A Rainy Day

Today was one of those days. It was a rainy day(signal nos. 1 was raised at 5:00 and 11:00 a.m. for Leyte province and we suspended classes for Preschool following Department of Education guidelines) and calls from parents came in torrents as my office handyman (secretary, man-friday and records officer rolled into one) manned the telephone lines, repeatedly telling them that classes will continue for other grade/year levels in spite of the heavy downpour and the rising waters. My loyal co-worker attempted to contact me as he noticed waters moving inside the administration building. The landlines were out and my cell phone prompted zero load. I was in another building contemplating on calling off classes as I observed the huge volume of water cascading from a hilly portion of the grade school campus. Noting that the sky continued unloading its voluminous load, I called off classes. Just in time. The lowest level of the campus was flooded knee-high or even waist-high depending on who waded through the water- child or adult. A portion of the hill at the back of the administration and high school building and alongside the provincial road caved in. Water cruelly gouged through the elevation and dumped a large portion of soil on the perimeter road. The drainage system couldn’t take so much onslaught. Water rose quickly. Custodians and office workers scurried to save some papers and equipment.

This same portion of the hill caved in a few weeks back when a portion of the perimeter fence toppled due to the softening of its foundation. The debris still bear the broken artwork of the students’ mural. I consider it a blessing that the wall crumbled much earlier. It could have injured motorists using the perimeter road.

I sighed with relief that most of the children had gone home for lunch. Those who waited for their parents and guardians (grade school pupils are not allowed to go home without an adult escort in case of a typhoon), ogled at the rushing waters. On pretext, others moved to other buildings to get “important” belongings. In truth, they just wanted the feel of water at their feet and the thrill of getting soaked. Who wouldn’t, given the exuberance of youth? But not under the watchful eyes of the teachers! So, missing lunch, I watched as parents dutifully picked up their children from school.

A growing uneasiness scratched the surface of my consciousness. Then it came like a thunderbolt! I realized that a class was having their recollection in another part of the estate. Jumping through the water(I had already changed to my sneakers, thanks to my perceptive wife), I got hold of a spare vehicle and motored through the deluge. The class adviser, to allay her own fears, rode with me. We saw several vehicles on their way to school, probably driven by parents, as they cautiously navigated the watery road. Some portions of the road were clear.

We moved down an incline and stopped. In front of us was a brownish mini-river. The rain had not stopped. A colleague tagged along on board his motorcycle to fetch his eldest son who attended the recollection. He bravely waded on foot through the water. The school’s other car arrived and the driver doggedly gunned the engine through the water, with us following closely behind. The children were safe. We gathered them in the two cars, dropped some closest to their residences and carried the rest back to school to wait for their parents.

The rains stopped. The waters subsided. Willing hands helped in hosing the pavements and the floors of the administration building. Most of them enjoyed the respite, especially those who held fire hoses for the first time. The rains came back. We tacitly agreed to stop the cleaning.

I am now home wishing that the rains would not come back. I worry that the school will be flooded again. It is one of those days. But I feel great! Let us see what happens tomorrow.

Symbols

(As School Principal, I am called upon to deliver some messages on several occasions. Here is one during a Juniors and Seniors Promenade that has survived my forgetfulness. After making a speech or message, I normally forget about them. Thanks to the computer, a few have been saved. Others that were gropingly picked on the typewriter keys would probably be tucked away in some forgotten folders. Others have definitely gone back to mother earth through the garbage bin.)

We use symbols to express our ideas, feelings and our values. We see these symbols in the Philippine Flag during Independence Day celebrations, in stars and Christmas trees during the yuletide season, in masks and squash during Halloween, in firecrackers during fiestas and the New Year, in hearts during Valentine’s Day, in diplomas and togas during graduation. Organizations also use symbols like company brand or logo to express their visions, products, or their services. Societies, whether repressive or liberal, use symbols like the swastika, the mailed fist, the hammer and cycle, the peace sign and the like to express their beliefs and orientation. The younger generation have their symbols, too. Examples are the dirty finger sign, pierced ear, dyed hair or “kalbo”, braided hair, loose pants, open shirts, and other forms of symbols to identify with the mood of their generation.

