Drumbeats

“Tog, tog, tog…!” I could hear the deafening beats of the drum at dusk and dawn every day. This thunderous sound for countless times has stolen my sanity early in the morning while I was still in bed snoring. Not only that, it snatched my focus as well while I was teaching in the afternoon. More than just telling stories, I hope I’m good at showing characters too, but I struggle describing how awful this ear-splitting pound of the drum that echoes round the temple. It was dreadful, but I think got so immune to it eventually. As dusk fell yesterday and today, I had my camera ready to take some photos of monks doing this routine. This has been on for a month now.

I have finally asked my boss who is a monk about the significance of this tradition. According to him, when watch wasn’t invented yet, the beat of the drum told time for farmers to wake up and go to the field before the crack of dawn and leave the field before the dusk falls. Buddhism in this country has kept this ritual over the years. Two more months and then I will have my total tranquility back. For now, I just have to bear this strident thumping of an instrument. After all I am just an outsider.  

Full of Goodbyes

This month is full of goodbyes. And before I knew it, another special person bade farewell at noontime today. He was one of the young monks I had been teaching English for five weeks. It was a short time and wish I had known him better. He left for Sri Lanka to continue his journey as a monk for ten years. At fourteen, I find this milestone of him very strange. But he is not the only one doing the same voyage. I was told. His enthusiasm learning the language inspired me to keep doing the task. “Will you miss me teacher?” He asked me a few times, in a sweet voice. “Of course, I will.” I replied. Now I am starting to miss him. I know everything’s going to be alright for him. A decade seems a long, long way to count, and who knows, before I know it, I will see him again.

Three batches of volunteers have already gone back to their respective countries this July. And while I was writing the first paragraph of this entry tonight, another volunteer left goodbye. He was here for a week with his team to conduct a conference among young learners. His teammate has left before him last Friday in fact. And the rest of the team will leave tomorrow too. This boarding house will be quiet for a week but we are expecting another batch of guests the following weeks. And for every said ta-ta may tell a different story, but whether or not one is leaving or staying, it is just the same–the expedition continues. For now cheerio. Have a good trip! 

    

My First Root Canal Ever

It took me a week to endure an irritating toothache before I made my mind up to see a dentist. I was worried sick that I would have another tooth extracted again. So used to this remedy though. I rather have my tooth pulled out than bear this agonizing pain every so often. I am so impatient with this kind of suffering. This time, I was advised to undergo a root canal. Yes, I did heed to what the expert had to say. It was so uncomfortable still.

Now I got a dead tooth for the first time ever. Numbness, tingling, and slight pain are in constant annoyance. It comes on and off disturbing my peacefulness including my busy hours. It is in progress to recovery but so unpleasant to tolerate–at least for a few days. Lesson learned, I have to be more careful about my teeth. It so embarrassing to admit, but I also had my first dental care in thirty years.  I should see my dentist as often as required. Hmmm, I am feeling the numbness and tingling again. Anyway, I am still thankful for all the provision. 

Fresh Wound

My regular tuktuk driver came to my place an hour before the appointment. I asked him to drive me that day to see my endodontist. To kill time, I just threw a few random questions to get to know him well instead of a usual conversation. “How many children have you got?” I started off. More than just a typical response–a simple math perhaps, he told me the whole thing still. Wish I didn’t ask the question. It broke my heart so much. He could have just said two and then done, but he was brave enough to tell me how he’d lost his son in a motorbike accident four months ago. Suddenly, sorrow consumed him. I knew he was trying to hold his emotions back, but I could see that deep agony in his eyes. Seeing him almost killed me. I am a father, too.

He was only sixteen and the only son. It must have been very hard for this father to overcome that great sadness in his heart, and that longing of a dearest son, and that unbearable cry, and that hurtful reality that keeps stinging–that fresh wound still. I don’t know how he has to face it every single day or the emotion he has to feel or ignore, but he must do it and for sure face for the rest of his life. I pray for strength and inner healing will happen at the right time. It is not easy, I know, but my heart is with him.

So Emotional

“It is so strange how we started this beautiful thing together, and now I am doing it solo flight–left all alone. I feel so empty.” I expressed my feelings of isolation to my friends through Facebook. But I have to keep moving and continue doing what we have started. Of course, their kind comments made my day. It is just so bizarre feeling so lame these past days since they left. The truth is, I have been doing this stuff like forever. This only proves that I’m human after all (just kidding) having been overcome with emotion–for now.

