Sunday, October 28, 2012

DRIFT



Grad school was fun except for the first few weeks when every ideology encountered seemed strange and radical. It took receptiveness and open-mindedness to get the whole picture – it didn’t matter if one is hailed from the province or not – we had to grasp them all.

My specialization was Intercultural Studies, which fed me a lot of eureka in the process – an endless aha and nonstop jaw-dropping. As interesting as it was, everyday had something to look forward to, but it was only in Cultural Anthropology I came across such a term – “cultural drift”.

The word itself has a lot of implications - a change in situation, for instance – the closest one for this matter. Fortunately, when this was asked in our final exams, I didn’t run out of example – and language drift was one of the things brought to elaboration.

I passed the course.

Years after that scholastic journey, I went back home to Manila to pursue a doctorate program. Glad to say, I stayed in a familiar neighborhood where only few unknown inhabitants around. But even known individuals can be very strange at times.

“That’s so chaca!” a friend commented.

“What’s that? Is that a Japanese word?” I asked.

“No, it’s derived from Chuckie, the ugly doll!” she explained laughing at my ignorance.

“I see” my last words.

But a language drift!

Two years later, I flew back to Manila for more modules. This time, I stayed at my sister’s house, in a different neighborhood from where I stayed before, so I could spend time with them while taking few subjects. And in one sleepless night came another funny thing.

“Hey guys, you should go home now” reminded my niece to her noisy, drunk friends. But they ignored her as if no one was really talking.

“Guys, if you don’t want a ‘pearly shell’, you must stop drinking now. It’s already late!” she insisted few minutes after the first attempt. Luckily, they dispersed.

“What’s a pearly shell?” I asked her as I burst into laughter despite annoyance.

“It means ‘to be handcuffed’ by policemen” she explained.

Crazy, but it’s just another language drift!

Everyday for two weeks, I kept hearing one strange word after another, which only one specific generation comprehends.

Again, it’s called language drift!

Certainly, my niece is not alone in this seemingly alien communiqué – there are thousands and thousands of loyalists somewhere out there - you’d see them post bizarre lingo on facebook; you’d be receiving sms from these believers; you’d probably hear them in this confusing conversation; you’d have unwanted chat on YM – thank God, not in my world at the moment.

Maybe I’m just over thinking, but actually beginning to worry that I’d be a total stranger in my own native land one day – when all this but spoken lingo should have had considered learning in the first place prior to my visit home. I hope not.

That’s undeniably language drift!

If I had to describe more words for this, it should be… SCARY, FUNNY, INFECTIOUS, STRANGE, and SPELLING FREE - obviously different than what I have written in my final exam, and what I have learned at least.

Ooops, it’s a language drift!


Friday, October 19, 2012

Two Opposite Desires


 “How old are you now, boy?” I asked my godson this morning.

“Five!” he answered.

“No, you’re not!” an aunt disproved.

At first, I didn’t actually mind giving me such response. A kid is a kid. Nevertheless, what this godfather is after to was a simple conversation – from this growing up, inquisitive kid.

“Ninong, Judsen wants to be grown up man now. Please, tell him when this will be possible.” His mother opened a way for us to have real talk with this small guy.

And so I took the chance of explaining things in his context. I thought. I asked him the same question again, but then he gave the same answer still.

“Let’s say sixteen years from now. So you should start counting today.” I encouraged him. Yet it seemed didn’t work out.

“I want to be a man now!” he insisted.

That ended our dialogue. They left me goodbye heading to school.

Have not even finished the article I was trying to write this morning – the “brain” stuff, when suddenly confronted with the irony of this all – he is so eager possessing an adult stage, while I beginning to tremble of what has to come.

Two different desires –“I don’t want to get old!” and “I want to become a man now!” are just funny realities of a godfather and a godchild ties, which both requires God’s sufficient grace to understand all.

But it’s truly a privilege knowing the mindset of a child. It may seem naive in my perspective, but it’s one’s curiosity of an inquisitive kid – of a godchild.

Last night, before bed, I prayed for him in general and what I thought God has me led to pray for. This morning was a new revelation. Thank God for the opportunity to kneel for this kid. For sure, God’s wisdom is abundant.

Just few hours ago, I posted an old-age-threatening article, now it’s totally different. But I believe grace overshadows every desire in our heart – whether a naive excitement (Judsen’s desire) or the one that needs more mercy (my fear of getting old).

Immanuel!


