Memoir of A Teacher

A story of a little girl’s struggle to become a teacher during the Dutch occupation in Indonesia.

HOW IT ALL STARTED

My name is Suparmi. I was born in Indonesia in 1920, during the Dutch occupation in East Indie (Indonesia). Since I was little, I’ve always wanted to be a teacher. I wasn’t really sure where my passion came from. Maybe it’s from the moment when I saw my elementary school teachers’ eyes sparkled when they were teaching us; maybe from knowing that they can afford to live in a real brick house; or maybe from my funny great grandmother, who always teased me and called me “Jeng Guru” (Indonesian for “Mrs. Teacher”) since I was only 3 years old (she died when I was 15), which was an impossible occupation for a girl with my status at that time. But indeed, I knew one thing for sure. I would do anything to be a teacher.

No women in my family could read. Women simply didn’t go to school. There’s no such thing like it. Schooling was only for the Dutch and “priyayi” (the Indonesian aristocrats/upper class). And most of it, in general, school (especially the higher level) was only for the men. There was no place for women.

My mother was a “mlijo” (a low level fruit and vegetables merchant woman in farmer markets). She woke up at 4am every morning and got ready for work. The market open at 6am and she would sit on her little booth, selling spices and some local fruit and vegetables that she picked from our backyard earlier that day. She worked hard but didn’t make a lot. She often said that she’s happy with it, because it was her destiny. Woman was only responsible to raise the family and kept their husband happy. And that’s what I should do too when I grow up. Whether she’s really happy with her life or she’s happy because she didn’t know any other way of living, I don’t know.

If there was anybody in our family who thought that education for women was actually a good thing, it was my father; a quiet, warm hearted man who loved his family with his whole heart. He was a police officer in our small town. He was not a high-ranked officer, but he made enough for our family to survive.

We were not rich. We lived in a small 5x5m house, made of weaved bamboo and cheap wood, which was divided into 2 rooms; a living room where we did all of our activities during the day, and one bedroom where the three of us slept together on a weaved-bamboo bed with no mattress. Houses made from weaved bamboo is cheap, but surely not the best. I remember having to put our pots and pans under every leak in our house every time there was a heavy rain, trying to keep our floor and our possessions dry, eventhough there were not so many of them.

The kitchen was located outside of the house. We didn’t have a bathroom, only a little “out house”. There was only one well at the village that everybody used to get clean water for cooking and washing.

We didn’t have a lot of furniture. All we have were two benches made from cheap wood, a table, and a “balai-balai” (a bamboo sleep platform) which the three of us slept on. It’s hard and uncomfortable, but you just got used to it. The most expensive furniture in our house was the multi function table, made from solid teak wood. It was a gift from a relative. We kept our clothes (there’s not so many of them anyway, each of us only had 2 pairs of clothes) in a “besek”, a box made of cheaply woven bamboo.

But despite of all the difficulties, we were a happy family. After dinner, we would sit around the table; I’d be doing my homework, Dad would tell us stories about things that happened at the town that day, and Mom would do some sewing. Once in a while Dad would ask me questions about my school. He always showed interest in my schooling and things that I learned. I still treasure those moments.

We live in a small village. In 1920s there’s no school for children there. To go to Sekolah Rakyat (similar to elementary school) and Sekolah Kop (similar to high school) we have to walk to the closest city about 1.5 hours away walking distance, with no shoes whatsoever. Shoes or any other footwear were luxury. Only Dad had a pair to go to work. Mom and I never had any.

I didn’t mind all that. I love school so much that those things never bothered me. During the monsoon period, I remember cutting a big banana leaf and use it as an umbrella when it’s raining, and trying to run as fast as possible on the hot dirt road to get to the nearest creek so I can dip my burning feet into the cold water during the hot dry season.

We didn’t have books. For school Dad bought me a sabak and gripp (some kind of blackboard of the size of a notebook and special chalk that pupils used before paper and pencil were introduced). I would write the lesson of the day and my homework on it, and bring it home to study and memorize them, and then erase everything in the morning, ready for the new lesson. We had to have a good memory to go to school those days. Not until grade five that we started to use a real paper notebook and pencil.

