Waking up a sleepy head in the classroom

If I were teaching grade school or high school, be it public or private, I could fail an observation evaluation when my supervisor spots a student sleeping in the classroom, while a discussion or any activity is going on. I could be summoned in the principal's office for negligence of "duty" and failure to manage the class well. Worst, I would lose my job.

In principle, a teacher ought to be an effective manager, monitoring the behavior of every learner in the classroom, keeping their attention "seemingly" focused on the teacher, the content of the lesson, and what is going on in the four walls of the classroom. This is if follow the classical behavioral approach of teaching, traditionally. Further, in principle, the instruction should extend from teaching the content and competencies to enabling the students to acquire and demonstrate valued traits.

I rather look at a classroom situation with an open mind, and I treat and understand my students with the breadth and depth. Now, that I have embraced teaching for 15 years, I am still learning from what goes on in the class, each day and each meeting I would meet my students. Each time is different and offers me new learning and sometimes challenges me to rethink my perspectives on teaching and learning.

I just can't be stuck on comparing myself while I was at their age, while I was young and schooling -- simply because I am dealing with a different generation, amid the gap of more than half my age. Counting, I must have more than 15,000 students who passed my mentoring. Of those, I could recall only five instances of students sleeping in my class.They too, passed.With the first four, I called their attention, with the last and most recent one I let them slept throughout the period until I was just about to dismiss the class. 5 over 15,000 is a probability of 0.0033 (if my computation is right) which I should expect to happen in the next 15 years of my career.

The first two happened a decade ago, the third three years ago, and the last two, just within these week, after long days of class suspension and while finals is just a few days away. Could I say that the trend of spotting a sleepy head in the classroom is increasing over time?


In my earlier teaching years, the first instance was during my first year of teaching in college. He was already sleeping. I looked at everyone, and gestured at them to be quiet. I called each name in the class roster softly, and yelled when I called the sleepy boy's name. He sat up straight, then pretended to be attuned and ready for the class. A few minutes past, he was at a hype, laughing like he was drank. No, he wasn't drank, but drugged which his classmates confirmed. I got to talk to him about it, after the class, and he never repeated that.

The second time, a student slept in my class, was in a military school abroad. He was just ensign. I called the other soldier beside him, and signalled to wake his classmate up. He greeted me good morning, and I greeted him back. Then, in his cranky voice, he told me "he is tired". I replied, that I was also tired, and told him, that we don't have a choice but to do what we have to do. Him as student should study, and I as teacher should teach. Never again, that instance happened in the class.

The third student who slept in my class, had the same reason that he was tired. I knew he was sleeping, so I called his attention. He was patted by a seatmate to wake-up. After that, he went back to his sleep. I was lecturing then, and I could not waste my time and the presence of those students who are eager to learn, by getting mad out of the ominous feeling of being "disrespected". I diverted the lesson, from lecture to a group activity, but, too late one student had picture of him sleeping in my class, with me as background explaining the lesson. The picture was flashed on the screen, next meeting, and never again did that happen in that class.

The fourth and fifth instances just happened within this week. This is the hell week that my students consider, when they are frantic about completing their requirements, projects and assignments, and cramming due to procrastination. I am aware of that situation, so I made adjustments to my lesson pace, but in these classes, we needed to finish one more learning activity.

Earlier, one student came late, his face is soggy and actually asked me if he could go to the clinic. I asked how he was feeling, he said dizzy. I asked if he had a fever, he said no. I told him to stay, and complete the activity, and he could leave as he finished, as I knew he could do it fast, based on his performance record. He was still reciting when I explained the lesson, but when I gave the writing task, his eyes were drooping and his head like magnetized to the paper. He slept. I didn't bother to wake him up, the same thing with what I did to the last student.

However, with the last student who slept in my class. I didn't bother to talk to him like i didn't bother to wake him up. He used to be very responsive and active in the class. He was gasping for breath when he came in, after he, along with his classmates, took his project from another floor. He just slept, quietly at a corner of the room, after a few minutes of my lecture. I just placed the worksheet at the empty desk near his seat. While I was looking at the class, and him, I could not stop thinking about what he did last night and what time he slept.

