CHAPTER FOUR: CIRCLE ALL THE A-s
To tell the truth, I’m not afraid of being scolded. But if someone scolds me about something I don’t know or understand, I’ll be very afraid.
Like that day, Prof. McGonagall looked rather furious, and I grew scared. The whole class must be scared because their heads were low and everyone was quiet.
Prof. McGonagall’s voice was very high and loud, not like the usual. She was shouting as she flipped the test papers on her table, yelling, “75, 58, 33, 40…Humph! What kind of result is this!”
She flipped the last paper and her voice was as high as those Chinese opera singers when she cried, “Zero! A huge empty zero! Ronald Weasley, why are you in my class!”
How am I supposed to know? The school put me here.
Again, she exclaimed, “For this revision exam, our First Year-Slytherdor got the last place among all the classes, thanks a lot to Ronald Weasley.”
As she threw the paper off her table, she looked as if she wanted to burst into big fat tears, “I get laughed and mocked at by the other professors…I’m so jinxed…”
I might be scared but I have to get the paper back. It was the test on Math and on it, other than my name, was a total blank.
I wanted to write something. I really do. I just didn’t know what to write. I thought long and hard, but by the time I got an idea of what to write, the bell had rung and my paper was taken away.
During recess, Prof. McGonagall didn’t look angry anymore. She drank a whole glass of water, then signaled me to get some more.
She pointed at my test paper and said, “Tomorrow, there will be another monthly test, Ronald. I’ll teach you how not to get anymore zeros.”
It was quite easy, really. Just look for the parts that had the ABCD-s, then draw a circle on all the capital A-s and I’m done.
She chuckled to herself and said, “This is definitely a no-brainer. In every test paper, there would always be a multiple-choice question section, and in every multiple-choice question, some of them have got to have an A for an answer. That way, you might be able to guess a few; if you’re lucky, you might get even higher marks!”
I definitely can draw circles, so I promised her I’ll draw as well as I can.
For the next day’s test, my mood was great because I won’t be as bored as before. I finally had something to do. At every part with the ABCD-s, I drew a very round circle on the A-s. When I accidentally drew a crooked one, I erased it and drew again.
When it’s time to get back the papers, Prof. McGonagall wasn’t angry anymore. In fact, she was all smiles when she told the class, “I’m such a gifted teacher. Do you know how much Ronald Weasley got for his Math test, class?”
Then she announced loudly, “12! 3 correctly guessed questions for all multiple-choice sections! Ronald Weasley, you’re a genius!”
I laughed awkwardly.
The most awkward time was during Biology class. Prof. Sprout scolded the class, saying, “Multiple-choice question number 3, everyone got the wrong answer. Only Ronald Weasley got it right. Are you all retards?”
Draco Malfoy didn’t look very happy when he muttered, “That weasel only made a lucky guess.”
Prof. Sprout got even madder, “If you think you’ll do any better, then make your own lucky guess. If you get it right or wrong, your marks shows how lucky you are.”
I’m glad I could come to school and have teachers teaching me how to study and how to take exams. But I can’t be too proud.
I know what ‘proud’ means. It means someone saying that they understand everything. I can’t be proud, because I know I don’t understand anything.
Harry Scarface said, “You know what, Ron? Some people don’t even understand that concept!”
See? I don’t even understand what Harry Scarface is trying to say.
Monday, March 6, 2006
Ronald Weasley's Diary-Chp 3
CHAPTER THREE: I HAVE TO STUDY HARD
Prof. McGonagall came to Mother’s waffle shop one day and kinda gave her a fright.
“I came for a family interview. Ronald must’ve forgotten to tell you.”
Mother turned and gave me a look, then sighed and said, “I know that kid’s a little dumb, but I told him to be good. If he’s naughty, feel free to beat him.”
Prof. McGonagall shook her head, “No, no, he’s very good. Although his mentality is not high—about 70, if I’m not mistaken—and belongs to the ‘Learning Deficiency’ category, but if he’s taught well, he can improve.”
