The Unlikely Friendship
Sir Iqbal Vs Mr. Devi
When Broken English Meets Perfect Lesson Plan
The first day of the new semester at SMP Negeri 2 Lhokseumawe felt like a crowded market. Teachers were busy with piles of lesson plans, signatures, and colorful folders. On the left corner sat Mr. Devi, the most “perfect” teacher in the school. His lesson plans were flawless, well-typed, and decorated like they were ready for a beauty contest.
On the other corner sat me—Mr. Iqbal, also known as Mister Broken English. My lesson plans? Well, sometimes they were hiding behind fried-snack wrappers. But my class was always full of laughter and confidence. Students dared to speak English, even if they mixed it with local jokes:
“Sir, may I go to toilet for buy bakso?”
And I proudly answered, “Yes! Confidence is more important than grammar!”
The conflict started when the principal announced:
“Mr. Iqbal and Mr. Devi, you both will handle the English Performance Week together.”
Mr. Devi smiled politely, already holding his thick binder. I slapped my forehead. This was going to be trouble.
"Mr. Iqbal, please submit your lesson plan by next week,” Devi said in a calm but sharp tone.
I grinned. “Lesson plan? That’s Relax Planning, Sir.”
Devi raised his eyebrow. “It means Rencana Pelaksanaan Pembelajaran.”
I shrugged. “Same thing. The point is—kids must enjoy the class.”
The first rehearsal was pure chaos. Mr. Devi handed out detailed drama scripts. I brought a Bluetooth speaker and some flashcards. Students didn’t know whether to laugh or to act. Some tried reading scripts seriously, others joined my “crazy English games.” Devi shook his head, while I jumped in front of the class shouting, “Grammar wrong is better than no grammar!”
Then something magical happened. Nadia, the shyest student in school, who usually stayed silent, suddenly stood up. With trembling voice she said, “My name is Nadia, I am… nervous very much.” The class clapped loudly. Nadia smiled—her first real smile in English class.
Devi froze for a moment. Inside his mind: “This chaos… actually works?” That night, while highlighting his notes at home, he kept thinking: rules can shape order, but maybe courage needs freedom.
From that moment, we combined forces. Devi handled the structure, I handled the energy. He prepared the scripts and reports, I boosted the students’ courage and made them believe that speaking broken English was not a crime.
Finally, the English Performance Week arrived. The school hall was full of parents, teachers, and students. Performances were wild: drama, stand-up comedy, even parodies in English. Grammar mistakes? Tons. But confidence? Full tank! The audience clapped, laughed, and admired the bravery of the students.
The principal concluded, “This program shows that differences are not obstacles—they are strengths when united.”
Back in the teachers’ room, Devi put his neat report on my messy desk. “Here’s the final documentation. Don’t lose it.”
I handed him a crumpled sticky note. “And here’s your first graffiti lesson plan.”
We both burst into laughter. That day, an unlikely friendship was born—not because we became the same, but because we learned to respect each other’s differences. Together, chaos and perfection created something unforgettable.
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