Tonight, the juniors and seniors will use symbols like candles, tokens, key of responsibility and the book of wisdom. These symbols signal gratitude to the seniors and the shift of responsibility to the juniors as the elders of the student populace with the hope that they exercise leadership that is tempered with wisdom. The symbols also invite some form of reflection for the outgoing seniors. When they bequeath responsibilities, character traits, and talents to the juniors, although given in a form of jest, they may begin to realize that the responsibilities and challenges they will be facing in college will be awesome, at times even emotionally draining. Thus, for some if not most of the juniors and seniors, the promenade tonight should trigger a change in outlook and a review of personal commitments. Allow me, juniors and seniors, to help you chart your directions by going through the meanings that I assigned to the word PROM.

P will remind you of PERSEVERANCE. For the juniors, it shall mean the pursuit of academic excellence and honing their skills in preparation for college. For the Seniors, perseverance shall mean completing a course while adopting themselves to a different lifestyle in college where old friends will not be around to fall back to, where teachers and professors will not be as considerate as their high school teachers, and where your parents will not always be physically present to offer comfort, solace or peace of mind. P shall also mean PEER SEVERANCE where the juniors and seniors reject influences from their peers which are harmful to them or when they reject certain actions because they believe or feel strongly against it, in spite of being considered an outcast.

R will remind you of RESPONSIBILITY. For the juniors, it will mean assuming the role of elders among the students, leading by example and participating in mature decisions for their class or for the whole school. For them, it shall also mean preparing for their lessons everyday, reporting to school promptly and regularly and submitting requirements on time. For the seniors, it shall mean managing their time and finances properly to attend to class schedules, requirements, personal hobbies, requirements of faith and social life, and in facing the many temptations and difficulties of city life. Responsibility means that you will have to contend with riding jeepneys, crossing streets at the appropriate signal, budgeting your meals or cooking your own meals so that you can report to your classes and complete requirements. Responsibility also means rejecting the temptation to spend more time in watching movies, window shopping, playing electronic games or socializing with friends. It is not a bed of roses out there. Neither is it beds of roses here where your parents cut down expenses, save, or borrow to send you money. Responsibility means, for you juniors and seniors, that you do the best you can because you can already be trusted.

O will stand for OPTIMISM. For the juniors, it shall mean another year of schooling at LLCI and getting the most of out of that year. Current difficulties in your studies, frustration with your love life, misunderstanding with your parents, petty quarrels with peers shall serve only as temporary setbacks. Your greater concern is the formation of heart and mind that will prepare your for future success. For the seniors, OPTIMISM shall mean that college life is another obstacle, a different set of difficulties which will make you more determined to pursue a lifelong career or occupation. For OPTIMISM is simply turning around predicaments and problems as opportunities for growth.

M will stand for MANLINESS. Manliness is not reflected in the sex of a person or in his mannerisms. It is the ability to say YES or NO at the proper time. It is the expression of one’s principles and beliefs. It is the determined NO to drugs, NO to violence and NO to godlessness. It is the complete acceptance of and YES to God, YES to the sacredness of life and YES to service to people.

Juniors and Seniors, let PROM be your symbol. Let P mean PERSEVERANCE and be like the man who was extremely successful in dealing with mule teams. When asked how he did it, he said: “Well, when the mules stop, I just pick up a handful of soil and put it in their mouths. Of course, they spit it out, but as a rule, they move on.” Asked to explain why it produces that effect, he answered: “Well, I don’t know, but I expect it changes their current of thoughts. “ This simply illustrates that where there is a will, there is a way, even when dealing with hard-headed mules. Let R mean RESPONSIBILITY, but one that comes with intelligent thought. Be not like the man who, when told by an interviewing officer that they need a responsible man for the job, eagerly answered: “That’s me. Wherever I worked, if anything went wrong, they said I was responsible.” Let O mean OPTIMISM like a father who, with his four-year old son, were with a crowd inside an elevator. A kindly old lady said to the father: “Aren’t you afraid your little son will be crushed with so many people here?” The father smiled and said: “Not at all, Not at all. My son bites.” Let M stand for MANLINESS, like a politician who once asked a carpenter to vote for him. The carpenter said: “I admire your abilities, but damn your principles”, to which the politician answered: “My friend, I applaud your sincerity, but damn your manners.”

Finally, your parents and teachers serve as symbols of love and concern. Their presence eloquently says: “I care”. Their absence silently says: “I still care, I am with you in spirit and thought.”