Mother wiped her sweat a little and replied, “I hope you can teach him well. How about some waffles? You look like you need something for the stomach.”
Prof. McGonagall left without eating. Mother’s waffles are very good actually, especially when she pours two big spoonfuls of maple syrup.
As she watched Prof. McGonagall leave, Mother said to me, “See how much your professor cares for you, Ron? She even came to our home. She said you’re…well, whatever category was that she said, I forgot. You have to study hard if you want to improve.”
Like, no duh. Of course I want to study hard. Whenever class starts, I sit up real straight and listen real hard, but I don’t understand a friggin’ thing. I don’t even understand what is written on the blackboard. So sometimes I would fall asleep.
No more sleeping in class. I gotta start studying hard.
So I did. During Prof. Binns’ History class, I took out my textbook and pointed at the words with my finger, counting them one by one from left to right. Once I’ve reached a hundred, I counted again from one. I counted very hard and I never slept.
When Prof. Binns started writing words on the blackboard, the students began copying them into their books. So I quickly took out my pencil and looked hard. Finally I found three words that I know. I lowered my head and wrote big, one and man.
When I wanted to look for more words, Prof. Binns had already rubbed them off and wrote other stuff.
I drew beards on the people in my book with my pencil and drew guns for them. I know Mother is going to give me a wallop if she knew I drew these, so I quickly erased them. I tried looking for more words and found the same big, one and man words there. I quickly copied them on the next page.
For this class I didn’t fall asleep. I’m glad.
Harry Scarface said, “You can’t learn anything in a normal class. You should be in special class.”
“Mother said that there’s no special classes in seventh grade or any other high schools.”
“Then it’s the government’s fault, they owe you too much.” Hearing Harry Scarface say that kinda shocked me. But don’t worry, I won’t look for that ‘Mr. Government’ guy for revenge.
I said, “Prof. McGonagall came to my home that day and told Mother that if I study real hard, I can improve.”
I don’t know what ‘improve’ means, but I bet it’s a good thing.
Harry Scarface chuckled, “You are so naïve!”
I took out my book and showed him the words that I’ve copied in every page. Harry Scarface patted me on the shoulder and said, “Actually, judging by your heart, you’re way smarter than most people.”
I chuckled along with him. I like him patting my shoulder.
Prof. McGonagall came to Mother’s waffle shop one day and kinda gave her a fright.
“I came for a family interview. Ronald must’ve forgotten to tell you.”
Mother turned and gave me a look, then sighed and said, “I know that kid’s a little dumb, but I told him to be good. If he’s naughty, feel free to beat him.”
Prof. McGonagall shook her head, “No, no, he’s very good. Although his mentality is not high—about 70, if I’m not mistaken—and belongs to the ‘Learning Deficiency’ category, but if he’s taught well, he can improve.”
Mother wiped her sweat a little and replied, “I hope you can teach him well. How about some waffles? You look like you need something for the stomach.”
Prof. McGonagall left without eating. Mother’s waffles are very good actually, especially when she pours two big spoonfuls of maple syrup.
As she watched Prof. McGonagall leave, Mother said to me, “See how much your professor cares for you, Ron? She even came to our home. She said you’re…well, whatever category was that she said, I forgot. You have to study hard if you want to improve.”
Like, no duh. Of course I want to study hard. Whenever class starts, I sit up real straight and listen real hard, but I don’t understand a friggin’ thing. I don’t even understand what is written on the blackboard. So sometimes I would fall asleep.
No more sleeping in class. I gotta start studying hard.
So I did. During Prof. Binns’ History class, I took out my textbook and pointed at the words with my finger, counting them one by one from left to right. Once I’ve reached a hundred, I counted again from one. I counted very hard and I never slept.
When Prof. Binns started writing words on the blackboard, the students began copying them into their books. So I quickly took out my pencil and looked hard. Finally I found three words that I know. I lowered my head and wrote big, one and man.
