Sunday, April 7, 2013

Sharp blades, Indio fight scene and a summer noon encounter


In between watching some guy pick Adam Levine as his coach in The Voice and playing with her new puppies, my wife hollered “Mahal, hasa!” as I was tapping away at the laptop.  I have been waiting for the ambulant maghahasa for the past week to sharpen my bolos which have seen some brisk action with my bamboo projects over the past few days.

It was almost noon in a cloudless summer day and the sun was bearing down on any animal, plant and man caught outside of a shade.  I called on him to come inside our gate as I showed him my three dull blades.

I asked him if I could get him a glass of water as he began to work on my first bolo.  In what sounded like a reply and cough emerging as one, he gruffly said/coughed “Wrr-rrr-inom-hrrhhh-sa-isang-bahay.”

The offer, though turned down, was sincere but it did not dampen my interest in knowing more about the man.  You see, anyone whose line of work is not shared by more than 99% of people I know is interesting to me.  So I attempted more small talk, “Nakakailan ho kayo sa isang araw?”

“Hwrrr-paiba-iba-hwrrr-din.”

I could tell that he was not much of a talker, or maybe he was simply making sure that it was the blade and not his fingers that he grinded against the emery wheel.  Either way, he was the one holding the blade and I have seen enough of a scene in Indio about men with issues with a blade in their hand to convince me to hold back my curiosity.

At a Holy Tuesday (or was that a Wednesday) airing of Indio, the character played by Bong Revilla was being trained in swordplay by the warrior protagonist portrayed by Aljur Abrenica.  In what would come down in Philippine cinematic history as one of the most inane combat training sessions ever staged by man, woman or animal, Bong and Aljur deftly sliced one hapless banana trunk after another with their sharp blades; making it appear that only men with superior courage and strength can do such feat – as lesser men and women portrayed by lesser actors and actresses clapped their hands as they ogled the limp banana studs strewn about.  Surely, they could imagine the bad guys acted by mestizo-looking (or bleached) actors going the same route as the bananas should they encounter the mean blades of the heroes.

I don’t follow Indio so I didn’t really know what’s going on in the story.  Thankfully, Bong’s character who looked worried, confused and lost all throughout ably kept me at speed.  Apparently, there was an impending revolution which he was being groomed to lead.  Credit Bong’s extensive experience at the Senate for his convincing portrayal of the lost, confused and spaced-out soul.  Bravo! Woot…woot!!!

So as I ponder the fate of the banana trunks, little did I know that Mr. Hasa was on his third blade – my favorite, which was a jungle bolo of some sort, with cool jagged teeth that did nothing but ruin the bite of my blade on wood, leaving unsightly marks that cried for additional whacks to finish the job.  It was cool but ultimately inefficient as far as cutting goes.  So I told the man to ground out the useless teeth, which seemed to please him as I recall that he volunteered to do the same the first time he encountered that blade some months back.

I wanted to ask him more questions. Kapag may away, ano ang gusto nyong sandata na hinasa nyo… gulok, kutsilyo o nipper?  Pabor ba kayo sa pag-awit sa videoke ng makailang ulit nang Pusong Bato?  Ano  po ang mas malakas ang kita niyo, kapag tag-ulan kung kailan mapurol ang mga pantabas o kung tag-araw kung kalian mas marami ang gustong magpagupit ng buhok?  I held my tongue.  Afterall, he now had three sharp blades beside him.

I gave him a glass of cold water before I handed him the 100 bill which accounted for our transaction.  He took both with a smile, and he was off, in the heat of the day.

I find some part of me in the man; we both believe that sometimes you have to shut up, focus and get your hands moving to get things done.



Monday, March 18, 2013

Teaching nationalism to students who want whiter skin


A REACTION PAPER ON THE ISSUE



CITIZENSHIP EDUCATION IN THE PHILIPPINES: LESSONS, PROSPECTS AND POSSIBILITIES
Presented by Sherry Marasigan




AS PART OF THE SEMINAR
THE HUMAN DIMENSION IN PHILIPPINE EDUCATION:
Theories, Policies and Practices




Written by
Marcial I. Enginco


Submitted to
Michael Muega, PhD
Professor, EDFD 201
University of the Philippines Diliman, College of Education

  




What is a Filipino and can it be taught inside the classroom? This is a basic but very important question that sums up Sherry Marasigan’s quandary as a Social Studies teacher mandated to teach citizenship to young students.