We didn't get a chance to talk about his sleeping in the class, but I told him when was awake that he missed two activities, one was an assignment he did not submit, the other was that day's activity because he was sleeping. I could not hold myself from posting a status in my FB wall about the incident. One of his classmate tagged him to this post:

The next day and the last day of our meeting for the term, he submitted his missed assignment. He did not submit yesterday's activity, because I told him that I would not accept it anyway and that's the consequence of sleeping in the class. He was apologetic and promised that it will never happen again. I told him, it won't because that was our last day of meeting.

I never dozed in the class because I wanted to learn. I never dozed in the class because I had done things before their submission. I never dozed in the class because I was busy all night. I remember those college days, that I had to drink coffee 5 times just to stay awake for my 6 pm class.

I got comments from friends and relatives that I should have woke him up and I should have called his attention because they think sleeping in the classroom is disrespectful. I had an inkling that they sense I was disrespected. Not, at all. I found it funny really to see one dropped his head on the desk, mouth open and totally knocked away from the class activity. There's only one sign in the room, "no eating or drinking". I am not sure if there is in the student handbook a rule that says, "no sleeping".

I got a little upset, I admit. At that time, I was asking myself how boring the class was, but he was asleep  while the rest were actively involved? His sleep deprivation could have caused it, not the classroom activity, besides the classroom lighting and airconditioning are really conducive for sleeping. He slept, that's it, I did my role afterwards, and no other meaning attached to it.

Honestly, I don't find him disrepectful for dozing in the class, and I don't feel disrespected either. Respect to me comes from being respectable in many other ways, not just by calling the attention of a sleepy head, in an obvious interruption of a natural bodily response to sleep deprivation. We are all awaken to our mistakes by consciously knowing we have committed a mistake. There's no mistake in sleeping, a power nap is even advised in some unconventional schools and offices.  Maybe, he should have asked me if he could sleep, politely? That's unnecessary for a teacher who knows his students as he knows himself.

Anyway, after submitting his missed activity and grading it, he made to get a passing mark. Whether he learned from his mistake, that is for him since he is a college student already.

Love or Dependence?

When do we really know if we are still in love or has become just dependent to a partner we have lived with?

I am neither a psychologist nor a love guru. Yet,  I stood there at a corner, on a gloomy afternoon,  in front of a woman whose eyes were still wet from tears, inaudibly asking for some answer.  

She's a woman of faith, a sweet mom to two kids, a faithful wife to an infidel husband, a very dear friend of mine. We didn't quite see each other for a while, due to conflict in our schedule, but we have a had a lot of time to talk our hearts out in the past. I felt more obliged to answer her last question, after she intimated to me while I have my lunch, that she just got confused.

I am to be blamed for her confusion, but I encouraged her that such state of confusion, is good as she is starting to think, to question, to challenge her beliefs and to assess her feelings. It's a moment so critical for her to understand her life situation and be in control again, by rewriting her life-script and not just acting based on someone's script. I feel for her, and I can't just let go of our conversation without a word.

Breaking down in tears, signals to me that she's broken and beaten, not physically but emotionally. It is her faith in the Church she's clinging into. My point of view is rather eclectic, from an empowering feminist stand point for her to stand strong and decide to separate from the cause of her anxiety - her husband, to a rather practical advise of coming into terms of letting go of her anxiety over the financial difficulty it would cost her and her children should he separate from him, and holding on to the littlest love she still has for him.

I sense she's not happy, not happy at all, although she would throw smiles at me when I would divert our chat to jokes. I could not insist what I think is right, for only her can determine her direction. She agreed though, when I told that she has many options and she must choose from them, and make her decision. She told me that I sounded like the Monsignor she confided when I told her that she could cling on love no matter how little that is left. 

The parable of Mustard seed was running in my head at that time. I was thinking that love is as powerful as faith that can move mountains, and that God is love. Then she asked, like a child so innocent, but yearning for an answer. She asked softly: "When do you know if it is still love and not dependence?" 

I said I don't know, but knowing how our conversation went at lunchtime, and how her teary eyes mirror what's in her heart, I felt obliged to grope for a helpful answer. I could only think of what St. Paul taught about love: "Love is patient, love is kind... it rejoices in the truth, it does not wrong... love never ends."  I could not in verbatime recall what St. Paul wrote in his letter to the Corinthians, to wit:

“Love is patient, love is kind, love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way, it is not irritable or resentful, it does not rejoice in wrong doing, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes in all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends. (I Corinthians 13:4-8, New Revised Standard)”

Yet, i guess what I said sufficed to answer her question. That as love for St. Paul in his teaching is universal to apply in any relationship where people are tucked by their ideation of "love". I asked, "is it love if you are becoming impatient to the person you think you love, and to the situation you are within?" We are not patient when we are anxious.  I furthered, "if love is kind, then you will have to be kind to the other person, and he is kind to you, you to yourself. Any abuse could make you angry, and afterwards you will turn that anger to yourself, and to others, or even to your children."