My Teaching Philosophy

(Wikipedia informally defines philosophy as a general world view or to a specific ethic or belief. Here is my belief in what teaching should be.)

A child enters school with a set of values and skills that are learned and experienced from his immediate family and peers. These values and skills impact on his manner of interacting with people and his surroundings. These values and skills serve as a starting point for learning or unlearning. Knowing and utilizing these entry behaviors would contribute to successful teaching and learning.

Social behavior in school is as important as the child’s exposure to new skills and concepts. No amount of teacher preparation would undo a child’s biases if social skills like respect, courtesy, responsibility, etc.. are not enhanced side by side with the development of his mental faculties. Neither should his physical and emotional development be neglected. A child may blossom as a mental giant but fails miserably to cope with peer pressure, fears to turn a doorknob, or gropes with his hands to button his shirt.

A child does not learn exclusively from his teachers. He learns a lot of things, while enjoying the process, from his peers, family and the media. Teaching should capture the essence of contextualized learning. There exists no attraction in learning something that does not hint of any present or future value. Thus, the classroom experience should revolve around the usefulness of concepts and skills and their prospective applicability in everyday life.

Through the years, I predicted success in teaching on a teacher’s knowledge of content, proficiency in oral and written communication, high intelligence and efficient control of student behavior. Experience taught me to modify some of my beliefs. I am now convinced that a teacher’s emotional maturity should weave these elements together. In fact, his emotional quotient should stay at the apex of his good qualities. Without this elemental quality, the students confront a “living hell”. Imagine the trauma that a teacher brings to a classroom when he talks beyond the students comprehension, humiliates the students in front of his classmates, explodes violently when students fail to give the correct answer, or he gives a quiz at the slight misbehavior of the class. The lines of communications break. Effective learning stops. The students become cowed, act passively during class discussions, begin to fear the teacher, commit more mistakes due to nervousness, learn to hate the teacher and ultimately hate the subject. The classroom, later the school, loses its attraction as a healthy place to stay.

Teaching is a very trying and tiring profession. However, small triumphs come when students show glimmers of interest and progress. A teacher cultivates these initial “sprouting” by acknowledging and respecting students’ inadequacies. The students respond by starting to believe in their self worth. Then they work harder at tasks because the classroom becomes a cozy place to stay. Love and concern for one another dominates it.

Hi Papa

My daughter wrote a tribute to me. I felt guilty that I never said “I Love You” to Papa when he was alive. Here’s a tribute to Papa wherever he may be now.

I treasure the good genes that Papa channeled to me- singing( even talking) voice and love for musical instruments. I idolized most especially his dexterity in playing the piano. Thus, at around age 8 or 9, I started playing the piano and fantasized that I would play like him. Woe me! My romance with the keys fizzled out after my first “recital”. When all the other would-be pianists gave up the lessons, I labored through the notes while my auntie continued crocheting all sorts of house decors in the kitchen. She would call out the wrong notes in her high-pitched voice. At times, in moments of exasperation, I would voicelessly mimic her comments at the piano. When she did not get the right response, she would heavily drag her slippers across the hall and bang the chords to make her point. Repetitious onslaught of the same reaction got me cowed and frustrated. I finally stopped playing the piano but continued fantasizing of making it to a concert hall. Papa remained my idol. My auntie? Well, I continued loving her. Why not? I was the favorite nephew!

But I learned how to play the accordion by watching Papa play. And he sang while he tickled the keys. I loved to watch him play and hear him sing. He had a very melodious voice and his lungs could belt out the high notes. He had excellent control of his vocal chords.

Papa was a happy-go-lucky guy. To Mama’s perpetual dismay, Papa would go out with friends drinking, singing and even serenading! At the urging of our “cavalier’ parish priest and his friends, he would tag along with his accordion and provide accompaniment to overgrown kids who thought of themselves as Sinatra, Bennett or the The Platters. His drinking sometimes brought out the tiger in Mama. Inevitably, quarrels erupted. One time I interfered. That was the time when I was already a teacher. We almost came to blows. Nervous Mama dragged me all the way to her spinster aunt. I regretted that episode in my life. I did apologize but continued to harbor the guilt a long time.

Papa got frustrated early in life. He was constantly nagged for his carefree attitude. Later, when he wanted to pursue a college education, my grandfather shut down his dreams. His father favored the younger son. Papa got married early and he carried over his spirited behavior to his married life. He simply brushed aside problems that came his way. Mama absorbed the burden.