In her brief but thought-provoking talk Marasigan, an instructor at Colegio San Juan de Letran and a PhD student of Education, pointed out alarming but very familiar behavior among many students that would belie their attitudes towards being a Filipino, among which include the students’ apparent disconnect while observing nationalistic activities such as flag-raising ceremony, apathy towards and sometimes ignorance of pressing national issues, and the overwhelming drive to get out of the country to pursue greener pastures after they graduate from college.

Due to time limitations Marasigan was not able to expound on the gravity of the issue nor did she offer concrete solutions or at least show a road map to guide educators on how to infuse and ingrain a sense of national pride amongst the youth inside the classroom.  However, whatever was shared during her brief tenure at the podium was enough to spur me into rumination.   The more I ponder over this prevailing situation the more I realize that that challenge to teach citizenship is enormous and growing more herculean, even quixotic, with the passing of time.

Consider these.

The Philippines, a nation of close to a 100 million people, does not own a unifying language.  Tagalog, or the politically-safe term Filipino, is perhaps the closest to a mother-tongue that the Philippines has and it is so because, for the longest time, the National Capital Region – in conjunction with surrounding Tagalog-speaking provinces --  has been the country’s seat of power and economic activity.  But based on the number of native speakers Tagalog is not even the language of the majority but merely of the plurality, with significant numbers of Filipinos counting on Ilocano, Ilonggo, Cebuano and numerous other regional dialects as their native tongue.  Thus the country’s fractured language base is in itself a barrier to attaining a firm sense of national identity.   It does not help the nationalist perspective either that English, a foreign language, is institutionalized in the educational system, government, the business sector and even in cyberspace as the preferred language for communication, in line with the rest of the world.

As the country inches forward to a rapidly homogenizing world where ideas, culture and technology are as freely exchanged as market commodities, the issue of teaching citizenship further hits a barrier that is very difficult to overcome.  A cursory inventory at what many youths value today – iPhone, Korean boy bands, imported clothings and articles, and whitening soaps, lotions and cream – will give educators a sense that the Filipino youth, at least extrinsically, is more comfortable being a global citizen than as a local, patronizing local products, choosing to look local. 

Can this trend be reversed?  I am hopeful but I have my doubts.

So what is a Filipino?  Physically, we don’t have an accurate model of what majority of Filipinos should look like.  We are tall as we are short, light-skinned as we are dark, round-eyed as we are slit-eyed --there’s just no distinct Filipino look.  However, when I ask my college students what they believe are traits that best describe the Filipino, being hospitable is always by  far the top answer, followed by being friendly and being a happy people.

But being all those, especially being hospitable, did not come by accident.  A keen analysis of the lessons of history will show that we, as a people, did not choose to act and behave in such agreeable terms but were constrained to do so.  We are a hospitable people because over a span of more than 4 centuries colonizers, one after the other, called our country theirs, and took whatever they liked and desired inside our homes and farms as if they were extension of theirs.   We couldn’t call our country ours, let alone our homes.   And we were trained to smile because if we didn't and instead showed displeasure over such stark inequality then the oppressive guests may then just decide to take the last thing that our countrymen held precious  – their lives.

This is, in principle, the foundation of a giving, hospitable culture.  A typical Filipino host telling the grateful guest, “Consider what we have in our home yours, as well” is an accurate description of the mindset that has been wired deeply into our psyche. 

We have grown comfortable being with other people, be they from a neighboring barangay or from a far-off nation.  It is no wonder then that Filipinos are touted all over the world as great adapters, with chameleon-like skills in seamlessly blending with the crowd in just about every nation they are in, under any condition.  This ability is, I believe, also a natural by-product of being exposed to all kinds of foreign body in our own country.

So can Citizenship and its ideals be taught inside Philippine schools?  I am hopeful but I have my doubts.  If we can identify our National Identity beyond what our national anthem or national flower is, we can.  If we can define what a generic Filipino is, we will.  If we have convinced Filipinos that their future lies here in local shores, and that the proverbial greener pasture can be realized locally using their talents, intelligence and daring, then we have. 

Monday, February 18, 2013

Hall of Shame's Worst All Star Performance Ever


This is one All Star appearance that Chris Bosh wouldn’t soon forget.  It’s not because his East team lost, it was not the first and certainly not the last, but because he set (I believe it is) a record for most airballs in an All Star Game: 3, all in the first half.

Now let’s dissect the magnitude of this number.  Bosh shot 9 and made 3; of the six he missed, half did not even make it to the ring.  Two of these were jump shots, the other a running floater inside the painted area – all not under duress.