I continued, "any form of abuse is wrong, how then you allow for something wrong to go on?" Then I said, "love rejoices in the truth, and the truth is you are problematic, you are anxious, because things are wrong, which you didn't expect". The last thought I could say to encourage her, is that "love endures, if you want to hold on to because you still have the littlest love for him, then go on and let it flourish as you bear with what love brings".

Honestly, I told her that she should check on what she feels and what she thinks. She's like any woman, vulnerable to how a man could play with power and control, with his resources, with his money or brute force. Her case is just different, her felt abuse is emotional and psychological, nothing physical. She's contradiction of the man she loved or loves, who does not remain faithful to his wife nor his religious belief (should he still have). As such, she has anchored her life to person who has the resources, she and her children would definitely need to survive.

It is not love that binds two people if they are co-dependent on each other. That has to be other things, material things, security, comfort, privileges and perks, but never love. Love is freely given and respects freedom from two independent individuals who developed interdependence. The couple being interdependent, generously shares their time, is sensitive of each others feelings and emotions and resolves issues to keep their relationship. There's equality and sharing of responsibilities as each empowers another. There is understanding of their weaknesses, and forgiveness is brought by that understanding. As there is commitment, there is a sense of responsibility to remain faithful and so love endures.

I cannot fathom love, no one can. St. Paul's writings only illuminates that great mystery in love. We only understand it, when we love, but never could we speak about it when we don't have even a little of it in our hearts. Has my friend grown overly dependent on her husband? I could answer that, but she can best answer it for herself. Is it love or dependence?  I know she knows.

Centering our Life

The center of our life should redirect us to appreciate our self and others, because that drives us to love who we are, who we care about and what we do. If we find our self alienated in a relationship or in any situation, the center doesn't hold balance to keep us in desirable motion. We need to find our self back and check our footing based on our personal life's center.
 

Naturally, our bodies operate through the command of the central nervous system. Every cell in our body has a center called nuclei, and every element of matter consists of central atoms. Physically, everything on the ground is pulled by a central force called gravity. The earth and all other planets in the solar system revolve around the sun due to the force coming from the center of that star. Galaxies have centers that hold everything together in the vastness of space where they hang. Socially, there are centers in which human activities flourish.

There are material evidences to the abstract concept of center applied to life, as I have described. That center seems to provide meaning, direction and substance to our thoughts, beliefs, words, feelings and actions.  Consider, kilometer zero. In geographical terms, it is a point of origin from which the distance and location of another point is measured. It's valued as zero. Thus, it is nothing numerically, yet it is so valuable in knowing where we are and finding where we want to go. The seemingly unnoticed center is conduit to who we really are.

Our centers, in a push and pull function, are vital to our life’s motions. Our psyche can be best understood through this center. Our identity also operates from the power of this center. The center is at the core and its power is transferred and projected as an energy that is perceivable and which could affect us and others we socially deal with. But what could this power in our psyche’s core be?

Values: our standards that guide our life, the worth we place on objects and subjects within and around us, and the virtue we hope to share with others we have to live with. These motivate us to define our life course, to behave in ways we do, to make important decisions, to choose words that we utter, to be mindful of others, and to be cognizant and responsible with our thoughts and actions. They are abstract concepts that only matter when we consider them to have worth.

Our aspirations, our dreams and our ambitions are mere projections of what we value in life. Our goals are but expressions of what lies in our psyche’s core. Our attitude towards others and towards situations in our life is also determined by our values. Our judgment of what we can perceive also find grounds on our held values. While our responses to life problems could be situational, our values act as gatekeepers in our decisions. Strongly held values become instinctive, while loosely held values don’t gain influence in human actions.

There are those who think dichotomously that values could be negative or positive, but it is a spectrum. There is a neutral value, neither nor. The degree varies. The mathematical representations of positive and negative values in the Cartesian plane have absolute representations in the calculations.

