Rubber trees

A tree with more than a thousand uses—the rubber tree.

In Basilan, huge rubber tree plantations abound. Rubber trees could be the reason why Basilan is the only ARMM province, which does not belong to the top 40 poorest provinces of the Philippines.

While reviving that wonderful trip to a rubber tree plantation in Basilan, I just thought how selfless a rubber tree could be.

Before those sturdy rubber-based products get into the market, thousands of rubber trees endure the pain of being beaten by bolos just so latex could come out of them. And mind you, not a cut is enough, once there is no more latex coming out from the original cut, another cut is made. The process goes on.

Painful.

But rubber trees are strong. They remain standing amid all the cuts. Young rubber trees can’t do that, only the mature ones can.

Only a mature rubber tree can ooze out substance in the form of latex-- to breathe life into thousands of industries and to millions of people depending on them. Only a mature rubber tree can give off towering shade. Only a mature rubber tree can go beyond itself. Maturity enables it to “realize” that there’s a bigger, nobler purpose for its being.

Sa kasalukuyan

Sa mahabang panahon, parati na lang akong nalulungkot. Hinahanap ang sarili, at para bagang parating nawawala. Pinili ko pang mapunta sa malayong lugar sa pag-asang maibsan ang kalungkutang pilit na bumabagabag sa akin. Pagbalik ko sa Luzon, napagtanto kong wala namang nabago. Ako pa rin ito-- balisa at walang bait sa sarili. Nawawala, naghahanap.

Ilang beses kong pinilit na iwaksi ang nakalipas. Kalimutan na meron akong mga dinadala. Wa epek.

Kinailangan kong harapin ang kalungkutan. Lumuha, at ipakita ang tunay kong sarili. Ipahayag ang aking nararamdaman. Sa mahabang panahon, ako ay nababalot ng hiwaga ng sarili kong pagkatao.

Hanggang naabot ko ang ngayon. Hindi ako nalulungkot. Nakakaya kong ngumiti. Nagagawa kong harapin ang isang buong araw balot ng pag-asa. Natutuwa ako. Nakikita ko ang mga magagandang bagay sa aking paligid.

Kailan pa ba nag-umpisa ito?

Hindi ko rin alam. Ang tanging wari ko ay nagbago ang panahon. Naramdaman ko na lang na magaan ang pakiramdam ko. Ngayong hinahayaan kong tangayin ako ng hangin, ng panahon. Ngayong malaya kong sinusundan ang yapak ng aking mga paa. Ang aking mga paa: nagkaroon ng sariling diwa. Ang aking isip, nagkaroon ng sarili niyang buhay. At ako mismo, nagpapanibagong anyo: handa para sa bagong umaga.

Teaching

I never imagined that I could be a teacher. Especially not in the immediate future. But here I am, teaching part-time, with more than 60 16 to 18 year olds under my care. Almost nightmarish.

Two weeks ago, I got an early morning call from the college asking me to come to their office for an interview that same day. I was barely awake then and I was a little disoriented, so I said yes. Vaguely, I remembered that I made my resume available long ago, when I was bored and looking around for something else to do without thinking too much about it. I didn't think that something would come out of it.

I arrived at the school not knowing what to expect. I wasn't even nervous; it all seemed comical to me during that time. I went right up to the HR office where they told me the dean would be inteviewing me. The dean!

To make the long story short, the 3-minute interview went by like a blur. Suddenly the dean smiled and said, "Welcome to the school!" Before I knew it, my teaching load was being printed and I will be teaching the very next day.

I was in shock. I was suddenly nervous and queasy and confused. What have I gotten myself in to, I wondered. I wasn't sure if teaching was cut out for me, and what can I possibly teach my students? I was losing heart with every step closer to the classroom. The thought of the teacher being more afraid than the student made me chuckle. It sounded ridiculous.

Facing the sea of students, I reached for the remaining dregs of confidence left in me and began the class, starting with getting to know yous and the basic stuff that teachers say during the first day. Eventually, as days went by I felt myself loosening up and enjoying the hours. Sure, some of the students are rowdy, bordering on disrespect even. I wonder if I should get angry, show them some authority. But somehow, I couldn't do it. I look at them thoughtfully and request them to participate in the discussion, counting on kindness once again -- hoping that if you believe enough in the students, they will start believing in themselves as well.

Another unavoidable and inevitable part of teaching is the paperwork and preparation for class. The mountain of papers to check. Sixty different handwritings to decipher. It has become even more time-comsuming than my full-time job. I get exhausted juggling both every single day.

Last week, after I have dismissed the class, one of my students commented loudly, "Ma'am... you seem to be a very kind person." (Students guffaw and started ribbing each other) "No, seriously," said my student, "You're a very good teacher."

And now here I am, thinking about all these on my way back to Batangas, staring out the window as I think about all the other things I can impart to my students so that they can learn how to make sense of the millions of choices that they have before them.