uncle van’s cabin

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…

I blew up my high school demo at West this morning. My laptop was painfully slow, thus, the students and the teachers (my inquisitors) grew tired and restless of waiting for me. There wasn’t any technician to take care of the LCD. I told one of the teachers who is also my batchmate that I’d rather not go for it. He looked me in the eye and said, "Depende simu a." One of my inquisitors asked me if I have a Plan B. I actually didn’t have (I slept for only 2 hrs to make the powerpoint presentation). I decided to just go for it and halfway through it the laptop decided to work itself again (whew!). I finished the demo but I know that I just blew it. I hurriedly went to the QH building for my college demo. I told my old, lit prof not to ask me questions during my presentation and I’m glad she kept her promise.

I could say that my college demo was the best demo I’ve given so far. My topic was about vengeance with The Cask of Amontillado as my short story. Does God live in air-conditioned rooms only? Because at that very moment I felt like God was there with me (how come I didn’t feel Him in the non-airconditioned h.s building?). There I was talking about revenge with so much emotion that I felt I wasn’t entirely talking to my inquisitors but also to myself. I felt that in that very moment in the classroom God gave me the wisdom that I know I don’t even have. I felt so calm and light-headed. To top it all, the students were engrossed with what I had to tell them. They were interested and participative. I really appreciated that. Before I actually went inside, Sir Leo held my hands and whispered a prayer with me. When my demo’s over and it was already his turn I gave him a hug and thanked him profusely. I just met a very kind man. He even offered to help with my demo.

There were 6 applicants but they only need two part-time English instructors. I was the least qualified because I’m the only one without the Master’s degree and the least no. of years in the teaching profession. My interview lasted for about 10 min only while there’s lasted for half an hour… uh-oh…

I ate lunch with the rest of the applicants. Sirs Leo and Edgar teased me mercilessly about not having a boyfriend and for looking too young. I felt really tired at that time but I couldn’t stop laughing with Mam Carmen and the two Sirs. At that time we simply forgot that we’re actually competing for the position. With those people as my rivals, I’m not expecting to get the job anymore.

I may not get the job but I’m glad I gained some friends on that day.

Reality slapped me on the face when I received a sorry paycheck last April. I quit my job in ISA and so I have to deal with the measly pay I got in my new (old) job. I said old, new job because I went back to my  work prior ISA. I just decided to teach part-time because I want to enjoy my freedom for now and I want to review for the compre (yep, I got delayed again). Enjoy my freedom I do but not my salary. But really I’ve never felt relieved in my entire life! What do you need a big salary for when you’re slowly killing yourself? I miss my co-teachers though and most of all the kids. I can’t believed I came out of ISA still in one piece. I left some of my self-esteem there, however. I still get panic attacks every time my new boss approaches me. I know he’s different from the old boss but I’ve been conditioned for two years that if your boss will call you for something it only means that you’ve been a bad, bad employee. I still can’t understand why my old boss has to yell at his teachers. I once got starved because I stayed in his office to be reprimanded for two hours. That was lunchtime and when I said I was already hungry, he said, "That’s your fault!" I left a chunk of my self-esteem in his office that very day. There are many "yelling" instances but that calls for another write-up. I can’t stand being yelled at so I have to exit…

Reality kissed me on the face when I started working in Top’s again. I can go online all the time, I can study whenever I want, I can take a nap, I can jog in the mornings, I can answer my cellphone without getting anxious that it’s another nagging parent. I have all the time in the world. I don’t have to hurry myself with anything. I want to continue teaching though. I think I have more opportunity to grow if I teach in college. Teaching elementary is one tough job. It’s rewarding, too but I’d like to teach literature, research, higher grammar/linguistics, humanities, and education subjects this time. Subjects that I’m passionate about. My classmates and I are talking about taking our Ph.D’s in UPD this second semester this year but I have second thoughts about this plan because I’m not yet a seasoned teacher. Theory and practice must correlate. I don’t want to be such an ambitious ignoramus…

Reality pushed me when I realized the scope and width of my philosophical readings are not enough for me to even criticize a literature. There are too many -isms that have to be understood. I’m learning to love knowledge. Philosophy may seem an extraordinary subject yet so ordinary when stripped of its academic robe. It’s a world of abstract ideas and mental exercises yet it’s so tangible and full of flaws, too when already used in context. I sometimes question my beliefs after reading. Yesterday I was a Marxist feminist. Today I’m a progressive-humanist. Tomorrow, who knows?!