Thursday, October 18, 2012

Brain


A first cousin of mine named Boy, a gifted painter, was surprised to hear me read his love letter in cursive. Bewildered, he had me finish reading that two-page-blueprint of his emotion anyway, which I understood secret and sacred even at young age.

“What grade are you in?” he asked, wondering.

“First grade” I replied.

“And why you’re able to read such described writings, in different characters?”

He insisted another question as if I had a clue.

The same young years of my life, in the first and the second grade, I always gave my teachers bolt from the blue. That’s when my brain was still sharp memorizing a poem and a song in less than a day.

From word to phrase to line to stanza, I remembered them all - it didn’t matter how long or short it was. But it wasn’t in my advantage as always because I got the first roll call every time.

Wish I still have that brain – not just a mere organ inside my head that controls thought, memory, feelings, and activity – I need my brain back. Now that I’m old, I see manifestations of a brain cell’s not functioning so well.

Yesterday morning, as I was walking in the neighborhood, a young, familiar lady greeted me happily. Over a span of just few seconds, it developed a conversation – an odd one in my part trying to recall who I was talking to.

We talked and talked and pretended that I know her well, but I was actually in a mental block. When I could no longer stand the game, the great pretense, I initiated a move to get away with this awkwardness.

“Do you study English still?” I asked, without any assurance if this would give a hint.

“Oh, you were my last teacher at CWF!” she flattered me.

Then one memory after another flashed back – she was actually my Level 8 student at Conversations With Foreigners for one term, where I taught advanced students like her.

See how this thinking deteriorates reaching an old age – it distorts our brains eventually. What can I do but let reality as is.

One of the movies I watched last week was Iron Lady played by Meryl Streep herself, and which many of you are familiar maybe. The story was so fascinating and very stunning that it portrayed the quest of woman for a spot in political arena surrounded with aggressive and dominant males.

She was tough, brave, and brilliant – she is no other than Margaret Thatcher – the first and only female British Prime Minister – she’s got the brain more than just a gut – a Oxford University product. That’s the great side of the story.

The sad part of the story which had taken me perplexed was the one in her olden days – when she could no longer remember things clearly like they used to be - stricken by forgetfulness and hallucinations or schizophrenic symptoms.

Again, blame it to the brain or this aging thing. This is life undeniably humans will face - to few or to many of us when we get older and older. This is when brain is no longer competent than it was before.

“Dear Lord, may we see grace still in this unwanted stage of our lives. We ask for your wisdom to continually overflow when every little thing seem confusing. We pray for your mercy to follow us all the days of our lives especially when days seem irritating to bear. And hope for more strength that comes from you to be manifested in this olden day when every single cell is retiring or when every muscle is resistant or when our body is too weak to exist. Amen.”  



Wednesday, October 17, 2012

EDUCATOR



I may have had pursued a different major in the University – Bachelor of Arts in Journalism – to hone my gift more than just basic writing, but I also have had experiences in teaching. I started out as an assistant to the teacher in DVBS. The next time around as a lead teacher and from that turned in as a Sunday school teacher for quite sometime.

A decade in the making – that’s how I developed my passion as an educator – which I would have not acquired without the help of every mentor along the way – especially venturing into the fragile heart, and mind, and world of every fragile being called “kid”.

When I pursued another path at Ebenezer College, minored in music – Piano and Choral Conducting, teaching was also inseparable. There, thankfully, was but tremendous journey learning and relearning becoming a confident teacher more than just a sound one.  

As far as I can tell, I took necessary units in the hope of becoming a teacher - from simple methods to complex ones; from olden to modern; from mediocrity to creativity; from a predictable principle to out of this world; from conservative to radical thinking; and the like – all these in the name of education. But more than all these units, each student was given equal opportunity to teach or “hands-on” which I preferred to call it in my time.

Thanks a million to such institution and to great mentors for sharing their batons. From these lives, each student has gained great confidence.

So, never ever raise your intimidating eyebrows if one day I’d profess to you that I am an educator.

Please, don’t!

Can’t believe I’m counting on my twentieth year in the service. It is, in case one asks. But, hey, I valued my call – and wasn’t just pretending. I say this one more time, never have I taken my class as a joke – whether I was teaching back home and here abroad.

“What do you do?”

One question if I had a choice wouldn’t ask. But I always get the inquisition, myself. I think it’s so unavoidable for as long as I’m here.

“I am an English teacher.”

And don’t get me wrong for my answer nor give me that frowned face because I really am a certified TESOL teacher. Fortunately, I didn’t take mine on a jet plane, but busted my butt on this. Sure enough, I’m no typical passenger who eventually turned in an English teacher as I got on board.