What is valuable in life ought to be positive. With that, life’s motion is in a constant positive spectrum. This is if we are after a good life. Values must be shared, if not we will be finding ourselves in difficult situations, going after different directions, and getting lost somewhere.  

When we value our self positively, we are able to love our self. When we value others equally as we do to our self, we are able to love them as we would with our own life. When we value life and value excellence, we strive to be the best of who we can be and be the best in what we can do. Then, we are esteemed by our actions. When we value collegiality and quality, we work with others productively and proactively to yield gains. Then we appreciate our efforts and so esteem our self. 

Values that we hold must be positive. We ought to value beauty and not vanity. We ought to value friendship over benefits. We ought to value time over idleness. We ought to value people over material things. We ought to value wealth and not money. We ought to value quality and not mere quantity. We ought to value character over uniqueness. We ought to value our voice over words.  We ought to value justice over fairness. We ought to value life, and in that we ought to value what is excellent and virtuous. 

As we keep our values intact, we flourish as an individual and we find our self in harmony with others. But, when we are alienated, we are at lost as we do not know our self. The lost of our self-worth could lead us to love our self less and care less for others, too. As we lose our values, we lose our self, so we must go back and find our center -- that of what we hold dear the most.   

Should we center our life on someone? Not at any person in this world is worth to become the center of our life.  Instead, we should set our eyes on far greater things above, for everything in this world is fleeting in time.

Study Hard or Study Easy?

 Photo source: http://hwstheherald.com/wordpress/2011/05/06/the-where-why-and-how-of-studying/

Studying in college is a lot different from studying in high school. Freshmen students find it more difficult to survive their first year of college as they are in a period of transition and adjustment. Breaking through this transition period requires a student to study well in order to succeed and achieve higher performance. Studying well doesn’t have to be hard, it has to be easy.

Study Hard

Students who study hard take longer time in reviewing, in reading texts, and in working on their assignments and projects. They stay late at night, and they don’t find enough time to complete their school requirement. Studying hard means exerting much effort, yet the quality of their output is still the same. 

Students who fail in their academics would also say that they studied hard, but then their performance still show otherwise. Studying hard is understood to be straining the body, stressing the mind to think and stretching the available time.  In some cases, they need to do over their assignments because they were just rushing to do it. 

Those who study hard, do a lot of things which are not even part of their priorities. They spend so much time on less important things and so they find difficulty in completing their requirement. Those who study hard are too preoccupied of other things so they take a hard time in meeting their academic expectations. 

On the other hand, they have no expectations at all. Without a set goal and a set of priorities, they do so many things that are not even necessary for them to do well in their academics. They do not have the drive to achieve because they just do not have goal before them. Their actions are mere dependent on what is taking place at the moment. 

Study Easy

Students who achieve and who succeed in college are often found by others to be doing easy on everything. They seem to find the subjects easy to understand, and they could comply with the requirement with less problems. They know what to do and they know what they want in their status as students. They study with ease. For their teachers, they are a lot easier to handle. They study well.

Students who study easy have clear expectations or goals that they want to meet. They know their priorities in life, and their academics is on top of their priorities. They set the things beforehand, like what they have to do for the day, for the week, for the term. They have a clear end in mind. They strive to achieve that end over time. With their priorities in mind, they know how to use the time they have without even waiting for the deadline.

Students who study easy are active learners. They take down notes. They listen attentively. They ask questions for clarifications. They openly share their ideas and they are humble to accept correction. They use their spare time to review their lessons and they even do advance readings of the topics they need study in a course. Thus, when there are questions during recitations, they could easily respond.  Because they are active learners, they are able to fathom knowledge and to judge them critically. While being critical, they are also open to communication and they willingly share their ideas to others.

Students who study easy have strategies to overcome their learning difficulties or which are suited to their learning preferences. They read voluminous texts with ease, because they know how to preview the material and they have trained their eyes to read rapidly without losing comprehension of the text. They understand numerical problems because they know the basic operation at work. They seek help when they needed it. They use graphic organizers, highlight ideas, paraphrase key concepts, summarize and synthesize. They improve their memory skills through various techniques. They prepare for exams with their personal reviewers.