THE OPPORTUNITY

It was 1934, I was 16. In 6 months I will graduate from Sekolah Kop (high school). I felt a lot of things, anxious, happy, and sad. I was happy because it was a big accomplishment for me, despite of all the hardship; I managed to finish school with high marks. In fact I got a lot of compliments from my teachers. But I was also sad because I will miss school tremendously. My heart ached every time I thought about it. I feel anxious because I know what was waiting for me when I graduate: marriage.

My mom said that Bin, the eldest son of our neighbor has been asking a lot about me. Indistinctly, he showed interest to have me as his wife. I actually think he’s a nice guy. Not really the kind of guy that will attract girls on the street; he’s an average looking guy, but boy can he sweep a girl off her feet. He showered me with gifts and compliments. On nights when we sat on the bench in front of my house, he whispered me his plans for both of us, and how happy we would be together. Sometimes he would try to steal a kiss from me, which I refused with blushed face.

I grew very fond of him. He’s always been nice and gentle to me. He promised to build a house for both of us when we get married, and a happy family together. My parents were happy too. My mom said that she’s already reserved one spot next to her booth in the farmer market so I can open my own booth there.

But beneath it all, I was unsettled. There’s an itch in my heart saying there should be more than this in life for me. But there was no other option at that time. There was neither more schooling nor career for girls.

Until one day my teacher mentioned about Meisjes Normal School, a four year teaching school for girls established and subsidized by the Dutch government.

(Note: The Dutch occupied Indonesia for 350 years. They first came on 1600’s, in search of rich areas of spices and other natural resources to be colonized. In early 1900 a group of Dutch concerned people pushed their government and said that the Dutch has been taking so much from its colonized land, and that the government should do more to improve the life quality of the indigenous people there. A little number of schools was built for locals in Indonesia, and Meisjes Normal School was one of them. But still, not many Indonesians could afford to attend it. Only “priyayi” (Indonesian aristocrat) and a few others rich can afford to send their kids to the Dutch schools).

My heart leaped. After class I came to see my teacher and asked him more information about it. He told me that it’s girls only Dutch boarding school, located in Blitar, a city about 3 hours by bus from Madiun, my city, and there they will educate and train young girls like me to be school teachers. He told me that the school is very strict in keeping its high standard: the entrance test is super hard and the life there won’t be easy, but I didn’t hear any of that. All I knew was there IS a chance for me to make my dream come true. There IS something more for me in this life. I knew I wanted it.

I ran almost all the way home, couldn’t wait to tell my parents and Bin about it. But I ran into disappointment. My parents weren’t too happy about it. My mom said that school is only for men. Girls are supposed to be married and taking care of her family; that’s my role, and she went on and on with that. My Dad was quiet. For the first time I couldn’t read his expression. The only thing he said was, “It must be very expensive”.

Bin didn’t understand why I was so excited about it. He doesn’t understand why I want to spend another 4 years in school while I already have everything that a girl wants (or what he thought it is).

I cried quietly that night, feeling frustrated of knowing that there is a possibility for me to be something that I’ve always wanted, but the obstacles seemed like mountains in my way. Seemed like there’s no way I have it. I cried myself to sleep.

The next day I made a decision. I came to school earlier to see my teacher and told him that I want to take the entrance test for the school. My teacher told me that the test is only 3 months away; it’s extremely difficult and even though I’m one of his best students, there’s no way I can prepare myself for it in less than 3 months. I didn’t care. I told him that one way or another I’ll do it. He finally gave in. He registered me for the test.

Three months later, I was sitting in a classroom, doing the test with other girls from my province who wanted the same thing I do. It felt like forever. My teacher was right. The test was very difficult. The same test was being held in every province all over the country, and the school usually will only take maximum four girls from every province/area. When I finished the test I felt totally drained. I was excited and worried at the same time. I didn’t tell my parents that I took the test.

Weeks passed by as I grew anxious about the result. My mom has started talking about my wedding. She told me that eventhough we don’t have a lot, she wants me, her only child, to have a wedding, even only for a small one. I haven’t told anyone about the test.

Then the day came when my teacher hurriedly found me to tell me the news: I got accepted, me and two others from our province. He was so excited because never before has one of his students made it to that school. He thought it was a great opportunity for me. I was ecstatic of the news, but also felt uneasy of having to bring the news to my parents.

