Ina o Ina

"abg... tlg dtg umah segera, urgent". Hakim baca sms sepantas kilat. Terus kol balik phone Ina. Tak berjawab. Hakim cemas. Tak pernah Ina hantar sms macam tu. Hakim kelam kabut hidupkan enjin kereta. Dia risaukan kekasih tersayangnya itu. Macam-macam dalam kepalanya waktu itu. Dia kenal Ina sejak dari zaman kanak-kanak lagi. Keluarganya berjiran dengan keluarga Ina. Dari kecik mereka bermain bersama, kalau main masak-masak dia sanggup bertumbuk dengan Farok semata-mata nak jadi bapak kerana Ina mesti jadi mak. Pernah Farok cakap dia pondan sebab sentiasa bermain dengan Ina waktu Farok dan Saleh ajak main askar-askar. Dia ajak jugak Ina main askar-askar tapi Ina cakap budak pompuan mana boleh main permainan kasar-kasar macam tu. Sebab itulah dia sukakan Ina, lembut, penyayang dan penuh ciri-ciri keperempuanan. Bila masuk sekolahpun, dia dan Ina berbasikal sama-sama ke sekolah. Walaupun Farok dan Saleh selalu kutuk bila dia tak mahu 'racing bmx' dengan depapun dia tak kisah. Dia rela dikutuk oleh kawan-kawan daripada meninggalkan Ina kayuh basikal sorang-sorang. Dia pernah kena belasah sampai lebam bijik mata oleh 'Husin and the gang' yang mengganggu Ina masa darjah tiga. Waktu darjah 4, bila dia mula lancar tulis baca dan tahu berpantun sikit-sikit diapun tulis surat kpd Ina "Pen merah pen biru, U baca I love U' bersama sebijik gula-gula Hacks sebagai hadiah harijadi Ina... gara-gara surat itulah dia jelingan tajam Mak Ropiah ibunya Ina yang terjumpa surat itu waktu menyemak buku sekolah Ina. Mak Ropiah memberitahu hal itu kepada ibunya, dan hasilnya dia terpaksa menadah telinga menahan leteran maknya. Nasib baik bapak tak tahu, kalau tidak naya. Hakim gelak sorang-sorang waktu teringatkan peristiwa itu tapi fikirannya kembali cemas mengingatkan sms Ina tadi. Sudah hampir 15 kali dia cuba hubungi telefon Ina tapi masih tidak berjawab. Dia amat risau kala itu, fikirannya menelah perkara yang buruk-buruk saja. Dia risau kerana Ina tinggal seorang diri. Rakan serumah Ina, si Baizura sedang bekerja kala itu. Dia tahu, Ina kerja shift pagi tadi, Baizura kerja shift malam. Dia risau kerana panggilannya tidak berjawab. Dia risau takut-takut rumah Ina dimasuki penyamun yang memang menjadi-jadi akhir-akhir ini. Baru-baru ni, ada rumah di kawasan perumahan Ina dimasuki perompak. Dia berdoa jika rumah Ina dimasuki perompak sekalipun janganlah kekasih hatinya itu diapa-apakan, ambiklah barang apa saja yang mereka mahu asalkan Ina tidak diapa-apakan. Dia berdoa sungguh-sungguh. Dia bercinta dengan Ina sejak darjah 6 lagi, sejak dia mengerti apa itu baligh bagi seorang laki-laki dan perempuan. Hingga sekarang mereka masih bercinta. Kasihnya pada Ina dah macam Gunung Everest, tak tergoyahkan. Jika tak ada aral melintang hujung tahun ini keluarganya akan masuk meminang Ina. Ina akan menjadi surinya yang sah dan dia tak mahu apa-apa yang buruk terjadi kepada bakal isterinya itu. Keretanya memecut laju memasuki kawasan perumahan Ina. Sebaik berhenti di depan rumah Ina Hakim terpa keluar dari kereta. Dia lompat pagar rendah rumah Ina. Dia terpa ke pintu sambil jerit "Ina, Ina". Dia pulas tombol pintu, pintu tak berkunci. Dia betul-betul cemas. Dia ketuk pintu bilik Ina. Dia dengar esakan Ina. Ina menangis. Hakim makin cemas. Dia ketuk lagi pintu bilik Ina sambil panggil nama Ina. Hakim tak boleh bersabar lagi, dia pulas tombol pintu bilik Ina. Juga tak berkunci. Dia masuk bilik Ina, dia tengok Ina teresak-esak atas katil. Rambut Ina kusut masai, Ina tekup muka sambil menangis. "Ina, apa yang terjadi sayang" Hakim cuba pujuk Ina. Ina masih dalam sendu. "hu... hu... " " Ina, cakap kat abang elok-elok, apa yang dah jadi" "Hu..hu" Hakim dah tak sabar, dia dah tak peduli walau apapun yang akan keluar dari mulut Ina. Dia akan terima walau seburuk manapun berita yang akan keluar dari mulut Ina. Hakim goncang bahu Ina. "Ina, what hell is going on... tell me!!" Suara Hakim kuat kali ini. Ina berenti menangis, Ina tatap wajah Hakim, Ina renung mata Hakim. "Bang, Ina lapar, nak makan nasik. Duit gaji tak masuk lagi."