But for all his faults, Papa was closer to me than the rest of my 10 siblings. Probably because I was his first seed. Or maybe because I showed early signs of discipline and commitment to my studies. The image of my father escorting me in the wee hours of Mondays to the bus terminal continues to linger. That was when I attended high school in the next town. While waiting for the first bus, he would bring me to a cafeteria to partake of native delicacies. Then he would make sure that I safely boarded the bus, sometimes slipping a few bills and coins in my pocket even if Mama already provided me with some money. In his soft and baritone voice, he would bid me goodbye. I remember that voice very well-caring, concerned and very soothing. Unconsciously, I imbibed that characteristic.

Papa was not only a good singer, a good piano and accordion player. He was also very athletic. He was a good basketball player and an above average pugilist. He never fought in the ring but he used to spar with professional boxers and he fared well in those encounters. Papa was also good in making pencil sketches and drawing still-life figures. I discovered this when I ransacked the attic of my grandfather’s house. I was mesmerized by his expertise -balance, knowledge of anatomy, and perspective. When peeved or simply hurt, I would climb the attic and immerse myself in the milieu of his drawings. That hideaway usually soothed my aching heart.

I miss you Papa and thank you for the talent that you handed down to me and my children. Those talents will always be part of our lives. I wish you were here to hear your granddaughter Vianney sing and read her beautiful articles. I wish you were here to see your grandson Amiel play the guitar and remain to be a loving son. I wish you were here to see Jake grow up to be a trusted employee and a responsible husband. I wish you were here to feel the simplicity of granddaughter-in-law Mae. Most of all, I wish you were here when I will greet my first born grandson.

Since you would not be around, I wish you can see how your strengths and weaknesses have entwined beautifully to influence me and my children. That legacy will always be in our lineage and the generations that follow. I salute you. I LOVE YOU.

Misplaced Patriotism?

I woke early morning of Sunday, went to mass, got home as quickly as possible and turned on the TV set. This was the day to break or unbreak Pacman Pacquiao. His fight with "Chololo" Larios was set at 11:00 a.m., Philippine time. The TV screen played on my nerves. Horizontal lines wavered on the screen then all went black except for a thin line in the center. Several months ago, I advised my wife to have the set checked. Contented with her "magical touch", she suffered the glitzes while watching soap operas. She had the knack for touching the set in the right places and getting a clear picture. Not today. She was visiting our daughter in another island. Exasperated,I turned on the radio and fiddled with the tuning knob until I got a clear "blow by blow" report of the penultimate bout.As the match progressed, I realized that the Filipino reporter excitedly narrated the blows delivered by the Filipino fighter, relegating the prowess of the Mexican fighter to stingy details. Controlling my temper at the biased reporting, I pounded the bed and scolded the reporter(imagine me scolding the radio!). Our fighter won, no thanks to the blinder of the Filipino reporter. Pacman's fight followed. Thanks to a congressman from Negros who pinched hit for the anchorman, the reporting was more balanced. Manny "Pacman" Pacquiao won decisively over Larios.

The euphoria over the triumphs(4-0 in favor of Filipino fighters over the Mexicans)soothed my nerves. But the dismay on the biased reporting lingered. Was it misplaced "patriotism" on the part of the reporter, or was he carried away by his excitement and forgot his journalistic ethics? Maybe, maybe not. Would have I done the same if I were in his shoes? Honestly, I am not sure. Maybe, maybe not. Sometimes, experience tells us best what to do. Sometimes, we get too critical at others' actions, forgetting that we could be mistaken too. Maybe, we should not get too excited at small things.

First Step

I feel like a new born baby on his first uncertain steps. I just don't know what to write about at this moment. Anyhow, I'll use this spot to express my thoughts about school, my family and friends, and on some concerns that I feel comfortable to share with other people.

My daughter posted a blog entitled "Tribute to Dad". While reading her piece, I felt my hairs stand up. Was not really expecting the "tribute." When my colleagues(my wife shared the piece)learned about this, they asked how I felt. I readily told them that I felt envigorated the moment I read the piece. It was beautifully written and stripped me of my "school master" image. I am particularly elated because my daughter published this piece for the world to read. I am still savoring the experience and it has seeped into my consciousness. In times of stress, I can always re-read the piece to give me inspiration.