A Bittersweet Good-bye for My Professor
I'm on the edge of 3rd semester, which mean I'll have exams week soon (it'll start on 2nd January). This morning, I want to say something bitter and also sweet of good-bye (that's why it's called as bittersweet).
I have Illustration of Music class, which is learning about how actually a music score working in a film, music video, or else. But no, we're not learning how to play an instrument. I love this class, because music always become my little passion, even though I don't have talent for music at all. Two days ago was the last and also the most "grand" class session of Illustration of Music.
We're headed off to Bantul for the workshop. Oh right, I almost forget to tell that the class itself is a workshop. I was very excited to attend the class and absorb as many as my brain can contain. I remember my Professor said, "You're a musafir* (re: moo-saa-feer). Headed off from Sleman, to (Yogyakarta) City, and then Bantul," to all the Muslim's men in the room. Haha. Because that day was Friday, when Muslim's men are supposed to do a pray (Indonesian called is as Shalat Jumat; Friday Pray, which is held every Friday).
Yes. I'm not going to talk about the workshop, because it'll be way too long to write that here. And, I written it before for my resume assignment, so why bother re-writing it in English? I'll write everything I want from the experience.
I love the place. It's unfortunate I didn't take any photo. Well, I'm not a person who will take the initiative (for taking photos). It was like entering a new dark but adventurous world. One of my friend told us there's graveyard for Christian people at the end of the road, so it's kind of creepy. I... don't think so, but I can't make sure, because I didn't take a look at all.
The workshop was interesting. I could see my Professor playing a Keyboard, and feeling the grand of his playing. This is my first time to see it in person, to be honest. He never brought any real Keyboard to class with him (it'll exhaust himself, so he should asked someone to borrow his Keyboard, he said).
I didn't ate anything before, so I was starving when I got there. Fortunately, they provide us some snacks. At least I can endure my craving for food. Then at the end of the workshop, they gave us a rice box and a cup of hot tea. That's nice. Because I love any free food, haha. The Roasted Chicken was very delicious, said my friends who happened to try the Chicken a little bit (they're my friends from the rented-room, but of course they're from the other room from me). Well yes, the Roasted Chicken was very tasty!
Speak of my Professor, he's one of few Professors that I love. I love the way he teach us and how persistence he is to us. And, I love the lesson too! How wonderful. Unfortunately, he's not a permanent Professor in my college, so he'll only teach one class every two semesters. I'll never meet him anymore for the next semester, for the 6th semester, and for the 8th semester. The most sad think is, he'll (most probably) never teach me anymore for the rest of my study here. So when I shook hand with him (and looking to his eyes directly), I almost can't help myself from crying. I'll miss him. I'll never forget his class and all the stuffs he teach us for this 3rd semester. I can hold myself not to burst in tears, but I can't when I finally spoke about it to one of my rented-room friend. Thank you for your lesson this 3rd semester, Sir. I hope I can be a great person someday, so I can show you this is me when I'm successful. Amen.
| A grand piano (Doc. Yamaha Musik) |
I have Illustration of Music class, which is learning about how actually a music score working in a film, music video, or else. But no, we're not learning how to play an instrument. I love this class, because music always become my little passion, even though I don't have talent for music at all. Two days ago was the last and also the most "grand" class session of Illustration of Music.
We're headed off to Bantul for the workshop. Oh right, I almost forget to tell that the class itself is a workshop. I was very excited to attend the class and absorb as many as my brain can contain. I remember my Professor said, "You're a musafir* (re: moo-saa-feer). Headed off from Sleman, to (Yogyakarta) City, and then Bantul," to all the Muslim's men in the room. Haha. Because that day was Friday, when Muslim's men are supposed to do a pray (Indonesian called is as Shalat Jumat; Friday Pray, which is held every Friday).
Yes. I'm not going to talk about the workshop, because it'll be way too long to write that here. And, I written it before for my resume assignment, so why bother re-writing it in English? I'll write everything I want from the experience.
I love the place. It's unfortunate I didn't take any photo. Well, I'm not a person who will take the initiative (for taking photos). It was like entering a new dark but adventurous world. One of my friend told us there's graveyard for Christian people at the end of the road, so it's kind of creepy. I... don't think so, but I can't make sure, because I didn't take a look at all.
The workshop was interesting. I could see my Professor playing a Keyboard, and feeling the grand of his playing. This is my first time to see it in person, to be honest. He never brought any real Keyboard to class with him (it'll exhaust himself, so he should asked someone to borrow his Keyboard, he said).
I didn't ate anything before, so I was starving when I got there. Fortunately, they provide us some snacks. At least I can endure my craving for food. Then at the end of the workshop, they gave us a rice box and a cup of hot tea. That's nice. Because I love any free food, haha. The Roasted Chicken was very delicious, said my friends who happened to try the Chicken a little bit (they're my friends from the rented-room, but of course they're from the other room from me). Well yes, the Roasted Chicken was very tasty!
Speak of my Professor, he's one of few Professors that I love. I love the way he teach us and how persistence he is to us. And, I love the lesson too! How wonderful. Unfortunately, he's not a permanent Professor in my college, so he'll only teach one class every two semesters. I'll never meet him anymore for the next semester, for the 6th semester, and for the 8th semester. The most sad think is, he'll (most probably) never teach me anymore for the rest of my study here. So when I shook hand with him (and looking to his eyes directly), I almost can't help myself from crying. I'll miss him. I'll never forget his class and all the stuffs he teach us for this 3rd semester. I can hold myself not to burst in tears, but I can't when I finally spoke about it to one of my rented-room friend. Thank you for your lesson this 3rd semester, Sir. I hope I can be a great person someday, so I can show you this is me when I'm successful. Amen.
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