Young feet trotting towards the small iron gates. Big feet leading the way. Red balloon sleeves. Skinny hands. Tight grip to Mama's starchy finger. Mama's cotton long sleeves hiding her aged hands. Mel-mel held on to her Mama's finger. Not willing to let go. But soon having to let go. A long, endless journey of day-and-night struggle and constant workload awaited her. Kindergarden. Elementary. Middle. High. I.B. Eight hours everyday, (thankfully sparing weekends and holidays), for at least Twenty years. But she was unaware of this. Unaware of the Puppet Show she was being led into, by her own beloved Mama.
Little Mel-mel did not have a typical baby's brain. She was not stupid, however convincing that explanation might seem. She could read through the words, long before she learnt to read. People's unsaid thoughts were her books. Subconsciously, she became aware of the Other Person living underneath every human being. But she was too young to make any sense of it at all.
A fresh earthly breeze swung through the Kindergarten campus. The air was warm and welcoming but seemed unfamiliar to Mel-mel. Too Unfamiliar.
"Will we meet again, Mama?" she asked, in her cutest questioning tone, looking up at her apparently towering mother.
"Of course, Mel-mel. As soon as we can." she replied, spurting with motherly, heartfelt emotion. But Little Mel-mel knew otherwise. Mama's finger hooked in, allowing a tighter grip.
They stopped. Amidst the crowd of departing parents and neatly dressed, hairpinned children. Mama bent down to give her Mel-mel a take-care hug. Hugging her from side to side, ear to ear. Mel-mel just stood there. She did not understand the importance of that moment, nor did she comprehend the emotional, do-not-forget-me tone in her Mama's teary voice.
"…Eat Properly… Do not annoy the teachers… Ask if you need help to "POO""
Mama got more teary with every line. Tear drops ran down her roused cheek. Going lower. Lower. Lower. Hung on her chin. Big Fall. Mama was crying. A it-seems-to-be-a-right-time-to-cry cry. A reasonable reason for heavy-hearted Mama. Mel-mel subconsciously realized that Mama was not actually crying because her little Mel-mel was starting her first day in school but more because she was frustrated. Frustrated with her live-in boyfriend's selfishness. For living off her money. For not earning for Mel-mel's education. Mama only needed a time to cry, a time where crying seemed OK. Mel-mel started to cry too. For no reason. That's the thing with age - young can cry whenever, wherever, for whatever reason. The older need a reasonable reason. Young cry for food, love and attention. The older crave for it but can't cry for it.
Sweet-tongued but weary-minded Teacher told Miss Melissa Liesser to join the queue of alternating red balloon frocks and checkered shorts. Teacher had a quick conversation with Mama, both looked at Mel-mel with their facetious love. One in her kind kindergarden-teacherly look, all compensated with casual wear and warm flat-heeled boots. The other in her dedicated motherly look, with her red dress and given-birth waist. Mama's last wave, and Last French kiss to her Little Mel-mel. No. To Miss Melissa Liesser. Because Miss Johnson had just pulled the First String.
Before she stepped onto her new A-B-C and 1-2-3 decorated Stage, Miss Melissa Liesser turned around only to find Mama quietly chatting away with another Mama. Whatever happened to Forget-me-not? She stepped into the classroom. Her Puppet Show, for the next Twenty years. Except, she didn't hold the strings.
Sitting amongst the group of puppet-toddlers (or tuppets) and listening to Teacher's overly sweet-knived introduction to herself. Sweet Knife. Sweet but Sharp. She didn't warn them about the strings that were going to be pulled, nor the never ending Show they were becoming a part of. "Welcome to Pink and Blue Kindergarden School! My name is Mrs. Pinner and I am your Teacher for this year." She announced to a group of distracted, un-listening children. Some tapping the desks. Others fidgeting with their neatly pressed clothes. Meli sat there, reading through Teacher's words. She read that Mrs. Pinner's brain-nerves were tensing, her heartbeat fastening. But Teacher was putting all her breakfast's energy to not moving a wrinkle on her young face. Mrs. Pinner was annoyed with her job. Already. Meli heard Teacher's mind speak, vaguely. "I need the money…. Just take care of these fools for 3 hours..... for 8 months and I'm done with them." All about the Money.
Kindergarden. Elementary. Middle. High. I.B. Work loads increased. Pressure increased. Politics increased. More strings. Homework-strings. Testrings. Exam-strings. Student-puppets (or stuppets) around her were burdened by them. Stuppets around her cried (now with a reasonable-reason) because of the endless workload. Meli could read the I-need-to-get-good-grades and I-need-to-work-hard written all over their teenage brain nerves. But she was a different stuppet. School years flew by simply doing the least required written work. And the most required reading work. Sitting through classroom lectures after lectures, stuppets took down notes and studied. She simply read Teacher's minds and soon enough, she discovered that despite the wide variety of fatness and heights, they all had one thing in common. The I-need-the-money thought.
Passing exams was never a problem for her. Stuppets studied and passed. She read their minds and passed. No studying. Number one. An answer from Chrissy's mind. Number two. An answer from Chrissy's mind. Number three. Chrissy doesn't know. An answer from Phil's mind. Plagiarism? She would like to call it Useful Use of Gifts. Not to say she wasn't smart. Reading and Analyzing all these brains had trained her own into knowing Psychology better than Sigmund Freud. People unquestionably questioned her genius all the time with only one answer from her - "I read."
Five years later, sitting amongst the group of stuppets and listening to her guidance councelor, Mr. Patrik Hammers give an inspirational speech before the final exams, Meli was reading through his words.
“If you don’t do it, nobody else will. You need to push yourselves to the limit. You need to set your aims high and struggle to achieve them. You need to ensure that every step you make, you are getting closer towards your goal. We all want you to mark your place in society, to make yourselves a name. We are only here to help you along this journey. This is principally about you. Insanely about you. ” The Money-Minded councellor was Pulling the Last Strings on which hung Meli, and the other keen-eyed, hypnotized stuppets in the hall.
Her peer stuppets were easily blinded, but her mind peeped through these blinds. These learnt-by-heart motivations are solely for their own Professional Ambitions. In the depths of these assurances, these encouragements, these seemingly important academic assignments, there is politics. Mere Politics. "These people need assurance that they can do well….So our school can get more publicity….. So I can get a raise," Meli read his mind speak. Through all these school years of reading minds, Meli was not new to the selfish intention leering in his mind. Students do well, teachers get more money. Students go to top universities, school gets more publicity. "Insanely about us? My foot," Meli cursed this Stringpulling, Professional Manipulation. All about the Money.
Meli graduated from I.B. with a 45 (surprisingly unsurprisingly) She mastered her literary skills, learnt by heart the history and geography of the Earth and some sufficient 1-2-3s. But above all else, Meli learnt two big lessons -
(a) Education systems are Merely Mindwshing Money Making Institutions.
(b) Education systems are only designed to help people meet Society's Demands. By the Society. For the Society. All about the Society.
And of course, the Money.
Forty years later, the world would mourn over the death, while her decaying body would be buried under the sandcovered stone next to her Mama's grave. Her name, deeply engraved in stone. Deeply engraved in people's hearts.
Mrs. Melissa Margaret Liesser
Founder of the World Free Education systems
Owing it to her, for leading the world away from the
Ephemeral desire for money
August 19, 1987 - December 3, 2047
Long live her soul
)