Mom was upset when I told her the news. Dad looked proud but also sad at the same time. He said, “Nduk ( a call for a young girl), how can we pay for that? As much as I want you to go, we can’t afford it.”

It took me a while to digest those words, and then when they seeped in, I broke down. I never cried in front of my parents before. No matter how hard our life was, we are one happy family. That was the first time in my life that I felt angry of being poor. I’ve tried everything I can and I actually made it, but now I have to kiss my dreams goodbye. Never had I felt so helpless. Then we never talked about it in the family.

A couple weeks went by when my teacher asked me how’s my preparation for Blitar going; and told him that I’m not going because I can’t afford it. He looked confused and said, “What do you mean? Your father just came and he gave me the money for the school. You’re going!” I found out after that my father sold our teak table and borrowed money from his brother, even though he had to lower his pride, so that I could go to that school.

A month later I graduated from Sekolah Kop and I was on my way to my new life. My mother, father, and Bin, who was then my fiancé, took me to the train station. My mother kept on crying, and I can see that my Dad was holding back his tears. Bin promised me that we’re gonna get married right after I graduate.

Blitar is a small quiet city located on the south east of Jawa Island. It was my first time away from my family, so I felt a little nervous. Then I saw my new school for the first time. It was amazing. A “U shaped” brick building with high ceiling, clean and carefully organized. The classrooms were located in the middle (in the bottom of the “U”), and dormitory for the girls were located on the wings side. The school was also equipped with a big swimming pool and an equipped gymnastic hall.

The school looked like a fortress. With 24 hour guards, nobody was allowed to enter the school without permission and nobody is allowed to leave the school without special permission either. The girls were only allowed to leave the school once a year to visit their family.

There were total 160 girls from all over Indonesia, divided into 4 class; 40 girls in each class. Most of our teachers were Dutch, only a few were Indonesians.

My daily schedule was as follow:

05.00 à gymnastics or swimming; 06.00 à bell for shower; 06.30 à bell for breakfast (rice, egg, and sambal); 07.00 à bell to enter morning class; 09.00 à bell for morning break (get a bowl of green bean porridge); 09.30 à bell for noon class ; 13.00 à bell for lunch (rice, meat, tempe, tofu, vegetable, fruit, and milk); 13.30 à bell for noon break; 14.30 à bell for shower; 15.00 à bell for afternoon class; 17.30 à bell for dinner; 18.30 à bell for study time, watched over by a teacher; 21.00 à bell to sleep.

For four years, our life was organized by the bell. Discipline was really important. It was a tough life, but I enjoyed it so much that I never felt it as hard. In fact, I enjoyed every minute that I spent there. There was so much to learn, there were so many interesting books that I wanted to read; history, literature, mathematic, and many others that I felt like I just don’t have enough time.

We had to do gymnastic every morning. Swimming is scheduled twice a week. I never swam before (we don’t have lake or beach in Madiun) and I’m terrified of drowning. My friends often made fun of me. We have free time during the weekends while the girls can use the recreational room to relax, play games, play music, or just chat. It’s equipped with a ping-pong table, a gramophone, and games like chess and many others.

I was also driven to be number one in my class. I knew how hard my parents have to work so they can send me here. I didn’t want to disappoint them. I wanted to be the best teacher so I can help other Indonesian students and pay my due to my parents. I remember that I often “cheating studying” because of that. We were not allowed to study during our free time, but I will cover my book with a magazine and read it during the break, and if teacher came to check on us, I will walk to the girls who’re playing game and pretended to be part of it.

I did very well at school. Even after three years, I still can keep my marks high. I was the best student in Math. I got 9 (out of 10) in every subject but fitness (I got 7), since I did very poorly in swimming. Just another year to go, I was very excited. I will graduate, get married, and be a teacher. Life seemed so perfect for me, but it seemed like God wanted to test me again.

I still remember that day. It was a long weekend, and many of the girls took the opportunity to go home, visiting their family. I was actually planning to just stay at school and read. But the Mrs. Jan, the headmaster of the school, a warm hearted woman, advised me to go home for this week, visiting my family, because it’s been a while since the last time I see them. So I packed some books to study while I’m there and some gifts for my mom and dad. I took the next train to Madiun and arrived there around afternoon.

Nobody picked me up at the station because I didn’t even have the chance to send news.