Haram Kahwin Dengan Gadis Satu Kampung

Haram menikahi gadis satu kampung.

JAKIM telah mengeluarkan fatwa baru. Setelah diadakan perbincangan dan diskusi di antara para pemimpin, JAKIM dan ahli ulama' memberikan fatwa pada tanggal 3 February tahun 2006: "HARAM HUKUMNYA BAGI SEORANG MUSLIM LAKI-LAKI UNTUK MENIKAH DENGAN GADIS SATU KAMPUNG"

Fatwa JAKIM ini telah menimbulkan perdebatan dan bantahan yang sangat sengit antara yang pro dan kontra. Bahkan banyak pihak yang menyatakan bahawa JAKIM telah mengambil keputusan yang tidak munasabah dan terburu-buru.

Wartawan Berita Harian telah meminta pegawai kanan JAKIM untuk memberi ulasan yang mendalam sebab-sebab JAKIM mengeluarkan fatwa sedemikian.

Inilah isi wawancara tersebut: Wartawan: Bagaimana JAKIM boleh mengeluarkan fatwa haram untuk menikahi gadis satu kampung? Pegawai Kanan: Bagaimana tidak haram, sedangkan menikahi empat orang wanita sahaja sudah berat, apalagi satu kampung...!!! hehehehehe... jgn marah ye, kite pun terkena jugak. Senyum² selalu... (",)

Cerita yang memang best

Abah!.......tolong kembalikan tangan Ita!!!

Assalamualaikum teman-temanku sekalian,Kisah ini untuk dijadikan pedoman dan pengajaran......Sebagai seorang ibu, anda patut menghalang atau menegur perbuatan suami andamemukul terutama sekali terhadap anak2 yg masih kecil dan tak tau apa2. Kalaupun terpaksa, ikutilah spt apa yang telah diajarkan oleh junjungan besar Rasulullah SAW. Namun perlu diingat, dalam Islam memukul bukanlah cara terbaik didalam mendidik anak-anak!! Sepasang suami isteri - seperti pasangan lain di kota-kota besar, meninggalkan anak-anak diasuh pembantu rumah semasa keluar bekerja. Anak tunggal pasangan ini, perempuan berusia tiga setengah tahun. Bersendirian di rumah dia kerap dibiarkan pembantunya yang sibuk bekerja bermain diluar, tetapi pintu pagar tetap dikunci. Bermainlah dia sama ada berayun-ayun di atas buaian yang dibeli bapanya ataupun memetik bunga raya, bunga kertas dan lain-lain di halaman rumahnya.

Suatu hari dia melihat sebatang paku karat. Dia pun mencoret semen tempat letak kereta ayahnya oleh kerana lantainya diperbuat dari marmer, coretan tidak kelihatan. Dicobanya pada kereta baru ayahnya. Ya... kerana mobil itu bewarna gelap, coretannya tampak jelas. Apa lagi kanak-kanak ini pun membuat coretan sesuai dengan kreativinya. Hari itu ayah dan ibunya bermotosikal ke tempat kerja kerana kesesakan jalan raya, ada perayaan Thaipusam.