When I wanted to look for more words, Prof. Binns had already rubbed them off and wrote other stuff.
I drew beards on the people in my book with my pencil and drew guns for them. I know Mother is going to give me a wallop if she knew I drew these, so I quickly erased them. I tried looking for more words and found the same big, one and man words there. I quickly copied them on the next page.
For this class I didn’t fall asleep. I’m glad.
Harry Scarface said, “You can’t learn anything in a normal class. You should be in special class.”
“Mother said that there’s no special classes in seventh grade or any other high schools.”
“Then it’s the government’s fault, they owe you too much.” Hearing Harry Scarface say that kinda shocked me. But don’t worry, I won’t look for that ‘Mr. Government’ guy for revenge.
I said, “Prof. McGonagall came to my home that day and told Mother that if I study real hard, I can improve.”
I don’t know what ‘improve’ means, but I bet it’s a good thing.
Harry Scarface chuckled, “You are so naïve!”
I took out my book and showed him the words that I’ve copied in every page. Harry Scarface patted me on the shoulder and said, “Actually, judging by your heart, you’re way smarter than most people.”
I chuckled along with him. I like him patting my shoulder.
Sunday, March 5, 2006
Ronald Weasley's Diary-Chp 2
CHAPTER TWO: I’M HAPPY
“If someone calls you a retard, you’re supposed to be angry, don’t laugh,” Harry Scarface told me one day.
I nodded. But then I thought of something, “If it’s you who call me that, I won’t be angry.”
Harry Scarface nodded too.
But still, I immediately ran into trouble.
During French class, our French teacher Prof. Flitwick taught us how to say ‘Hello’ in French. I followed exactly what everyone read ‘Bon-sure, Bon-sure’, yet the teacher said I read it wrong.
He stood in front of me, lowered her head and let me see his lips.
“See? You have to pronounce the J and the Sh at the same time and not read out the R.”
He looked almost like those kissing fish I see in TV.
I tried real hard to follow him. I curled my lips so high that my drool almost sprayed out, yet he still wasn’t satisfied. He yelled angrily, “What is it with you? Why can’t you learn a single thing I’m teaching you? You retard!”
I don’t know if I should be angry or not.
I asked Harry Scarface about it during recess and he answered me with a troubled look, “Teachers are different from us; they can do whatever they want. There’s nothing we can do.”
Our English teacher, who’s also our class teacher—Miss Minerva McGonagall—treats me better. She gave me an exercise book with a lot of lines in it and asked me to copy words for the day’s class chapter. While the others read and discuss the chapters, I’ll be copying them.
I’m really good at copying. When I was in grade school, my teacher would let me copy words, line after line. I’ve forgotten what those words were though, or else I could write them for Harry Scarface to see and prove that I’m really good at copying.
To be honest, I love school. Summer holidays are boring with nothing but TV to watch. Mother never lets me go to the waffle shop. I want to help her serve waffles, but she never agrees. She would always scold me and say, “Do you want the whole world to know that I have a retarded son?”
That’s a really tough question. I never know how to answer that. I always thought that if Mother knew that I was a retard, then she didn’t have to give birth to me. But maybe she didn’t know that I would be one.
When I’m at school, I have Harry Scarface to talk to. Sometimes, girls would come and talk to me, but I can’t really understand what they’re saying, so all I can do is laugh.
Our class monitor is the world’s most beautiful girl named Hermione Granger. Harry Scarface also agreed that she’s pretty. But she’s a fierce girl and often scolds and yells at Draco Malfoy—the yellow-haired boy. Sometimes she scolds me, but she never calls me a retard. She remembers my name.
My job in class is to get water. The students in my class are heavy drinkers and they drain their cups within minutes. Prof. McGonagall would always say, “It’s class time, so the kitchen won’t have many people. Go get us water before they run out of it.”