I could have been used to this scenario by now though about people coming in and out of my life. This is not the first time to live with volunteers from all over the world as a matter of fact, I had this experience for countless years, it was just that the attachment this time was somewhat different–it was beautiful I mean. I conceived the project and these young volunteers helped me realize it. For three weeks, I had awesome moments teaching the monks with these young educators. I’ll be fine, I know, but I just can’t deny this emotional combat of feeling strangely alone at the moment.

Few and Far Between

Learning happens in different places and times, but more often than not, it is confined in a four-walled classrooms twenty-four-seven. Except for those life-in-the-field experiences I threw myself into–thankful and regretful–when bittersweet scenarios happened almost unceasing, the rest were very conventional and praxis kind of set-ups in my pursuit of education. As pleased as punch, it was in those atypical exposures I got the real message of what this world is really into–more than just a locate-the-country-in-the-globe activity. And so I will keep spreading the love to reach out and touch lives through ESL for as long as I am able to regardless who my learners are or where this endeavor takes place.

People in my groups think that I am very strange for having such goings-on, as if I care. This is where I am led to be and show goodness to. So I will never ever turn my back from individuals who put me here–not this time. Everybody deserves a good education even the one least of all we think of. I don’t want to say that there's no struggle, and yet I don’t want to restrict myself in that four corners of the learning room. When I decided to do this, some friends thought that I fell in the wrong hands because they are of different faith. It is like I am going somewhere off the beaten track where normal believers don’t go. That is my point as far as my conviction is concerned. Sure enough they don't understand this endeavor. The way I see it they really get the wrong end of the stick. If it looks like I am trying to square a circle, so be it. And if they happened to read it, they must start redefining their beliefs. This was my few and far between life–not anymore–it will take another half year.

  

Threatened

Funny it seems, but I also take pity on some people who are swallowed up by their arrogance and conceit. I just hope they discern that or else they will never ever see those pitfalls they know right. I find it sidesplitting as well when people claim to be conversant but actually far from being clued-up–not even close. This is the world we live in, and we always encounter human beings who are very pretentious but have nothing to deliver in reality. So be it! In the way that most often happens, they feel threatened whenever new ideas occur. But see, the fruit of your labor can tell whether or not you have applied those nuggets of wisdom learned in life. Because action speaks louder than words. Knowing without showing is always a question mark.

To put this recent experience side by side, it is so disappointing to see how people with less experience and know-how about teaching and yet try to be the man of the world. They are too smug about their little achievement. And I don’t get it why sharing some wisdom bruises their egos. I am very curious what they will become years from now unless these individuals will learn to eat humble pie. “I didn’t come to compete. I am here to help. And why are you threatened?” I justified when one of the teachers confronted me. I totally understand that I can’t enforce what I believe to others, but if someone is a teacher, he or she could have known it by now that learning is forever. They are two inseparable existences–teach and learn or vice versa. Because there is no such thing as static in the world of education. That is how I perceive it at least. When I had to observe classes and write a professional proposal as suggested by our Executive Director, I didn’t do it to cut the ground from under somebody’s feet–it was all for love to help this institution. I learned my hardest as an educator, and so I can tell apart a person who knows his/her stuff and the person who is know-it-all.

Drained Brain

Were it not for humility, I wouldn’t be able to filter my brain and discover something extraordinary. It started with this effort I think along with willingness to embrace knowledge even though it seemed strange to me at the beginning. I just finished grad school at that time–proud and fulfilled, and hearing an advice like “empty your mind” from someone new to me was a crazy idea. But that professor was right. And so glad I listened to her. It took me to wrestle with my pride a little while though, but when I learned to humble myself, I knew something great was about to happen. Indeed great things did happen for countless times. What I am now as an ESL teacher I owe it to my mentors, co-educators, my learners, and to every institution who believes in me. But of course, it takes two to tango to experience growth and change.

It isn’t my utmost intention to elaborate in scientific or literal sense the uses of a filter because we all know this, but to use it as analogy between a drained brain and a clogged one. The former is someone who absorbs things and knows how and when to pour some unnecessary ideas down the drain. The latter is out-and-out the opposite and clings to that learning eternally. And if this clogged brain still exists, it is impossible to see or adapt or immerse into new things easily–or never at all. Perhaps my academic orientation was different, but I am not in the right position to condemn those who are in a different boat. All I can do is suggest and it is all up to the receiver’s call–it is a choice after all.