In respect to others, I also invested my resources, my time, and my health for the sake of the training – Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages – that I may be qualified to teach anywhere in Southeast Asia.

It was so intense (for it was an intensive training course, indeed), but had completed all the requirements one mind thinks so impossible to complete. Not to mention those sleepless nights, those load of works to do, those number of materials to make, those pressures and stresses due to constrained time , blah, blah, blah, but was worth an experience to recall. Thanks to God’s sufficient strength, wisdom, and grace so abounding.

By the way, I was just fortunate working with people who take TESOL seriously – we just didn’t teach, we also developed our strengths – we had constant TDP (or Teacher’s Development Program) – so we were able to guard our mistakes.

And so because of TESOL, we were able to organized English Clubs in the city for years. We were not only facilitators or lecturers organizers ourselves – we touched lives through this gift.

 

Last month, over dinner, my friends and I were talking about our teaching experiences. Then one acronym a way (TESOL), we stepped back in time to how our lives started out a ride that has changed us consequently becoming English teachers.

Undeniably, there were dramas and challenges so to speak, but there were good things to name in the differing side.

What shall I say then?

Thank God for this awesome opportunity engaging in a world of TESOL.

Hope you don’t roll your eyes on me this time since I’ve laid everything in the open. After all, no one makes a good living by rolling eyes on someone.

Distantly, I always wanted to teach outside my known world aside from cross-cultural immersion. That’s when I went to grad school and concentrated on Intercultural studies. But then I thought teaching was out of the question – it wasn’t in fact. We co-teach with our professors – it is called cohort – we learn and teach or vice versa.

So that’s how I dedicated my life as an educator even before the existence of TESOL. I had both actually. Hope I’ve confessed enough – more than enough to make it known – that I’m an educator – because I am.

Wednesday, October 10, 2012

BEST & WORST BAGELS


So annoying of me to rephrase, but I will say it anyway - that traveling is always pointless without food involved. It's not because we need food, but travelers, not all though, find it interesting to have a taste of every cuisine along the way - exotic or just the plain one.

The opposite of this truth, sad to say, is that there are those who are stuck in their own comfort zone - who could not even take those food the insider has to offer - every little taste is just funny or strange.

That's when they acted like a dumb looking for a bagel in a noodle restaurant. And when the cravings gets triggering, there's a fast food a way to pacify that desperation. Thanks to these food chains around!

"What's in this bagel that many western travelers couldn't not give up?" my inquiring mind began asking.

Well, It doesnt mean haven't seen this thing, just didn't have some yet. There's much difference.

I don't really fancy western food that much, and yet I was curious to have a bite. But I've never seen any bakeries in my area selling. One, I was surrounded with Asian delicacies - and that's a valid excuse if this craving driven by curiosity cooled down.

After silent years, I stand corrected and finally had some bagels. My first time ever, last February of this year, during our Bangkok Hat Ultimate Frisbee Tournament, served as breakfast for two days (we had different choices, of course, aside from healthy fruits).

Now, I understand why western travelers always look for bagels.

Now, I know why it's so enticing and one would really give in - I fell for it!

Funny me, hey?

"I didn't know it's yummy and chewy and so indulging!"  I said to myself as I devoured one more piece... and then another piece. The following day, I had two more bagels for breakfast in the field - I didn't mind the other sandwiches.

Oh, the best I had so far. A hundred percent guarantee because the second time I had one just last month was the worst.

I bought it from a grocery store nearby. I intended to buy some bread for breakfast that evening. To my surprised, there before me some bagels displayed. For the first time in this store, and so I bought one instead in my excitement. It was quite expensive than the usual bread I buy everyday. I grabbed it anyway.
  
When I got home, suddenly my watery mouth could not wait. So I was planning to have it for a midnight snack, with a mug of coffee, but didn't give in. "Better have it in the morning to start the day" I said as I fought back the temptation. I won, ignored the craving.

But not what I have been expecting - it didn't come out as exactly anticipated. And no matter how thick the fillings, it didn't help.

It was the worst.

It ruined my day.

Then I remember the story in the Bible when Jesus cursed the fig tree for bearing no fruit - that's exactly the same feeling I had to exaggerate. That's life - we get the best at times, and we get the worst on the other hand. Just don't stop looking for the best one.

It means, I have to wait for the next's year tournament to have some delicious bagels, those real ones for sure. For now, I wont crave for some.

Don't worry, I am very logical - I wont ask for some especially when I'm in a jungle.

And no worries, I am flexible, I eat whatever served there is.