Setelah penuh coretan yg sebelah kanan dia beralih ke sebelah kiri kereta. Dibuatnya gambar ibu dan ayahnya, gambarnya sendiri, lukisan ayam, kucing dan lain mengikut imaginasinya. Kejadian itu berlangsung tanpa disedari si pembantu rumah.

Pulang petang itu, terkejut pasangan itu melihat kereta yang baru sebulan dibeli dengan bayaran ansuran. Si ayah yang belum lagi masuk ke rumah ini pun terus menjerit, "Kerja siapa ini?" Pembantu rumah yang tersentak dengan jeritan itu berlari keluar. Dia juga beristighfar. Mukanya merah padam ketakutan lebih2 melihat wajah bengis tuannya.

Sekali lagi diajukan pertanyaan keras kepadanya, dia terus mengatakan “Tak tahu...!”, "kamu dirumah sepanjang hari, apa saja yg kau lakukan?"herdik si isteri lagi.

Si anak yang mendengar suara ayahnya, tiba-tiba berlari keluar dari biliknya. Dengan penuh manja dia berkata "Ita yg membuat itu abahhh.. cantikkan!" katanya sambil memeluk ayahnya ingin bermanja seperti biasa. Si ayah yang hilang kesabaran mengambil sebatang ranting kecil dari pohon bunga raya didepannya, terus dipukulkannya telapak tangan anaknya berkali-kali . Si anak yang tak mengerti apa-apa terlolong-lolong kesakitan sekaligus ketakutan.

Puas memukul telapak tangan, si ayah memukul pula belakang tangan anaknya. Si ibu cuma mendiamkan saja, seolah-olah merestui dan merasa puas dengan hukuman yang dikenakan.

Pembantu rumah kebinggungan, tidak tahu apa yang harus dibuat. Si ayah cukup rakus memukul-mukul tangan kanan dan kemudian tangan kiri anaknya.

Setelah itu si ayah masuk ke rumah dituruti si ibu, pembantu rumah menggendong anak kecil itu, membawanya ke kamar. Dilihatnya telapak tangan dan belakang tangan si anak kecil luka2 dan berdarah. Pembantu rumah memandikan anak kecil itu. Sambil menyiram air sambil dia ikut menangis. Anak kecil itu juga terjerit-jerit menahan kepedihan saat luka2nya itu terkena air.

Si pembantu rumah kemudian menidurkan anak kecil itu. Si ayah sengaja membiarkan anak itu tidur bersama pembantu rumah.

Keesokkan harinya, kedua-dua belah tangan si anak membengkak. Pembantu rumah mengadu. "Sapukan obat saja!" jawab tuannya, ayah si anak. Pulang dari kerja, dia tidak pun menjenguk anak kecil itu yang menghabiskan waktu di bilik pembantu. Si ayah kononnya mau mengajar anaknya.

Tiga hari berlalu, si ayah tidak pernah menjenguk anaknya sementara si ibu juga begitu tetapi setiap hari bertanya kepada pembantu rumah. “Ita demam... " jawap pembantunya ringkas. "Kasih minum panadol ," jawab si ibu. Sebelum si ibu masuk bilik tidurnya dia menjenguk kamar pembantunya. Saat dilihat anaknya Ita dalam pelukan pembantu rumah, dia menutup kembali pintu bilik pembantunya.

Masuk hari keempat, pembantu rumah memberitahukan tuannya bahwa suhu badan Ita terlalu panas. "Petang nanti kita bawa ke klinik. Pukul 5.00 siap" kata majikannya itu. Sampai saatnya si anak yang sudah lemah dibawa ke klinik, doktor mengarahkan ia dirujuk ke hospital kerana keadaannya yang serius.

Setelah seminggu dirawat doktor memanggil ayah dan ibu anak itu. "Tidak ada pilihan.." katanya yang menyarankan agar kedua tangan anak itu dipotong kerana jangkitan yang terjadi sudah terlalu parah.

"Ia sudah bernanah, demi menyelamatkan nyawanya kedua tangannya perlu dipotong dari siku ke bawah" kata doktor.

Si ayah dan ibu bagaikan terkena halilintar mendengar kata-kata itu. Terasa dunia berhenti berputar, tapi apa yg dapat dikatakan. Si ibu meraung merangkul si anak. Dengan berat hati dan lelehan air mata isterinya, si ayah terketar-ketar menandatangani surat persetujuan pembedahan.