Students who study easy are engaged in the learning process. They are immersed in the learning experience with high motivation that comes from within them. They take learning with a positive attitude and strong interest, even if their teacher or the classroom climate is not that interesting. As they are engaged into learning, they take steps to learn on their own and to monitor their own learning performance. They are self-regulated learners.  

How do you want to Study?

To succeed in college, one does not need to study hard, one simply has to study with ease. EASE is setting Expectations, Actively learning, using Strategies, and fully Engaging in the learning experience. That is taking every learning experience as an opportunity to improve one’s self and to achieve one’s goal. Studying easy should lead to student’s success without doing things hard and having difficulty to overcome academic challenges. 

The Wait is Over (2013)

 

We have come a long way. Are you tired so you stopped?

I cannot carry you, should I like to go on

When you do not want to continue what started.

It was my journey all along, travails  - my own.

We ought to be moving to get there together,

Weaving dreams out of momentary forever.

Silence slowly exhausts my spirit that would soar.

Suddenly, I did not know you like as before.

Have we reached the crossroads in time, and so part ways?

Have you gotten tired of my madness in our days?

That desire to keep on 'come my struggle alone.

I'm moving on, that I have to leave you on your own.

Is the end of the world for real?

This morning while I sip coffee, looking at the cloudy sky, my nephew hugged me and asked. "Is the end of the world for real?"

He was just eight years old, two years younger than I am when I first learned of the end of times. I was ten, back in 1985 when I watched a free movie sponsored by a Christian protestant group. From then on, I was scared and had bad dreams related to the apocalypse.

That was the selling point of such group to win people towards their congregation: scare the people to repent and turn back to God. I never joined their group, but I  browsed on the book of Revelations, from the small Bible they gave free. What did I see in the movie that scared me?

People killing each other, people dying, people hiding and fleeing from the evils of the human world, which stressed on the rise of the antichrist. Very few were saved, and found life anew in the new world. The recent movies like Armageddon,  2012, Independence Day, The Day After Tomorrow share the same doomsday message, but with hope that human civilization will survive after all.

I've heard of the end of times since the news on the depletion of the ozone layer broke out in the 80s, and the many other viruses discovered back then which plagued societies around the world. I've heard it again in the 90s when war broke out in the Middle East. I've heard of it once more spurred by the Y2K bug scare. Then again when the Twin Towers in New York billowed to dust.

Now, natural disasters are ever getting worst. World economies are up to keeping their security and beefing up their military. There is a threat to human life, in a wide scale with amassing nuclear arms, biochemical weapons, and global scale terrorism. There is threat to human life in small scale, but with huge emotional impact, just like that of the massacre of school children in China and in the US. There is threat to my country's sovereignty over issues of territorial waters. There is threat to our lives as natural resources are depleting to give way to modernity. There is threat to life when the values that we hold degenerate and lose power over our sanity and morals.

"Is the end of the world for real?"

I could not answer my nephew's question, though he really wanted an answer that time. In my mind I reconciled that I don't know, though I believe its real and it will surely happen. I wanted to keep that hope, that dream for living life in these kids - another generation who in their own time will try to ask the same question again as they grow older.

To me the end of the world has several perspectives. It is dying from decaying worldliness and rising up to a new life which values life in its best. It can be brought about by natural disasters which humans are responsible for. It could be brought about by the greed for power which strikes war and eradicates societies. It could be brought by our neglect to care for other lives, in our own little way. It could be the lost of hope that there is something to live for.


With those in my mind, I could never answer an eight year old's question whether the end of the world is for real? I don't want him to grow up in fear, but rather hoping and believing that life is a beautiful gift God gave for us to appreciate in every minute of our lives. 


Funny, just tonight, I went out and heard of young kids cracking jokes of the end of the world. Traffic should be really heavy on the road due to Christmas rush, not so many cars are around, not so many people in the streets, and no queues at the gates of the malls. Are people really that scared for something so catastrophic we could not expect and would not want to happen, that they ticked off schedules tonight? I wonder how it would be like tomorrow?

Wath's skouling four smone width dyslexia?

I've heard of dyslexia, but I had to learn more about it when someone in my class had it. The empirical works I've read so far enriched my knowledge about this reading disorder, but it was with the Bollywood film "Every Child is Special" that I understood by heart the feeling of suffering from dyslexia and what schools should do about it.