I’ve always been an idealist but reality’s slaps, kisses and pushes can no longer be ignored. Oh, well…

Love comes when you least expect it. In fact, it comes at the most unexpected places and unexpected time.

It did come to me unexpectedly. A few months ago, I was just a 24-year old workaholic with a sad and sorry existence in this planet. I was driven but somehow I was directionless. I prayed to the heavens to take away my pains, frustrations, fears, insecurities… everything that’s just eating me up. I was lonely but I couldn’t seem to understand why I was. I felt that the world’s putting too much burden on my back (yep, I was burn-out and I didn’t realize that not until he told me).

Then he came along…

Cupid shot me not just with one but ten of his silly arrows. I didn’t know when I started falling for him. I just know that I already did even before I met him. Mushy as it sounds but when he came everything just became colorful. He put different shades of color in this grey existence of mine and I just can’t help but be happy. These days, you’ll always see me with a big grin on my face and I tell you that he’s the reason.

I’m so happy that I could do cartwheels any moment now.

Too bad he can’t be here on Valentine’s Day, though.

January 2008… I’ll be taking the comprehensive exam and hopefully pass it… Now I’m having second thoughts.

Last Wednesday the Graduate Office sent me a message that I take it August 2008. The reason? Only two of us in the M.ED in ESL program applied for the January compre and they need at least three. I texted Jureca and Paul if they’ll take it with us but only Jureca responded that she will and that we’ll study together. She can’t push it for another school year she said since she wants to avail the salary increase in her school.

Now there will be three of us! But I’m not sure now if I’ll really take it. I’ve been praying for this but I’m afraid it’ll remain unanswered. I’ve noticed that my performance in ISA as a teacher this school year isn’t outstanding. It’s not even satisfactory. I failed at Literary Contests and that one thing I’ve been asking hasn’t been granted. I’ve been praying that at least I’ll have something to add there for a better resume but all fell on deaf ears. I’m afraid it’ll be the same thing with this exam. I admit that I haven’t had enough time to study but I’m doing the best I can to make the most of my limited time. I even planned that I won’t go home so I can study but when I was told that I take the exam on Aug 2008 I felt that God’s telling me something. I don’t know what that is but in my gut I know that I’m doing the right thing of taking it this January. I even managed to convince Jureca to take it with us. I hope Sarrina and Jivsy will take it too.

This exam isn’t ordinary for me. I admit that when I took the LET I was confident that I could pass it. But not with this one. I’m not very confident about it because of my performance when I was still studying. I had numerous absences and tardiness that not even my delinquent students could rival.

But man, I had the happiest moments of my life in those classrooms. I learned and enjoyed a lot. Thank you, Jivsy for telling me that I am beautiful and witty when my self-esteem was down to negative zero. Patrick, thank you for your encouragement and your endless text messages (even when I seldom replied). Sarrina and Jureca, you taught me a lot about friendship, stress, boyfriends, and weight-loss exercises. Paul, we’ll graduate together. Antoniette, you’ll make a good Mom. To my professors, you are all such an inspiration! Ma’am Che, thank you for being patient. Ma’am Tan, you’re the kind of English teacher that I want to be!

Hay, tani kapasar ko Compre! Whoever’s reading please include me and my classmates in your prayers. Kung kapasr me, mang treat ko hehe…

Happy Holidays to all!