Keluar dari bilik pembedahan, selepas obat bius yang disuntikkan habis, si anak menangis kesakitan. Dia juga hairan melihat kedua tangannya berbalut kain putih.

Ditatapnya muka ayah dan ibunya, kemudian ke wajah pembantu rumah. Dia mengerutkan dahi melihat mereka semua menangis.

Dalam kesakitan menahan sakit, si anak bersuara dalam linangan air mata, "Abah.. Mama... Ita tidak akan buat lagi. Ita tak mau abah pukul Ita lagi, Ita tak mau jahat. “Ita sayang abah.. sayang mama." katanya berulang kali membuatkan si ibu gagal menahan rasa sedihnya. "Ita juga sayang Kak Narti.." katanya memandang wajah pembantu rumah, sekaligus membuatkan gadis dari Surabaya itu meraung histeria.

"Abah.. kembalikan tangan Ita, jangan abah ambil tangan .. Ita janji tidak akan buat lagi! Bagaimana Ita mau makan nanti? Bagaimana Ita mau bermain? Ita janji tidak akan mencoret2 kereta abah lagi," katanya berulang-ulang.

Terasa tercabut jantung si ibu mendengar kata-kata anaknya. Meraung2 dia sekuat hati namun takdir yang sudah terjadi, tiada manusia dapat menahannya!

lelaki vs perempuan-betul ker ni....

* Lunch Time* *Lelaki* 1. Waktu lunch, jalan ke tempat makan 2. Sampai kedai makan, masuk 3. Ambik Pinggan 4. Letak nasi 5. Letak Lauk 6.. Ke kaunter, Bayar nasi dan Air Sekali 7. Makan 8. Habis 9. Balik Opis or *Perempuan* 1. Waktu lunch, jalan ke kedai makan 2. Perhatikan orang waktu jalan 3. Sempat mengumpat dulu 4. Sambil jalan betulkan tudung @ tgk baju sendiri, tgk kaki 5. Tengok baju orang lain, especially yang cantik dr baju sendiri. 6. Sampai kedai makan, jenguk-jenguk dulu 7. Ramai orang,cari kedai lain. 8. Jalan lagi 9. Dah puas ati..masuk.. 10. Survey lauk dulu 2, 3 minit. 11. Carik2 pinggan, ambik pinggan 12. Belek-belek pinggan, bersih ke?? tak bersih?..eeeeiiii. . 13. Dah puas ati, ambik nasi 14. Ambik nasi ceduk sikit-sikit 15. Tak sah kalau tak ceduk 2/3 kali 16. Buang balik nasi.banyak. . 17. Tak puas ati, banyak lagi..buang lagi..(tinggal sejemput) 18. Godek2 sikit nasi dalam pinggan 2minit 19. Carik lauk. Survey dulu keliling meja. Tenguk sana , tenguk sini 20. Jengok dlm bekas lauk, ambik kuah sikit 21. Jengok bekas lauk lain, ceduk kuah sikit lagi 22. Jengok lagi? sambil tu tengok2 orang, jeling-jeling 23. Ambil lauk 24. Pusing lagi 25. Carik sayur pulak! 26. Ambik sayur selepas survey dan keliling 2 minit 27. Ke kaunter bayaran 28. Tgk2 nasi dlm pinggan 29. Berbisik ngan kawan "alaamak byk la aku ambik" 30. Sampai depan kaunter "berapa?" 31. Bukak dompet..belek2 celah kad2 bank, celah kad2 nama, celah gambar2.. 32. Keluarkan duit 33. Buat isyarat mata ngan member (sbb nasi mahal) 35. Tutup dompet. Ambik nasi 36. Tinjau-tinjau tempat duduk. 37. Jumpa tempat duduk..alamak kotorlah!!! 38. Cari tempat duduk lain 39. Jumpa. Duduk.. 40. Alamak. Air tak order lagi 41. Tinjau2, carik org order air..sambil tangan betulkan tudung 42. Order air 43. Bangun 44. Ambik sudu 45. Duduk 46. Bangun 47. Ambik Tisu 48. Duduk 49. Air sampai 50. Belek dompet (Step tadi) 51. Bayar 52. Tutup 53. Minum air 54. Start makan 55. Tengok-tengok orang sambil makan 56. Makan separuh..kenyang 57. Sebab dah minum air 58. Letak sudu, letak garpu 59. Pinggan tolak tepi 60. Borak2 kater makanan tak sedap 61. Ngumpat2..tg korang 62. Pukul 2, naik opis.. No wonder women are more complex than men emotionally so lepas ni mana2 pompun yg terasa cepat2lah ubah perangai sebelum orang lelaki yg Q di belakang awk tu pulak yang mengumpat cakap 'lembab betul pompuan ni ambik lauk' jadi jgn nak perasan bila lelaki pandang awak... bukannya sebab awk tu cun tapi bengang sebab awk tu terhegeh2 ambik lauk. *pengakuan (dari seorg lelaki)