Indeed, being knowledgeable with a special learning need is important, but without empathy knowledge is just put to waste. After watching the movie, I cried a river and then I thought I would like to make a difference and never repeat a mistake of letting go of a beautiful mind from my care. To my recollection, I did not stand for what is right and just for a student who is challenged by dyslexia.

He came in my class, sat at the last row, but with the best view of the projector and me in the center during our lectures. Mac, that's what he wanted me and the rest of the class to call him. He was the only student in that group of challenged learners who could respond wittingly with intelligent answers. With the first writing diagnostics they had, I was baffled that he was committing gross mistakes in spelling.

It was just carelessness. Then I thought it could be dysgraphia. Later on I realized that he had dyslexia. That encounter with Mac, forced me to do some research and readings on his condition. He could not tell it to me, until his mom intimated his condition during our parents-teachers consultation. What surprised me the most is that with his writing, he demonstrates proficiency in the language structure, and understanding of the grammar rules and word functions. Except that he has difficulty in spelling.

He passed the first term. He passed the second term. While he was under my instruction in the first term, I invited him for tutorials, and we started relearning phonetic reading. He's got little progress. In the second term, his teacher complained of the same thing - his spelling errors. I explained that Mac has dyslexia and he has determination to overcome it. As he has that reading disorder, I advised the teacher to adjust the evaluation for him and allow him to use tools such as a laptop in writing.

He got one of the lowest mark in his writing class, but he passed the subject anyway. Third term was about reading. Although, I was able to advise his teacher regarding his condition, he did not make it in that term. The teacher's observation was that he had slow reading ability, and he had lower comprehension and that he's handwriting could not be understood, and that most of the time he is distracted and would be talking so much. That devastated me.

Mac had the talent for the arts. He could capture what his eyes could see in his artwork. I could remember how he draw me on the board, showing how I look like when I smoke outside the school. He is artistically intelligent, and he has no intent of majoring literature or linguistic. He is much interested in completing a degree in multimedia arts. I knew he would be successful in such field. But, I could no longer see that dream fulfilled because he failed in his last English subject and for that he was dismissed in the college preparatory program.

He was one my brightest student, and he has great potentials. He has the determination and persistence to overcome his reading disorder. It is the school's means to help a student like him which is lacking. It is the teachers' empathic understanding of such condition that is preventing a child like him to achieve something.  It is the standards of "normal" that keeps a learner with special needs who has special talent that makes the school harder for the challenged learner.

I could only do what I can, and I cannot compel other teachers whose mind are narrow to consider one student unprepared and unfit for college. I pity them more, than those students who persevere to overcome their personal challenges, because they think that the classroom is a box for manufactured learners that passed strict quality testing.

Dyslexia is a reading disorder, resulting from a brain malfunction. It has implications to the cognitive ability to comprehend, read and write. It is worsened by the learning environment's lack of knowledge, attention and support to the needs of the learners suffering with it.  It is a reading disorder and not a psychological disorder, it can be remedied by reintroducing the language and helping the learner connect the symbols to the sounds and to the objects in their world. Giving up on them, is giving up on giving them a beautiful life they can have in this world.

What's the school for anyway?

A Big Question Mark

One of my student drew a big question mark in that space where he should draw a symbol he could associate to his dream career. A big question mark it is, which he explained to best describe his present situation: that he did not have anything in mind yet or still unsure of the course he would take. He furthered that he is waiting for what God wanted for him.

I listened intently as I allowed him to share his ideas to our group discussion. It is understandable for him to have no career choice, yet at his age and because he is in a college-preparatory program. But since he applied to college, he should placed several choices in his entrance application. Yet, he did not tell of anything specific about the course he wanted.

Earlier, he introduced himself as a Christian and not a Catholic. I admired him for his expression of faith, and being bold to tell about it. In our recent activity where I asked my class of 22 students to draw any symbolism of their dream career, this boy just put a question mark. I knew what it meant, but I had to wait for what he would say.

When he was done, I had to share my thoughts about his thinking right there and then. I told him it is alright to spend some time thinking about what he wanted. He said he wanted what God wills for him. That is one very beautiful thought from a young believer. I told him that God speaks in many ways, through other people. I told him that to know what God wills, one needs to see where he is. What God wants is where we are, and the best of what we can be.

