uncle van’s cabin

I got a nasty cough and a runny nose. Chicken soup won’t make me feel better. The cough gel syrup will take days to take effect what with the chalk dust and the hours of overusing my vocal chords. The jacket won’t make me feel any warmer. I want something else.

Hug, anyone?

Remember the first time you saw me? You said I was wearing a hoodie looking somewhat lost and distracted. Well, you spotted a shy and lonely kid right away. You broke my walls. We hit it off that instant. Ours was a friendship I never expected to happen. I often saw you in the university with your skirt, bangles and piercings. Before we even met I even heard so much about you from Marvic and your other classmates. You were a campus figure, everyone seemed to just know you. I never told you this but when we started hanging out together, I was proud of myself. I was proud because I get to hang out with a COOL guy. I was an anti-social sophomore, then, trying so hard to fit in with the rest. So I’ve always thanked God for your friendship. But more than that I was proud that you valued my ideas, my thoughts, my idiosyncracies. You boosted me up and so I learned to appreciate myself, too.

You know me very well. In fact, you know me much better than my whole friends and family combined. You’ve seen it all. You’ve seen me in my painful rite of passage to adulthood. You bled and cried with me. You made fun of me but you loved me just the same. You were doing a one-man act.  You were my brother, my father, my friend, my mentor… I trusted you.

7 years. We’ve been really good friends for that long already. Ours was a symbiotic relationship, right? I’ve tried so hard to give, too. I’m sorry if I wasn’t there to listen when you had trouble with P. I was busy beating the deadlines in school. I’m sorry that I didn’t talk to you for several months already. You very well know the reason for that. I’m sorry that I sometimes cannot text back when you badly need someone to talk with. And most of all, I’m sorry that I can only give you my friendship.

I remember how well you tried to convince me to spend the New Year in your house. I know you pitied me for spending the new year by myself but you see, this is me. I take pride in my independence and freedom. You probably know just when our friendship started suffocating me. I just realized that it wasn’t healthy anymore. I felt being tied-down. You said things that are not worth repeating here. You wanted to cross the line and that’s one thing I cannot allow you to do.

I didn’t flinch when you revealed it to me. You are my friend. My best one at that. But I should have seen it coming. I should have just stopped there before it got worse.

Have I ever told you I love you? I do. I really do. But it’s not the kind of love in your definition. I know you love me too but it’s not the kind of love I can give you back.
I want to keep you as the person I’ve loved in my memory. Not the one I’ve started to dislike. No, I don’t hate you. I don’t want you to blame yourself. There’s nothing to blame.  Some things are just not worth keeping. It’s better that way.

I want you to move on. A scholarship abroad? Now, that’s something. Isn’t that what you’ve dreamed of? I’ve always admired you for just being yourself. I’ve always been your fan. I believe in you. You may not know it but I’ve learned so much from you.

I want you to keep me in your memory as that girl with the hoodie. Nothing more.
Let’s drop everything here. No need to look back. We’ve grown, we’ve loved, we’ve learned and that’s all that matters.

I once asked my Grade 5 students to write about their crushes in their journals. Squeals and catcalls erupted from the boys. I spied the girls blushing, whispering, and giggling among themselves. But after awhile they were already busily writing and trying hard to cover their writings lest a classmate take a peek on their "crush." One boy boldly came to me and whispered, "Ma’am, can I write about you?" I hastily said, "NO! Write about somebody your age." He embarrassingly retreated back to his seat and wrote about a classmate instead. I wanted to kick myself that instant. Is it too much to just give the boy a chance to write about his "older" crush? It’s creative writing so why couldn’t I have just given him the liberty to write about whoever he wants to write? Besides, it would have been cute to read about what he have to say about me. Sometimes, in the classroom, I act too hastily without giving my decision a thought. I’m too wrapped up with order, rules, and instructions.
Here’s another incident; This naughty, naughty boy kept on saying "testicles" in a sing-songy voice. I told him to stop it but continued to do so. That encouraged the other boys to follow suit. I told him to come in front. He’s the president of the class so he thought we’ll have a meeting of sort. I told him that next time he says that word he’ll open his pants and show his "testicles" to his classmates. The class burst out laughing. He never said the word again. But I’m not sure if I did the right thing. You see, when he went back to his chair he looked back at me with so much hatred in his eyes. I could see that he was embarrassed but I never thought children are capable of strong hatred. Couldn’t I have just reprimanded him personally? I felt bad about it afterwards. Sometimes, when it comes to discipline I am not sure if I’m good at it. In fact, I rely on the children’s affection rather on discipline when it comes to classroom management. One father gave me the feedback that I am not firm on the kids and that I should be strict on them. I’m sorry, sir, but you don’t know what’s going on in the classroom. I have my own way of dealing with them. It may not be your style but it works for me. I stand by the belief that humans are inherently good but I sometimes feel a pull where humans are inherently evil, too.

This other incident shows that students have their own basis for the good and the bad; Around dismissal time, the children were already outside playing when a group of boys came to me with a teary-eyed classmate in tow. When I asked him what’s wrong, he started wiping his tears and said, "My classmates are teasing me that I pooed in the restroom." I laughed really hard when I heard him say that. You would laugh if you were me (I laughed over un-funny matters). It’s amusing to see that children get embarrassed over nature’s call. I just realized I committed an unforgiving act when the boys said, "Ma’am, you laughed! You’re a baaaaad teacher!" I laughed even harder. The next day, word spread in the classroom that Ma’am Van laughed at one of their classmates because he pooed in the classroom. Of course, he denied the accusation. Until now, I am not sure if he really did pooh that day. Students have so much expectations. They expect you to be good. By good means, lenient and relaxed. You’re bad if you give too many assignments, call on their parents all the time, send them to the Guidance Office for disciplinary actions… I admit I had been baaaaaad… Sometimes what they think is bad is actually good for them.

Ah, I’m starting to miss my kids. They’ll be in grade 6 this opening. Adolescents in the making… My elementary teaching years were hard but I learned a lot.

This schoolyear, I’ll be teaching high school. New school, new students, new culture, new co-teachers, new heads… I know I’ll be learning more…