MaLas....

Pada masa dahulu, ada sebuah kampung dimana semua rakyatnya amat rajin belaka tidak ada yang malas. Jadi pada suatu hari, rajanya membuat pengumuman hendak mencari seorang yang malas. Semasa perhimpunan itu, adalah seorang lelaki mengaku Katanya : "saya adalah yang paling malas" Raja pun bertanya : "apa tahap malas awak?" Lalu jawab lelaki tersebut :"kalau saya hendak makan, ada orang yang menyuapkan saya". Tiba-tiba datang seorang lelaki lagi : "Saya lebih malas lagi dari dia tuanku". Tuanku pun bertanya kepadanya : "sampai mana pulak tahap malas awak?" maka jawabnya : "Kalau saya makanpun, sampai ada orang tolong kunyahkan". Maka raja pun terdiam? Tanpa disangka2 datang seorang budak lelaki datang kepadanya sambil berkata: "saya adalah yang paling malas tuanku". Raja pun bertanya, : "bagaimana pula tahap kemalasan awak?" budak itu pun menjawab : "Nak cite pun malas".

Kentut

Seorang wanita tua pergi ke klinik untuk membuat pemeriksaan. Doktor bertanyakan kepada wanita tersebut apa masalahnya.

Wanita tua menjawab dia menghadapi masalah kentut yang tidak berbunyi dan tidak berbau, sedangkan dia telah kentut sehingga sepuluh kali banyaknya ketika berada di pejabat. Memandangkan kentutnya tidak berbunyi dan berbau dia langsung tidak menyedari ianya berlaku. Doktor mendengar dengan teliti dan memberi wanita tua tersebut senarai beberapa jenis pil yang perlu di ambil. Doktor mengarahkan wanita tua itu mengambil pil-pil tersebut selama seminggu dan selepas itu datang berjumpa dengannya semula.

Selepas seminggu wanita tua itu datang semula ke klinik untuk menyatakan rasa tidak puas hatinya kepada doktor.

"Saya tak tau apa yang doktor berikan kepada saya, tapi bau udara di sekitar saya sangat busuk, tak dengar bunyi apa-apa pun tapi busuknya sangat dahsyat", kata wanita itu.

"Bagus, sekarang deria bau awak dah pulih, kita akan usaha untuk pulihkan deria pendengaran awak pula", kata doktor.

