Pahirap sa buhay: Math

Sa hindi ko malamang dahilan, ipinanganak akong mahina sa math. Grabe, nung elementary hindi ako maka first honor, parati lang second kasi yung nag first ay parang calculator mag-isip.

Nung highschool napapunta ako sa science class, ang mga kaklase ko ang gagaling. Mas lalo lang nahalata ang kagalingan ko sa math. Actually kaya hindi ako nag honor nung high school dahil sumablay ang grade ko sa math nung third year. Grabe naiyak talaga ako. Gusto ngang tisurin ni mama yung teacher ko na yun. Haha!

Kaya, biyahe agad ako pa Laguna at nakipagsapalaran sa elbi.

Sa elbi, naipasa ko ang math subjects ko sa practice at dasal. Wala na akong ibang ginawa sa mga free time ko nun kundi magsolve ng algebra problems. Kaya pag nag-exam, aba, na solve ko na ito, not necessarily na naintindihan ko siya. Hahaha!

At sa di malamang pagkakataon, ang kinuha kong minor ay economics at ag econ. Matataas na economics ang kinuha ko. Yun, kulang na lang ay umikot ang mga mata ko sa mga graphs na gumagalaw. Sabi ko, ang likut-likot naman ng mga graphs na ito, bat ayaw pumirmi sa isang pwesto lang.

Naalala ko pa sa isang lecture room ng stat na may lampas isang daan ang laman, bigla na lang akong magsasalita, “Pakiulit po yung explanation, di ko po naintindihan.” Tinginan sila lahat sa akin.

Bakit ba?

Si Jaime yun na taga-devcom.

Hay, nakakatawa.

Hanggang ngayon, sa jeep pag mga may .50 na ang suklian at kailangang magmultiply ng three digits, OK na lang.

“Hijo, tama ba sukli mo?” sigaw si Manong driver. Para di na ako magcocompute, magmumukha akong busy sa diyaryo na hawak ko, at reply: “OK na ho ito”

Bakit nga ba kasi may math? Essay writing na lang.

At sea

While inside the boat going to Zamboanga from Jolo my friend saw someone in dextrose.

She was 18 years old, her mother said. She added it’s been a week since they were observing her. They thought the girl had typhoid fever. So they would be at peace, they decided to bring her to Zamboanga City.

All throughout the night the mother would wipe her with warm towel to make sure that she’s comfortable. On the other hand, the father did not sleep—walking back and forth inside the boat big enough to contain some 200 passengers.

That was a very sad scene. Imagine a girl being traveled in a boat in dextrose for 8 hours because they do not have access to a decent medical care in her province? My Muslim friend told me that the girl must be from a well-off family. Otherwise, they will just let old cures do the trick for her in Sulu.

Different images entered my mind following that scenario. What about other emergencies like giving birth? Treating contagious diseases? What about those who do not have PhP 400 for a one-way ticket to Zamboanga City? And what about those who can no longer afford to travel for 8 hours? What about them?

I stopped thinking. I did not like the images that followed.

At 4am, the boat docked in Zamboanga City port. Everybody was excited to go out of the boat. And the girl, at last, would have the chance to be treated at a decent hospital—after waiting for 8 hours.

Basic medical care is among the basic needs of humanity, and yet there are many who do not have access to it. Not just in Sulu, but in many parts of the country.

I have long been asking myself why. Why is poverty so persistent? Why is inequality so pronounced such that many have gotten used to it?

Alas, the answers must have drifted away at sea.

Preface

….Going back on me and my friends’ comfort zone

Whew! It’s good to be back. Thanks best, for welcoming me again. You really made me feel light. Well, I supposedly have a lot of stories to tell. It has been ages since I post on our blog.

A long list of things happened since July 15 (date of my last blog), I celebrated my 25^th birthday, got a dinner meeting with Matell and Jaime, assisted as wedding planner for Chee and Jonas’ wedding, facilitated sports activities in the office – basketball, bowling, badminton- name it, bonding moments with my family, watched a good number of films like GI Joe, the Proposal, Up, attended a Psychogenetic Retreat, celebrated with my family on my cousin’s first birthday and my uncle’s graduation as military reserve corps, and still a lot number of things.

For sure, this would be sooo free style. My thoughts are shooting anywhere.

How will I start my post? I don’t know

What will I post? A lot of things

But how can I put in a short time? Just write

Well , I just missed my two good friends here, Matell and Jaime. The atmosphere is very very welcoming. Matell urged me to post first. And Jaime too, he wanted me to post my draft “When Anger breaks”. It is the draft I started when Jaime and I were not so “in good terms”. I told him earlier that the post will be too emotional and maybe full of angst which I believe would be unfit if I would post it.

Anyways, I missed writing here.

Perhaps, this will serve as a “preface” on the things that I would be writing soon (or simply an acknowledgement to my two good friends).

“Meet new friends. And keep the old.

One is silver and the other gold”

My nephew

On our way to Bicol last year we passed by the dinosaur statue along the national highway in Lucena City. My nephew who was 3 years old then said, “may kapatid yan nag school. Yung magulang niya nag work pareho kaya mag-isa lang siya.” We were all stunned by what he said. JM is turning out to be a very loving person. He is so attached with people around him.

Last long weekend, I decided to go to my brother’s house in Cabuyao where I lived for 4 years in college. Fortunately, my sister, now living in Quezon City, also decided to go there. It was like a reunion. My brother sort of missed me. It’s been a few months since I last visited him. And there was JM. He was just so happy to see us.

We did not have time to waste so I raised the idea of us going out. Just to go out. My brother agreed and in a few hours we found ourselves traveling to upper Laguna. We went to Caliraya Lake, the Japanese Garden (awesome!, very peaceful), and we ate in Kamayan in Bay. It was a splendid day. My brother also waited until I met my friends in the same place. My Ate Ping (my kitchenmate taking her MS in UPLB) celebrated her birthday last Sunday.

Then Monday came. My sister and I were busy preparing ourselves to travel back to our bases—she to QC, me to Nueva Ecija. We hugged and kissed each other, was so noisy immediately scheduling our next meeting. That was it. Time to go.

JM was all of a sudden silent. He was so snobbish. My sister-in-law said he is like that.

He hates goodbyes.

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.