I took a “becak” (some kind of a rickshaw in Indonesia, but instead of pulling the cart, the driver is pedaling from behind) to my house, and I was exited about to see my family.

When the becak approached my house, I was surprised to see a lot of activities and people around my area. It seems like they’re preparing for a celebration, but how come I didn’t know anything about it?

My father was standing in front of the house when I arrived. He saw the becak approaching the house with me in it, and at once he walked towards me. He helped me get off the becak, kissed my cheeks, and said that he’s surprised to see me. I told him that we have a long break and I decided to visit them. I was very happy to see him again. He looked older, but still my hero, a big hearted strong man that I’ve always adore. I showed him the gift that I brought for him and mom, and I kept ciphering away about how happy I was to see him, about how much I like my school.

I was content, but something was wrong. Somewhat Dad looked uneasy. Then I asked him what’s going on in our neighborhood and why it’s unusually busy.

Dad holds my hands and asked me if I read his last letter. I haven’t; apparently the mail was late. Dad looked very sad, he’s brushing my hair with his hand and said, “my pretty daughter, my little girl, you’ve been through so much…”. And then he told me the news.

Today was Bin’s wedding. Yes, Bin, my beloved fiancé, who promised me to get married after I graduate. Only one more year and we’re supposed to be together, but apparently, his heart changed.

I felt so confused, it didn’t seem real to me. I still remember standing in front of the house with my father holding my hands, feeling like it was all just a bad dream. I could hear my father telling me that his parents came to him last week, apologizing about their son’s behavior. He met the girl at the city and suddenly fell madly in love with her. They were going to get married in a week. Dad sent me a letter to tell me the news, but I never got it.

I thought I was dreaming when I felt my father’s hands holding mine tighter. Then I knew it wasn’t. I wanted to cry, but I just couldn’t. I felt like a puppet. I can hear myself saying that I’m going back to Blitar because I have to study. I gave the gifts to my Dad, and walked back to the becak, informing the driver that I want to go back to the train station.

My Dad was confused for a moment, but then he put the gifts away and ran after me. He got on the becak, sitting next to me, and asked the driver to start going. We didn’t talk, but he put his arm around me just like he used to do when I was little, all the way to the station. Then I started to cry quietly.

I was devastated, but I didn’t let myself down because of it. I vowed that I will make my life and my family’s life better, no matter what. I studied like crazy. I used all my disappointments as fuel to propel me towards my goal.

HOW IT TURNED OUT

I graduated on 1938 and went back to my village in Madiun. Just within 3 days, I got a job offer to teach in a school in Madiun. My first salary was 40 Gulden (Dutch currency, you can buy a cow with 10 Gulden). I bought new clothes for my parents and me with that money. I also took them to a restaurant for the first time.

Within less than 2 years, I managed to buy a house, a real brick house with tile roof that wouldn’t leak even during the heaviest rain. The house was big enough for me and my parents to live. They lived with me until the end of their lives.

I can proudly say now that I made it. I became a respectable teacher, and then a headmaster, and was able to send my daughters to the best school. One of them is a law lecturer and an activist for women’s rights. My granddaughter won a scholarship that sent her to study in Canada. Not too bad for a girl who didn’t even have shoes to walk to school.

The highlight of my career was when the Indonesian government finally built a school to train teachers, they choose me to lead the program. I became the teacher of future teachers. And I was really proud of my work, as I see it making “domino effect”. More girls in my country now have access to education. One thing I always reminded my teacher students was: appreciate each student, every single one of them. Encourage them to dream big, because every child is special, and any one of them has the potential to change the future.

About my love life, it’s a happy ending too. I met my future husband then, when I went to the government office to take my first pay cheque. He’s a very handsome man who worked there. He was responsible for the all teachers’ salaries. At first I didn’t even pay attention to him because I knew many good looking guys were never serious about relationship. But it was weird, he asked me a lot of questions, he said it’s for administrative purpose, before he approved the cheque.

The next day, he showed up at my work with a bunch of flower, asking me out. We got married in less than 6 months, and we lived happily until he died of an accident. We have 2 wonderful daughters and seven grandkids.

On some nights, I still remember how we used to walk holding hands under the moonlight. Indeed, he’s still alive within my heart.