Tag Archives: job

I Hated Teaching in The Past, But I Love It Today!

I love Teaching!
I love Teaching!

Image credit: http://wasathon.com/oase/view/2012/07/05/berapa_generasi_yang_harus_muslimah_lahirkan

“I’m a teacher, and I hope you’ll be a good teacher my daughter!” said my Dad.
“I’m sorry, Dad! I don’t love teaching. I have other dream. I wanna be a secretary.”
“No problem! You have freedom to improve yourself. Our prayers for you!”

It was a simple dialogue between my Dad and I 17 years ago. I do remember it well. I was 19 years in that time, and I was immature. I thought that I’d be different with my father. I really didn’t like teaching. Standing in front of the students, teach them, weren’t my dream.

After finishing my senior high school, I got many brochures from a few universities, but I didn’t accept their offerings. I had to see the budget for my education, and I didn’t want to burden my parents with my university cost. In the end, I accepted my parent’s suggestion to continue my study to Institute Dirosah Al-Islamiyah Al-Amien, Madura East Java. I lived and learned there. Guess, what I learned there! I learned Islamic teaching….Yes, teaching method , dear friends. He…he.

Time by time, my dream has changed. I tried to love teaching activity. I had ever been asked by a mentor from CNI about my dream. I answered proudly, “I want to be a good educator!”

My dream became true! Alhamdulillah!

Before joined to Ad-da’wah where I teach at, I had ever hunted other jobs to many factories, and all my applications were rejected. 😀
The securities of a factory (I don’t remember the name of that factory) said to me after reading and checking my application, “The suitable job for you is teaching, because your writing, your language and your intelligence have told us that you’re like a teacher.”
I’m a teacher, and I love my job. I love my students and so do they.
I joined to Ad-da’wah in 2006-2012. I left it for 2 years to accompany and to teach my son at home. Then I’m back again to school (my job) till now.
I believe in Allah, I got it because of the prayers of my parents and Allah has accepted their prayers. Alhamdulillah! (All praise is due to Allah)

A little note: My dad became a teacher for 40 years. He had passed away in August 9th, 2014.
My prayer for him always!

May 15 Limits: First Person

The Prompt
Write A Story In the First Person

“O, Allah! Yassirlana umuurona! Yasirlana umuurona!”

I don’t know what I have to do now. I don’t know the way to find much money to help my family. My wife just asked me money to buy some food and to treat our daughter. She is getting problem with her bronchial tube. I’m only a shop keeper, and my salary isn’t enough to recover all our needs.

Abi, we have to take Zainab to hospital. She isn’t getting well. I’m worried about her!” Salma told me about Zainab. It was heartbreaking. I said to please her heart and trying to give her hope, “Insha’Allah, I’ll find other job to get much money. Please pray for me! I’ll go now, Umi! Take care!” After kissing my wife and my daughter, I left the house to find other job. I have to do it for my family.

Finding job for men in this country is really difficult. Most of factories need women worker than men. It isn’t fair for men. I was graduated from Indonesian University, Information Management Program. But, I wasn’t lucky, my certificate was burnt when the fire burnt our house five years ago. My parents were died, and so my younger sister Aisha. I lost all my family in that accident. I was very sad, I couldn’t save my family and all the property.
I knew it was test from Allah and I accepted my life today.
It was sad to remember my past, I have to face my life today. My family needs much money now.

“O, Allah, help me to face this life! Guide me, O Allah!”
Untill dzuhur prayer, I didn’t find a job yet. I decided to take pray in Masjid. When I put my shoes on the rack, I heard someone called my name.
“Samir, you’re here? Hey do you remember me? I’m Musa, your close friend in University.”
I hunted about for the voice, and I saw a tall man with white skin was standing in front of me, “masha’Allah Musa, is it really you? Allah blesses you my brother!”
“Alhamdulillah, it’s very nice to see you here!”
Finally, we talked a lot after praying. He told me everything, about his business and his success life. He asked me a lot. I told him a little of my life, I didn’t want to share my sadness and my hardship to others even to my closest friend.
“I can see your hardship from your eyes, Samir. Please do tell it to me. Perhaps I can help you!” Musa asked me again. And I told him.
“Actually, I want to help you, Samir. I need a smart worker to manage my factory in Surabaya. Can you join with me?” Musa gave his idea to help me.
“O, I lost my certificate, Musa. I can’t leave my family for this time. I still have other job as a shopkeeper.”
“I don’t need your certificate, I only need your skill Samir! Please think about it!”
“I can leave my job next month, friend. I have to treat my daughter first.” I explained about my affairs.
“I have doubt about it if you wait till next month. O, wait…! I have other idea.” Musa lower his voice.
“I have friend whom need many workers this time. This job is very easy. You only have to deliver something to consumers.”
“What’s job, Musa?” I was interested with his idea.
“Be a courier. You can contact him if you’re interested.” Musa gave me a name card. I said many thanks to him.


Today was the third day I did my new job. It was really very simple job. I was like a postman. The different were I was paid everyday and I got some tips from my consumers.
I have delivered almost the packets. I still have three packets in baggage. I really loved this job. Tom, Musa’s friend was very kind. He gave me a motorcycle as my facility and had paid 50% of my salary in the first day. Alhamdulillah, I could take my daughter to hospital to get good treatment. Her mother and her uncle are accompanying her in hospital. Alhamdulillah for everything.