The Teacher and the Vase

By John Mehrmann We are never too late to thank our teachers, and never too old to learn from children. Wide eyes stared with rapt anticipation as the teacher strolled between the rows of desks. The teacher carried a stack of construction paper in her arms, handing a single sheet of fresh clean paper to each child as she gracefully made her way around the classroom. As the paper landed on the desk in front of each child, little hands eagerly selected a preferred color of crayon and hovered over the paper, awaiting the first instruction. The children hunched over their desks, leaning forward in their seats as if they were in starting blocks and waiting for the sound of the gun to start the race. As the last page fluttered effortlessly to the settle on the small wooden desk, the entire room seemed to take a breath as one. The teacher walked to the front of the room, cradling the remaining paper in her arms. She paused for a moment to stare into the eyes of the expectant children, drinking deeply of the warmth and enthusiasm in the anticipating gazes. "After you have completed your art project," started the teacher. She paused for dramatic effect, to assure that she had the complete and undivided attention of everyone in the room. "After you have completed your art project, then you can go out to the playground. You will hand in your drawings to me, and then you may walk quietly outside. You must stay in the playground until everyone has finished. Is that understood?" The children rose up in their chairs and nodded their heads enthusiastically. Some smiled and looked at one another. Others stole glimpses out the window, already making plans for the type of games that they would play in the sunshine. The teacher explained the project, "I want each of you to draw a picture of a vase that represents your family. I want you to think about your family. Then, I want you to draw a picture of a vase that you think your family would like." The teacher walked to her desk at the front of the room. She put down the stack of papers, and picked up a vase from the top of her desk. She had brought the vase from her home and filled it with fresh flowers that very morning. Holding the vase aloft, she walked to the center of the room. "This is my vase," explained the teacher. "I like to keep it on my table at home, because I like the beautiful smell of flowers that fills my house. What kind of vase makes you think of your home?" "Draw a picture of a vase that reminds you of your home. We will put them up on the walls, so you will always have something beautiful in here that will remind you of your home. When you are done, bring your artwork up to me, and then you can go outside." Placing the vase back on her own desk, the teacher reminded the class, "Don't rush too quickly. Remember that we are going to put your vase on the wall for everyone to see. You may begin." The room was filled with the soft sounds of crayons on paper, little feet shuffling on the floor, and an occasional thoughtful humming sound from one of the students. It was a symphony of movement. Small fingers traced outlines with careful precision, and swept back-and-forth to fill the designs with color. Pages would be lifted, turned, and inspected from different angles to perfect flowers, stems, leaves, and the intricate designs that adorned the carefully crafted images. One by one, as each child finished, the pages were carefully carried to the front of the room. Each child waited eagerly for the confirmation, radiant smile, and compliments of the teacher. Not a single child was disappointed. The teacher accepted each project as if it were a priceless gift. The teacher shared a personal comment and excitement with each child, identifying something unique and individual about each vase and assortment of flowers. Some of the vases had images of people, like urns that had been adorned with images of Greek Gods. Other vases contained intricate patterns, as if inspired by Easter Eggs. For some of the children, the vase was small and indistinguishable amid the bountiful flowers that filled the page. Each project was unique, and each was beautiful. The room emptied except for one child who toiled in silence. The little hands did not sweep across the page in a glorious burst of colors, but rather traced shadows of lines with diligence and care. Every once in a while, the child would rest his head on one hand, as he studied the page and contemplated the next move of the crayon. As the minutes slowly passed, the child became gradually aware that he was the only person remaining in the room with the teacher. He put down the crayon and picked up the page. He stared at the vase for a few moments, as if contemplating to bring it up, or to continue working on it. After much deliberation, the child shuffled to the front of the room and placed the page in the hands of his teacher. The teacher was eager to see the outcome of this studious and thoughtful work of the student. Thinking that this would be the most stunningly beautiful drawing, she had imagined the things that she could say to reward the inspiration of the young artist. But when the page was in her hands, she stared quietly in confused silence. "You don't like it," said the child in unmasked disappointment. "Of course I like it," rebuked the teacher. "I love it." "Your vase is absolutely beautiful," exclaimed the teacher. "Did you want to draw some flowers in it, too?" "It won't hold any water," replied the child wistfully. The teacher thought about this and laughed a little. "Of course it will not hold real water. It is only a drawing," she said. "My vase cannot hold water, because it is cracked," explained the little boy. Wide brown eyes met the teacher's gaze. She followed his finger to trace the carefully drawn fissures that nearly split the vase in two. "My parents argue all the time," continued the little boy. "I know that it is not my fault, but our vase if broken. As long as it is broken, we cannot put the beautiful flowers in it, because they will die." The teacher stared in stunned silence at the image in her hands. She wanted to reach out and pick up