THE SUN IS OUT... AT LAST

Will I Miss the Rain?

When I was just a child, I loved the rain. It always comes around the start of the school year - starting July onwards until September. I usually sat by the window then and watched raindrops trickle by the awning. If the rain poured heavily off came my clothes and I could be seen frolicking half naked and wet with an ear to ear grin. The cold could not even bite. It was pure unadulterated fun. I always miss the fun once the rainy season ends. I cannot wait for the next season to begin.

Now that I am old and balding, do I still look forward to the rain? Time has changed so much. The rain that is comparable to manna before brings havoc to life and properties today. Has the downpour from heavens mutated? I think it has not. Unfortunately, man created a monster out of the rain. The water cycle still is there; however, a lot of side players would like to get into the action. All these have been man's misdeeds - his selfish miscalculation of nature's gift to his kind.

Will I ever miss the rain again today? I am not sure anymore. For several days, life has been so dreary and wet. Everywhere one looks, water seems to occupy all the nooks and crannies where it is not supposed to be. I don't blame the rain though. I may be even one to blame for why the rain now misbehaves. Still it retains its fascinating effect on me, but now I fully understand that it could fight back if man continues to be so self-absorbed with destroying nature and even his kind. I just hope the sun will not ever be like the rain. it is now out...at last.

THE QUEEN OF KANGKONG FESTIVAL

The Ludicrousness of Schools as Cultural(?) Centers

The government agency responsible for ensuring quality education in the country has changed its name as often as the confusion that results in the short term memories of students. When I was young, it was Ministry of Education and Culture. When I first taught in high school, it became Department of Education, Culture and Sports. Today, it is called the Department of Education, sans culture and sports. For whatever reason, I would like to believe that the change in name is supposed to reflect the thrust of the agency for quality education for all. However, when feast days in honor of our beloved saints come, Culture slowly creeps and reattaches itself to the Department of Education. I am referring to this not so stellar practice of converting schools (even for a week) into bogus, trying hard cultural centers at the expense of education quality (kuno!).

When fiesta comes in our place, we cannot do so much our share(!) in uplifting quality of education in the Philippines. Precisely because everyone is busy rehearsing for the nightly presentation of dances (which makes teachers look like trying hard tuods), never ending saga of street dancing (which makes our students look like slaves to insecure, reputation-challenged seasonal not seasoned festival choreographers) and countless requests for parades and rita-ritas to the delight of band trainers who learned music by belting out in cheap karaoke bars. These are all for the guise of social awareness, civic consciousness and cultural development. These are all in the sacrifice (He…he…he!) of education, quality education (Ho…ho…ho…u…bo!)

How should schools teach students culture – the appreciation of tradition and heritage? Is it by dancing in the street to the beat of oil drums? Or is it by declaring festival queens who unfortunately come in not so admirable titles? Can you imagine a queen of the Utanon Festival? She must be an achada! How about the Siloy Festival Queen? Does she reign over tikarols and buntogs and mayas and the yellow-breasted bulbol? I can only pity how a Pitlagong Queen smells – bahalina, dauat, or tungog? And how about the Banig Queen, Cabcab Queen, Bonga Queen, Tostado Queen, Bolho Queen, Sinulog Queen? Where are they now? Have they improved our understanding of who we are as people, as Cebuanos and as Filipinos? No! Nada…we are even going to teach Spanish next year in high school. Tu no hablaes Ingles? My gulay! Festival dancer ka seguro sa?

MISTAKEN IDENTITY, YOU MADE MY DAY

Hi Joe, I am Juan

Who's handsome? Definitely, I will be the first to say that I am. This Freudian self-worship may not actually be harmful; it even helps sometimes. If the confirmation, however, comes from others then I am doubly happy, it would resurrect my long dead grandfather from whom I have inherited my not-so-Pinoy looks. I have always been mistaken for someone I am not. In one of the high end restobars in Manila, someone congratulated me for winning a motocross event. I have never driven a motorbike, and someone mistook me for an extreme sports athlete. Cool! I have also been mistaken for a priest, not just once but several times. In one of the posh hotels in Cebu, I got past through the body scan and security check. The security personnel asked, "Father, are you attending the convention?" Yes, I said and I got in without the usual hassles of body frisking. To top, I have so many times been mistaken for a foreigner. It should have been the mixed of genetic grace. I am taller than the usual Juan. I got a patrician nose and I grow a lot of facial hair faster than my scalp. Children thought I am "Hi Joe". My former teacher thought I am one too. Just a while ago, coming from school, as I entered the house a fish vendor shouted, "Isda, Sir." I gestured No with my hands. She must not have seen it and thought I did not understand her at first. She shouted again, "Fish, Sir!" and that made my dreary Saturday all too sunny. I entered the house with a smile on my face.

WHO ARE YOUR TRUE FRIENDS?