I explained, that God gave us the freedom to choose, and the will to become the best of us. We have the gift of mind that comes with the gifts of life and time. With our will comes our choice, and God wants us to make better choices every time. We can choose to act, but in some instance our actions may not prosper - because that is not what God wants for us. "God wants the best for us, and the best in us." I told him. The best in us is making a choice for our life, for our future and offering everything we do for God's glory.

I told him so many things, and he was just paying attention. Then he said: "Right, sir. I should make a choice for me."
 

Everyone will get old

When I was invited to watch the Phantom of the Opera at the CCP, I decided that I'll get two tickets. One for me and the other for my mom. She's at her 70s and with an arthritic knee, she carries her big body a little slowly now. I will have to wring my arms over hers for support if we walk together. I will have to walk at her pace and always be at her side when we go out.

I am nearly half her age. If she would have been a little younger, like twenty years younger, I could have taken her with me in the places I've traveled. Oh yeah, I did take her recently, when I toured her to Bohol and Cebu. As I know that she might need some company, I took my sister to assist her. That time, she has knee pain, and even so I insisted that she take some walks.

She wanted to, but she just couldn't. When we were in Bohol, she tried to climb up a reserved area where they keep the Tarsiers. She was able to get maybe 10-15 meters climbing slabs of stones. Then, she decided to stay up there and let me and my sister continue with the trail. I had to pick her up when we're done site seeing. Because she was with me then, I could not just be the adventurer. I hired a car to tour us for a day. When we were in Cebu, we had to take the cab and limit our travel to that with less walking.

Recently, when I took her to CCP, I had no idea where we would be seated. We were at the balcony, and getting up there was not easy for my mom. She managed though, but I sure could see how age is trying to beat her enthusiasm. She enjoyed the show, really, and that fills my heart to know. But when we stepped out of the theater I felt so bad that access for the elderly was not available in the building.

Everyone was going out, and that left the escalators and elevator jam-packed with people. Politely, my mom just stood there behind the long queue. No other staff assisted the people to make sure that they get to leave the theater smoothly and safely. The elevators were not adjusted to service only going down at that time the show was over. One side kept scrolling up when no one is going up.

Thankfully there are people who would give way to an elderly, but many are just not that mindful of them. When we we were going down the stairs, my mom would stop. She told me to "let others pass first". True, there are many people behind us, and my mom's slow movement seemed to her as blocking others' passage. I told her not to mind them, encouraged her to just keep on walking at her pace. I thought "they should know that my mom is an elderly and everyone will get old". At the escalators, two young ladies allowed my mom to go down first. I had to quickly be at her back, and return that kind gesture with heart felt thanks.

With the hurrying crowd, I could sense how she would try to rush, like trying to tell her legs and knees to move a little faster. When we got out to cross the street so we can dine by the bay, there were just so many people outside. One man was blocking the pedestrian crossing by the gutter. My mom would say "makikiraan po" (excuse me). That guy should have sensed that he was blocking the way.

While crossing, my mom was trying to hurry. We were left behind a few meters from the crowd that had just crossed. I told her to relax, and just walk at her leisure,  for those drivers should know that an elderly is crossing. Then, memories flashed in my head, when my mom would help me crossed the busy street as going and coming from my first grade school. Then, my pacing could not beat hers, and my hand reaches hers because I was still small then.

Now my mom's height has shrunk, and I am taller than her. Her body has gained weight, and her slenderness is gone. Her back has curved.  Her hair has greyed. Her agility has weakened. She doesn't walk that fast anymore. My mom is old now, and I am aging too. We all are.

Everyone will get old, but while we are still young, while we hold the time and energy and while we have the resources, we ought to give the best things for our elderly love ones. For when they are no longer with us, those are the memories that we will keep dearly in our hearts until our own breath is taken by our limited time in this world. 

Trees and my childhood memories

Last night, the thoughts run in my mind, way past bedtime as strong wind blows from the window, when I could hear the leaves from the branches swish as they hit our roof. I thought they needed some trimming soon. Then, the memories of the trees of my childhood appeared liked screen shots in my head.

I was born in Manila and grew up in its concrete jungle. When I learned to walk, I'd stumble on cemented floors and hit my head on concrete walls. A little more years, nobody would know that I would get on the roof of our two storey-high house in Pasay, to pick some Santol from our rich neighbor's backyard. Up there I would wonder how the unreachable giant guavas taste, from the backyard of our other neighbor.  Sometimes, I would stand on a friend's shoulders to reach for some Ilang-ilang that fills the street with the scent of its blooms.