I would then grab the kettle, run past each class, past the field and go into the kitchen to get fresh water. On the old oak tree in the field there are a lot of birds singing and they sound good. Sometimes I would stand under the oak tree and listen, and would sometimes giggle, ‘coz there’s one bird who sounded just like my French teacher.
I love school. Everyday when I carry my bags to school and do my copying, carry water for the class and eat my lunch, I feel happy.
Hermione told me one day, “Ronald Weasley, I envy you.”
I only understood half of what she said.
She sighed and continued, “Honestly, being a retard ain’t so bad. No worries, no tuition, and no need for all that exam bother.”
Now that, I definitely have no idea what she meant. But when she said the word ‘retard’, I wasn’t angry. I didn’t think she was laughing at me.
I’m still happy.
“If someone calls you a retard, you’re supposed to be angry, don’t laugh,” Harry Scarface told me one day.
I nodded. But then I thought of something, “If it’s you who call me that, I won’t be angry.”
Harry Scarface nodded too.
But still, I immediately ran into trouble.
During French class, our French teacher Prof. Flitwick taught us how to say ‘Hello’ in French. I followed exactly what everyone read ‘Bon-sure, Bon-sure’, yet the teacher said I read it wrong.
He stood in front of me, lowered her head and let me see his lips.
“See? You have to pronounce the J and the Sh at the same time and not read out the R.”
He looked almost like those kissing fish I see in TV.
I tried real hard to follow him. I curled my lips so high that my drool almost sprayed out, yet he still wasn’t satisfied. He yelled angrily, “What is it with you? Why can’t you learn a single thing I’m teaching you? You retard!”
I don’t know if I should be angry or not.
I asked Harry Scarface about it during recess and he answered me with a troubled look, “Teachers are different from us; they can do whatever they want. There’s nothing we can do.”
Our English teacher, who’s also our class teacher—Miss Minerva McGonagall—treats me better. She gave me an exercise book with a lot of lines in it and asked me to copy words for the day’s class chapter. While the others read and discuss the chapters, I’ll be copying them.
I’m really good at copying. When I was in grade school, my teacher would let me copy words, line after line. I’ve forgotten what those words were though, or else I could write them for Harry Scarface to see and prove that I’m really good at copying.
To be honest, I love school. Summer holidays are boring with nothing but TV to watch. Mother never lets me go to the waffle shop. I want to help her serve waffles, but she never agrees. She would always scold me and say, “Do you want the whole world to know that I have a retarded son?”
That’s a really tough question. I never know how to answer that. I always thought that if Mother knew that I was a retard, then she didn’t have to give birth to me. But maybe she didn’t know that I would be one.
When I’m at school, I have Harry Scarface to talk to. Sometimes, girls would come and talk to me, but I can’t really understand what they’re saying, so all I can do is laugh.
Our class monitor is the world’s most beautiful girl named Hermione Granger. Harry Scarface also agreed that she’s pretty. But she’s a fierce girl and often scolds and yells at Draco Malfoy—the yellow-haired boy. Sometimes she scolds me, but she never calls me a retard. She remembers my name.
My job in class is to get water. The students in my class are heavy drinkers and they drain their cups within minutes. Prof. McGonagall would always say, “It’s class time, so the kitchen won’t have many people. Go get us water before they run out of it.”
I would then grab the kettle, run past each class, past the field and go into the kitchen to get fresh water. On the old oak tree in the field there are a lot of birds singing and they sound good. Sometimes I would stand under the oak tree and listen, and would sometimes giggle, ‘coz there’s one bird who sounded just like my French teacher.
I love school. Everyday when I carry my bags to school and do my copying, carry water for the class and eat my lunch, I feel happy.
Hermione told me one day, “Ronald Weasley, I envy you.”
I only understood half of what she said.
She sighed and continued, “Honestly, being a retard ain’t so bad. No worries, no tuition, and no need for all that exam bother.”
Now that, I definitely have no idea what she meant. But when she said the word ‘retard’, I wasn’t angry. I didn’t think she was laughing at me.
I’m still happy.