The traffic today was very crowded. Oh, I saw many policemen on cross road. I thought there was a raid. I drove my motor cycle slowly.
“Stop your motor, please park it here!” One of the policemen asked me to park my motor beside the road.
“Show me your identity, please!”
I show all my identity cards and driver’s license. “Complete! Now, please open the baggage!”
I did his order, “Only packets, Sir! I’m a courier!”
“Okay, I’ll open the packets!” He said again.
“Wait, Sir! There aren’t mine. Please don’t open them! It’s my responsibility to deliver them to the consumers.” I did mind with his order.
“Do you know what are they?”
I shook my head. I didn’t understand with his asking.
“You’ll be known in a few minutes, I’ll open them.” He asked to open the packet compulsively. I gave up with that situation.
“They’re narcotics! You can see them, Man!”
“Masha’Allah! I can’t believe it! They aren’t mine Sir! I swear by name of Allah, these packets aren’t mine!”
“You can explain about it in court, next! Now follow us to the Police office!”
“Sir, listen to me, please! I have family, my daughter is in hospital with my wife. I have to help them. If you catch me, so who will keep my family? Who will help them to pay the treatment? Who will…….” I protested with their decision.
“Pay your lawyer to help you!”


I can’t believe it. Musa, my closest friend has thrown me into jail. He sent me Tom to give me job. And I was so stupid accepted their offering. If I didn’t meet Musa, I’d be there accompany my lovely daughter in hospital. Allah, give me patience to pass this test. I’m Harun in jail now, in the cold place. I’ve failed to be a good father and a good husband! Forgive me O, Allah! Forgive me Salma! Forgive me my love Zainab! Forgive me, forgive me please!!! I was crying there mourned for my bad life.

The Loser, Day 3 – Limits: 640 Words

This is the second of our recurring “limits” posts. As the month progresses you’ll come across all sorts of limits: time, word count, point of view, structure. If you get stuck, try rewriting an earlier story in a new way, using these ‘limits’ posts.

The Prompt
Write a story in 640 words

I am really upset, now. I have many problems. Allah isn’t fear to me. Why Allah always give me hardship. I am bored! I feel I stay in a narrow room. It is not a room, it’s a cave! I can’t see my light!

“ I HATE MY LIFE!” I kicked a wall of my room.
“HEY! KEEP SILENT! The wall doesn’t have any mistakes! You’re CRAZY, Man!” Zaid, my youngest brother protested my action. I’m mad at him. “It is not YOUR BUSINESS! Keep your words, Okay!”
“It’s my business, you have disturbed many people here! Our Mom and I are disturbed by you! It’s better for you to leave this house. You’re a trouble maker! You’re a bad brother for me! I don’t want to see your face! You’re the LOSER!
Zaid didn’t reply my word. He leaved me quickly. His bad words had made me very angry. I took my jacket and leaved the house. I saw Momma in the door of her room. She is gaping at me.

I’m sorry Mom, I have to go now.


I drove my Tiger fast to mountain. I loved nature. I liked to spend my times at beach, or mountain when I had a problem. I usually get peace there. I enjoyed the amazing pictures in front of me, the beautiful mountain. The wind was blowing breeze, it made me fresh. I ignited my Marlboro. It was very delicious. I am an active smoker. Marlboro is the best cigarette. I inhaled it enjoyably. I loved to play with its smokes. I saw the beautiful face of Asma my girlfriend. I heard her nice voice in my heart.

Zidane, I really love you! I’ll wait you patiently. I want to be your first and your last wife.
Asma, where are you now? I really missed you. I….
Then I saw Ziad my elder brother in that smoke, a great steel-manufacturer in Java. He is very individualist. He didn’t care his brothers and his parents. He only cares his business and himself. Bad man!

I can get my success because of my work. I have worked hard. You must work hard as I did. If not, so you will be a loser.

I AM NOT THE LOSER! I AM THE WINNER!!! I yelled out loudly. I hate that word. Zaid and Ziad called me the loser.
I heard the other voice. Voice of Zaid.

Yes, you’re a loser. Bye-bye loser!

I was broken heart to hear their bad voices. I hate my life! I need someone to talk. I’ll talk to Andre, my classmate in Senior High School. Now, he works as a taxi driver in Jakarta. I must go there.


“Do you know the reasons, why your brothers called you a loser?” Andre asked me when I talked him all my problems.

“I’m jobless, so that they called me a loser. I hate them!”
“Why you don’t find a job?”
“It’s hard Andre. I’m not like you! I want a good job, a good position, Man!” I explained my dream about jobs to him.
“Those are the problems. Please see yourself, your ability, your special skill. Then try to apply jobs! You must try it, Zidane!” Andre advised me to find jobs soon. He looked up me, and said, “If you want I can help you to connect you to my Boss. What do you think about it?”
“Thanks Andre, I’ll think first.” Actually I didn’t feel interest to be a taxi driver. It was low level of jobs.
“I got you, friend! Please remember, you can remove your bad label. Firstly, you must remove your ego. Don’t think about good level job, but complete your skill first! You can, Zidane!” Andre supported me well.
I remembered his advice.
Can I remove that label?
Andre said, “YES, YOU CAN!”