In the school where I spent kindergarten until second grade, there too were trees, bananas, coconut, narra and acacia, surrounding the swamp that was turned into fish pen. One big sampaloc tree also stands in nearby compound where I would play with friends in its vast lawn. In Sta. Ana, where my dad had put his car service shop, he would find often on top of the Aratiles tree, if I am not throwing my slipper to make a star apple drop to the ground at his friend's backyard.

Then we moved to Sta. Ana Manila. My family had lived there before we moved to Pasay, but we have to moved again to the new lot my father found for his car service shop prior to his passing away. There were six trees in there as I can recall, one sampaloc tree stands boastfully at a corner, a pico mango tree gives shade to my dad's working area, three guava trees on separate locations, and one achuete tree near the gate.

That was thirty years ago. All those trees I mentioned are not here in our place anymore. The sampaloc tree was cut down because my cousin extended their house. The mango tree was uprooted by one super typhoon. One of the guava tree withered because of the salty water coming from our pozzo. The tallest guava tree was cut down little by little until it died, because my uncle complained that its leaves are hitting their roof. The youngest guava tree died too when my uncle placed rocks on its roots to put a walkway. The achuete tree died because its always hit by the vehicles coming and going from the garage.

Though I am city boy, I had the chance of being able to climb up on trees, be it in our backyard, our neighborhood or in the province. Where my mom came from, I learned about the variety of trees that my grandfather planted around our ancestral house. Every time I would travel to Ilocos, my eyes will wander on the sight of the mountains with tall trees, as I try to identify what trees were those. Just the same, I was able to climb the trees and pick their fruits in my father's ancestral house in Bicol. My grandmother had kept there until her death several species of fruitbearing trees: kasoy, avocado, guyabano, balimbing, bugnay, langka, rimas, papapaya, caimito, suha, and a variety of plants.

Trees never really vanished in our backyard. At the time I knew the older trees were trying to bid goodbyes, I would pull up some shoots by the road and transplant them in our backyard. My mom claims, she planted the four fruit bearing trees we have left. I too claim I planted them. We'll I would not argue with my mom, if that pleases her.

We have two mango trees, the one in front our house was planted some 20 years ago. The other one I planted where I put a compost pit, this younger mango tree grew faster and bigger than the first one. The younger one is Hawaiaan, and the older is Indian. I planted a duhat tree also, it replaced the guava tree near where we placed the pozzo. It is huge and eating up the sunlight that prevents the older mango tree from growing bigger. At one corner, I also planted a santol tree from the variety of Bangkok santol. This used to bear a lot of fruits, until my uncle built a clinic for my cousin which kept it from growing.

When these trees are in bloom, everyone in the family would gaze at them. When the mangoes are in bloom, our compound will be filled the scents coming from their flower buds. When the younger mango bears fruit, it could fill several baskets. When the duhat bears fruits, they will just drop and turn the ground black and red. Sadly, the santol has lesser and smaller fruits now.

I would not want anyone cut them. At one time, when the duhat tree was uprooted by a typhoon and so is the older mango tree, we made them stand again. It took years for them grow, and we all benefit from their shades, their fruits and their ways of filtering the air. Even in the heat of the summer, we find comfort under these trees. Unfortunately, even though we still have a big space for some more trees, no one else among my younger broods have the attitude and interest to plant one. Rarely would I find my nephews attempt to climb the trees, but they would enjoy the fruits when someone else picks for them.

In my younger years, I'd pick seedlings and transplant them, or intentionally throw seeds in rich grounds, hoping that later on they will grow into sturdy trees. Others say I have a green thumb. I'd joked, I have a green mind, and my heart just can't take ignoring that we need to take part in keeping a green environment. Had I not have the trees with me in my childhood, I would not pay interest in planting one. Now, in our compound there are eight families, sharing the benefit of four trees I planted in my childhood.

Back then, when I would travel and see the barren mountains, I'd wish that I were rich. If I were rich, I'd ride a helicopter and bring seeds with me, and throw them from the sky, thinking that they will find their way to grow and make the mountains green again. Those were the days, when flooding and the threat of climate change were never existent in my young mind. My hope now is that trees won't just be an image in this generation's childhood memories.