Saturday, March 4, 2006
Ronald Weasley's Diary-Chp 1
Started: 2-21-06; Completed: 3-13-06When I was in my first grade, one day a teacher took me to an office and told me, “Do whatever they tell you to do.”
Later, another teacher pulled my hand and told me to sit down. She also said the same thing, “Do whatever they tell you to do.”
She first gave me a few blocks to make a circle, then told me to draw a picture, and later asked me some questions. I tried real hard to make a circle, I tried real hard to draw and I tried real hard to answer her questions.
But no matter how hard I tried, she kept marking an X on a piece of paper she’s holding.
A few days later, the teacher said to me, “You should be in Class 18.” So I picked up my bag and said to my former classmates, “Goodbye, everyone.”
And they said, “Goodbye, Ronald Weasley.”
My teacher took me to somewhere very far away from my former class. There was a huge tree, and three classrooms.
I went into one of them.
I tried once to go back to my former class and peeked at my teacher from outside the window during recess. A real tall boy came over and said, “What are you doing back here?” The other short boy beside him said, “Yeah! Go back to your special class, you retard.”
They were laughing, so I laughed with them.
That was the first time I heard people calling me a ‘retard’.
I didn’t know what ‘retard’ meant, but every time someone said it, they would always laugh. So I laughed with them happily.
Students in the new class were very little, yet every class had two teachers. I studied from first grade to sixth grade in Class 18. Then one day, a flower was put on my uniform, and when we went to the hall I heard a lot of people talking and singing.
Back in my class, my teacher held my hands with her red sodden eyes and said, “You’ve graduated.”
So I graduated. Soon, Mother took me to another school.
Mother said, “Now that you’re in seventh grade, there will no longer have any special classes. You sit tight and study real hard, listen to what the teachers tell you and don’t give me any trouble.”
Mother works in the shop selling waffles, and she’s very busy. The next day, I went to school on my own. I tried a number of roads until I’ve finally found that high school.
When I reached the school gate, a very fierce male teacher who had a lot of hair and a bushy beard shouted at me and said, “You retarded or what? Deciding to show up ten minutes after eight, what a git! Go stand at the corridor!”
I stood there for a while until an old-looking female teacher came up to me and explained to the fierce teacher, saying, “This is my student, Hagrid. He’s not very bright, you see. I’ll take it from here.”
So I went into ‘First Year-Slytherdor’.
During recess, three boys surrounded me. One of them had very shiny yellow hair and was saying, “The professor told me you’re mentally disabled. I get it, you’re a retard! From now on, you are to listen whatever I say, understand?”
I nodded my head.
He knocked my head and shouted out loud, “Hey, everyone, look at the retard!”
Suddenly a boy came up to me and scolded the yellow-haired boy angrily, “Hey! You think you’re so smart now, huh, Malfoy?”
The yellow-haired boy was grinning, “Ho, boy! What a class we have! Not only we have retards, we have scarfaces!” So saying, he grabbed a basketball and went out of class.
I looked at Scarface and chuckled, a feeling of warmth churning in my stomach. He was almost as tall as me with quite messy hair, and green eyes behind a pair of very round glasses. His scar was quite huge, running from the middle of his forehead down towards the right side of his cheek, shaped like that symbol I saw on Flash’s chest whenever I watch the cartoon Justice League. I saw his nametag read ‘Harry Potter’, so I said in a low voice, “Harry Scarface.”
He also said in a low voice, “Ronald Retard.”
And just like that, we became friends.
Saturday, December 10, 2005
Justice Sukan Team: Storyline Sketches
Some storyline sketches based on the Sailormoon storyline, incorporating the Sidek Bros into it, and some of my Sidek Bros OC in replacement of Luna, Artemis and Diana
Justice Sukan Team: Book Poster Versions
Just my Justice Sukan Team version of the famous Sailormoon poster, though the final poster I followed the correct gender, coz at that time, having the lady to be the seme was a little weird for me
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