and lost when I was 18, and I didn’t know what I wanted to do when I was 21. I fit nowhere.

And we will always fit nowhere, if what we seek is a semblance of social bonds in our labouring.

The economy is structured in such a way that any human being, doing what they do best in the happiest point they are, will not be paid or is paid poorly. It is called capitalism. It will reap you for all you are worth, and them some, and ruin any meaningful relationship you have with your loved ones. It’s just how it’s been operating in the past three centuries. We are minuscule compared to how complex and advance it’s structured.

All we have, are those fleeting moments when we can see the best us in our social relationships. It can be in music, poems, film, a lab experiment, a garden... When we labour, we can realise the most worthy part of us in our social relationships. And I—becomes us.

If this is what you relate to, you won’t be paid much by the capitalist economy. You would have to let go of your aspirations for upward mobility, and the social acknowledgements that come with it. You would have to accept social stigmas. “Failure”, “outcasts”, “a shame”. You would need to grow a thicker skin.

But I promise you, if you can feel self-empathy in ways that are in line with your social empathy, other options seem unnecessary. Being a social outcast, slowly, becomes a badge of honour.

Know that you are not alone in feeling that way. In a dog-eat-dog social world, not being successful might mean you never had the heart to step on someone else’s to toes to get ahead. And you begin to see those who can, in a very different way.