Fair Weather Pals No More

Friendly acquaintances in school sometimes can escalate into something that one cannot handle. Ordinary classmate to classmate friendship soon becomes intimate connivance for something more foolish. Several junior students forged friendship only the ends of time supposedly could break. When grades in Chemistry, however, started subliming faster than any aromatic compound could, the sweet fragrance of sisterhood evaporated like any foul smelling sulfuric vomit. How can somebody, much more your (best?) friend, leave you like dirty rag on the wet floor? How can your (best?) friend ignore you at the canteen? Now you wonder. Has she ever been a friend at all? Poor, poor you girl. You've trusted so much. Friends come and go... and like the yo-yo they leave badly a bruised soul when hit they do.

FLOW OF THE RIVER -

Three Secrets of Success

Success remains elusive to most people. To some it represents the essence of life, for what is life if one lives a loser. Taking important lessons from a lowly yet determined river, life indeed can be successful with focused goal, creative resourcefulness and plenty acts of kindness. The river continuous to flow to the sea because right from the start it sees where it is going. To succeed, one needs a goal, a vision to work for. The river when hot goes underground to escape the scorching sun only to re-emerged farther down crystal clear and more determined than before. Lastly, the river does not forget to feed water even to its smallest tributary. Kindness begets kindness. From the lowly river, one needs to focus on a goal, be creative around problems and spread kindness to all to succeed.

I AM ABSENT TODAY

The Price(?) for Being 40

Many said life begins at forty. I don't know what to say but I think this idea holds much water. Whether one needs life because he has not yet lived one or simply because he has to re-live, I don't know too. One thing for sure, I need a new life.

When I am almost 40, I often feel tired almost always at the end of an academic year. Maybe I have started zealously that I got tired later. It could also be just plain burnout. I maybe stressed too from to many things to think of. Definitely I have nobody to blame but myself.

Or maybe I have to have a new life after all. How will I do this? I could always quit my work and find another. I may, however, rebirth back to just being a plain classroom teacher. I have better plans though. I want to live town for a while and live where no man has been before. In this case, I just do not live again, but more so be born again.

WOE TO YOU, GRADES

What's in them really?

Four times in the life of a student, he is sucked in a swallowing vortex of fear for what he dreadedly calls as the report card. Every grading period is a struggle to all hard working students to stare point blank at their grades, passed or failed. A failed grade not only vouches one's lack luster performance but also carries with it a depressing stigma that maybe the student is not performing very well or worse, that he does not really know. All of these indeed are causes to fear for a student who fails.

When a student fails and when the teacher is "good" in all the real sense, the former may indeed have not been performing very well. It would, however, be prudent to note that grades are not solely based on performance alone. There are intangible factors that go with grades. A student may have been performing very well but his sense of time management may have prevented him from giving adequate and equal attention to all subjects. he may have some preferences and may have used up all his time on a few subjects only.

Behavior also counts in some subjects, most especially the non-academic ones. A student may fail because he is misbehaving inside the school. The students should remember that the vision of the school does not only stop at them acquiring academic skills but also for them to be able to develop good manners and acceptable behavior in the community where they belong. It is sad that a lot of students today are needing of good manners. There are just so many students now that have clouded perception of what is good, acceptable and downright offensive behavior.

The parents too figure in the school performance of a student. Parents are the motivating factors for them to excel. What happens, though, if the parents are not there? If the latter may not be motivating enough, at least there are people who may be deterrent for the student to be not doing his job at school. The parents may monitor the study habits of their children. They may also be checking their children for requirements they may have to perform as other evidences of learning. Sadly, some parents are not at home.

It is indeed frightening to receive a report card with a failed grade. How much more, failed grades! A student may not deserve the scorn when he fails precisely because there are intangibles that come with failures. Yes, he may not be performing very well, but his lack luster performance may have been due to poor time management and the absence of parents who are the cheer leaders on the side. Worse and these may not be easy to remedy is bad behavior. Simply there are students that are annoying, the school is better off without them inside the class.

KM. 15 - DEAD END

What My Life Will Not Be 15 Years Hence

Fifteen years from now, my life would be worthless if I am loveless, penniless and homeless. Without love, I would not have inspiration. Without money, what's the purpose of living? Without a home but only a house to stay lessens my being into mere animal existence. What is there to live for, therefore, without love, money and the warmth of a home?

Love, money and home are what will make my life fifteen years hence worth living. Love inspires me to work harder and be the best husband for my wife, the best father for my children. Money as they say makes the world go round; thus, my life in riches revolves with the world. A home is not a house where only animals live. Definitely with love, money and home my life would be worth living.

I look around and worthless life is governed by the absence of love, paucity of money and the lack of warm embrace of a home. How many men have been mercilessly broken down into boys because they have not loved at all? How many men live on streets literally begging for their existence? How many men are contented with just boxes for shelter, rags to warm their nights? Should I decide to make my life worth living, I would have loved, earned my keep and build a home fifteen years from now.