I feel like time is chasing me… I’ve always considered myself a time-conscious person though not an efficient one. I’m trying to be efficient as much as possible about my life. I’ve set a time frame for myself that before I turn 24 I should already have my Master’s degree. At 28 I should have my Law degree and at 30 my Doctor’s degree. Ambitious, huh? Yep, I am. Then I just realized that I’m not just ambitious but also very SELFISH. I haven’t thougt about my Mom who I’ll turn to for my education funding. I haven’t thought about my sister who’ll probably feel more insecure with all those degrees nor of my dear Sheanna who’ll probably know her Tita Tin through pictures (as I presume that I’ll be too busy to even see her). I feel so inadequate that I thought all those degrees would make me feel better about myself. For sure it won’t make me richer. It won’t make me famous either. Then, why this time frame? I’m 24 now but I feel that I haven’t accomplished anything yet. I haven’t achieved anything great. I know, I know… these externals are so based and so shallow. You’d say that the most important things in life are friends and family, health, yadaa-yadaa… But I’ve always been alone. I’m too detached from my family (folks are separated). And I have very few friends. The only thing I have left is my career. Since that’s all I’ve got I’ve at least just pour myself into it. I’m a workaholic, I know. I’m drowning all my sorrows with the time I spend in school because deep down I’m actually a very lonely girl. While checking papers the red pen bleeds with me. While i’m inside the classroom yelling at the kids I’m actually yelling for help, yelling for the need to be loved. And all those things that I consider I don’t have–friendship and family ties.. they’re all what I really yearn for and not all those degrees.

Awhile ago my fingers were itchy to get to get to the keyboard and write. I always have this feeling were I feel so emo all of a sudden that I wish I could capture everything in words and just write them down. But when I’m already in front of the monitor it just vanishes and I could only write down traces of them. That frustrates the hell out of me.

Well, it’s sembreak tomorrow. Actually, it’s no-break for me. I still have to go back to school and coach my kid for the upcoming spelling PRISAA.

Then there’s the upcoming Compre January of next year. I still have two INC’s to comply before I could register for the exam. I’m embarrassed to death in approaching my professors. I can’t concentrate very well with the review because my INC’s are bugging me the whole time. Not a day passes without my thinking about it.

I hate to talk about other people but my roommate’s such bother. Every night she goes out in the terrace and have a jerk-off session with my high school classmate. She’s bragging that she has many boyfriends and always points out my lack thereof. Should I tell her to go to hell or should I just shut my mouth up? Anyhoo, I could do both.

I’m getting older…

It’s the best of times, it’s the worst of times.

The best of times? Let’s just say that I’m growing all throughout this experience. I’m growing a thicker skin and a thicker sense of responsibility.

It’s the worst for me because I’m having one of those bad days again. I encountered one complaint from a parent. It’s not about the academics. It’s about the literary contests I was asked to be in charged with. I really couldn’t understand why she had to react that way. No, she didn’t yell nor asked me to go to the Director’s Office. She simply cried. I had no choice but to cry, too. She’s crying as a mother and that’s something I can’t relate with. I am not a mother and I probably never will be. We both cried as my students around us rush for the Moon Festival. My students were probably thinking what made their teacher cry. They’re young and they have their mothers. How can they relate to a motherless teacher like me? In the end, we both apologized to each other, saying that she needed a closure, that she needed to get it out of her chest so she could sleep. I apologized for my errors and for the damage I have caused. Now it’s my turn for me to not be able to sleep tonight.

I don’t take things lightly especially complaints. I take them too hard that I would cry and cry over it and blame myself for it. Am I a weakling? I don’t want to admit it.

Closure. How I like that word. That’s all I need from him. The more I see him, the more I’m getting over him. I’m happy the way things are turning out to be. I’m begining to have a sense of peace now that I’ve let go of him (I pray that he has done the same).

After two years he came back. It was a nasty break-up that has made me miserable for quite some time. My brain tells me to run away and forget. There’s no use. Once is enough. What else do I want from him? But my heart says love is sweeter the second time around (gawd, is this really me?). He and his silly smile. He and his trivial conversations. He and me together… those bittersweet memories that have been consuming me for the past weeks. My defenses are down. I can’t pretend anymore because that’s what I have been doing and I’m tired of it.

I might die tomorrow without telling him exactly how I feel. My dreams of us as parents to our children and of us growing old together might just be buried with me. I’m afraid that I’ll die with regrets.

Love, look what you’re doing to me…

I guess I’m just overworked that my brain (and my heart) wants to have diversion. I guess I just need more hugs. I guess I just need a vacation.