the child in her embrace, and to tell him that everything would be alright, but the gesture would feel inadequate in comparison to the deep thought that had gone into this drawing. Despite the emotional surge, the teacher knew that she had to respond appropriately to the precious gift in her hands. "I have an idea," said the teacher, carefully selecting an assortment of yellow, orange, and brightly colored crayons. "Can you add a candle inside your vase?" The little boy turned his big brown eyes back to the eyes of the teacher. He could not disguise his confusion and interest. The teacher continued, "The candle will illuminate the cracks in the vase, so you can see them better. When you can see the cracks clearly, then you will know what you need to do about them. In the meantime, the candle will shine its light through the cracks, and it will fill the vase with warmth. It does not have to be full of flowers to be beautiful in some other special way." The little boy thought about what the teacher said, and a smile lit up his face. With a twinkle in his eye, the little boy excitedly collected the vibrant colored crayons from his teacher and raced back to his desk. He stared at the page carefully, contemplating his new approach to this project, and then worked furiously to illuminate even the farthest edges of the paper. As the child deposited the revised page in the hands of his teacher, he did not wait for her comments. Rather, he reached up placed his arms around the neck of his teacher, and gave her the most gentle of hugs. Then he raced out the door to join his fellow students on the playground. As promised, the artwork was diligently posted around the classroom. The drawings of flowers adorned the walls, but the teacher kept one particular drawing closest to her own desk. Sometimes, after the children had gone home for the day and the classroom was quiet, she would stare at that picture and reflect on the insight of the little boy. She wondered what she would say to the parents when the time came for them to visit the classroom, as would inevitably occur. It did not take long. As the teacher walked into the classroom, she saw the little boy standing in-between his parents, pointing at his artwork on the wall. She was stunned. She had often thought about how she would address his parents, and how she would explain the only empty vase. Looking at the expression on the faces of the adults, she knew that she would not have to explain, for the little boy had already done it. One of the most powerful gifts of children is the ability to be unashamedly honest. Although the cracked vase was never specifically mentioned, the conversation had the uncomfortable thin veil of politeness that concealed the deeper thoughts which remained largely unspoken between the adults. One afternoon a few days later, after all of the children had left for the day, the teacher once again let her mind and her eyes wander to the drawing of the cracked vase. She immediately noticed something wrong with the picture, and leaned over to get a closer look. Someone had colored in the bottom of the crack. It was very subtle. In fact, it had hardly changed at all, but she had stared at the picture so often that she could tell even the slightest change. Surely, someone had snuck into the room and colored the bottom of the crack. The teacher hoped that the little boy would not notice the act of vandalism. She carefully raised the picture a little higher on the wall, in an effort to keep it out of reach from any further abuse. Then she made it a point in her routine schedule to check on the vase every single day. To her amazement, someone continued to color-in the crack. It was never very much, just a little alteration every couple of days, but she could see the difference. The crack was slowly being filled. After several more days had passed, the teacher made a concerted effort to discover the person who was gradually altering this artwork. She had watched carefully in the morning and afternoons, but had been unable to catch the vandal at work. She decided to check on the room during the playground break, and was amazed to discover the same little boy as he walked quietly and diligently to his desk in the classroom. He carefully selected a handful of crayons, and then pulled the teacher's chair up against the wall beneath his drawing. Concentrating and gently biting on the tip of his tongue, he colored in the last of the fissure at the top of the vase. Then, he pulled out a green crayon and drew a long stem from the top of the vase, a stem that nearly reached the top of the paper. At the top of that long stem, he began to lovingly create soft orange and yellow petals. The boy completed his task without a word or a glance to either side. He was completely absorbed in his loving craft. The little boy put the crayons back in his desk, put the chair back at the teacher's desk, and walked toward the door. "Thank you for letting me use your chair, I could not get there on my own," said the little boy. "How do you like my sunflower?" ______________________________________________________ Words of Wisdom "I have learnt silence from the talkative, toleration from the intolerant, and kindness from the unkind; yet strange, I am ungrateful to these teachers." - Kahlil Gibran "The true aim of everyone who aspires to be a teacher should be, not to impart his own opinions, but to kindle minds." - Frederick William Robertson "An understanding heart is everything in a teacher, and cannot be esteemed highly enough. One looks back with appreciation to the brilliant teachers, but with gratitude to those who touched our human feeling. The curriculum is so much necessary raw material, but warmth is the vital element for the growing plant and for the soul of the child." - Carl Jung ______________________________________________________ - John Mehrmann, Author of The Trusted AdvocateL: Accelerate Success with Authenticity and Integrity John Mehrmann is author of The Trusted Advocate: Accelerate Success with Authenticity and Integrity. The book that is changing everything by reawakening personal values in business as a competitive edge