That does not happen often.  Not in the practice court where professionals like him shoot hundreds every day, not in an NBA court where most air balls happen because they are either last second shots from the half court or haplessly heaved into the ring by inept free throwers like Javale McGee and Blake Griffin, and not in an All Star Game where the NBA’s best is supposed to be on show.

Chris Bosh?  It is not supposed to happen.

I feel sorry for Bosh who owns the second most menacing scowl in the sporting world, next only to MMA’s Cheick Kongo.  But that is just my opinion.  See image below for comparison.



And as if the short arms were not enough Chris Paul, the West’s shifty and wily point guard who eventually emerged as the game’s MVP, had to embarrass Bosh some more by dribbling the ball between the big man’s legs before picking up the dribble from behind Bosh’s back.

Ouch.  That was cruel.

You know that Bosh’s confidence was shot that when he was again caught in an isolation play with another shifty point guard in the person of Frenchman Tony Parker, he did what any big-man-who-shot-three-airballs-then-cuckolded-by-a-guard-in-an-All Star-game would do: grab Parker in mid-dribble so he does not pull another Chris Paul against him -- this in a game where a dunk is regularly not contested or fouled.

I feel you Chris.

Chris Bosh does not deserve to be treated that way.  He, after all, voluntarily gave up his top dog status at Toronto to become the sidekick of the sidekick at Miami.   And in case you don’t know, Mr Bosh is in touch with his feminine side.  This he proved when he, according to reports, unabashedly cried, bawled, when his team lost the championship to the Dallas Mavericks in 2011.

So come on guys, cut him some slack.

Just when you thought that Bosh was gaining some sort of self respect by accomplishing a routine two-handed slam trust Kobe Bryant, the ultimate competitor and ego annihilator, to put the final touch to Bosh’s most forgettable game ever.  With ball in hand and attack in mind, Bryant danced and shimmied his way to a basket, leaving Bosh with a clear look at his number 24 on his jersey’s back, and a final memory of a game that would almost certainly wake him up in the middle of the night sweating, crying and looking for momma.

Bosh should thank his coach Erik Spoelstra to have the decency to pull him out of the game so that he avoids further embarrassment.  And Bosh should thank Spoelstra’s Filipina mother for teaching his son the Filipino value of not kicking somebody who is already down.  Who knows what psychological harm Bosh could have still suffered in a night where everything, save for three shots that scored, went wrong for him?

I bet Chris "Mister Sensitive" Bosh will mope and dwell on this episode.  I mean, who wouldn't?  I still cringe at the memory of a guard whom I thought was going for a fade away jumper but instead went forward and under me for a simple layup as I was flying towards the opposite direction, high but schooled.  And it was just a regular pickup game.

I wouldn’t be surprised if he gets post traumatic stress disorder and chucks plenty of his gazillion dollar contract to reserve regular time at some shrink’s sofa so he can sort things out.

Spoelstra is hoping that wouldn’t be the case.  But if Bosh shoots his jump shots long every time, you know he is still thinking about the air balls.



Tuesday, February 5, 2013

Auntie Inday, Pray for us



“Just pray.”  These are the two words that I always associate with my Auntie Inday, also called Sister Fe Enginco, RVM. 

Auntie Inday loved to live, and this showed in her girth and the laugh lines that adorned her face.  But Auntie Inday’s health could not keep up with her spirit, limiting her movement the last few years to her room and the safe confines of the Religious of the Virgin Mary convent in San Juan.  Her interaction with the outside world came in the few and far in between visits of relatives and close friends, and the occasional trips outside for family get-togethers where her presence was, despite her failing health, expected.  One such gathering happened last January 27, in Siena College where another aunt Sister Jesusa, serves as Mother General.

Auntie Inday was siting very still when we arrived to fetch her.  But she beamed a contented smile when she saw us.  Along the way, she expressed her regrets that she was not able to visit Nanay during her wake, and that she misses her dearly.

On occasions like this, Auntie Inday loved to mingle and hear stories.  But on this particular day, she spent most of her time seated in one corner; simply looking approvingly, nodding and giving the thumbs up sign when asked if she was doing alright.

At one point, she asked to be brought home already.  But since the family was only halfway through the food and the happenings, we told her to stay a while.

She was delighted to find out that there was a bigger gathering being planned by the family for 2015 but she prays that she would be physically able to be there.  When asked to share her thoughts, she said she was only too happy to be given another chance to be with the family for whom she had dedicated her life when she made her religious vows more than half a century ago.  Though we were not always together, she said that we were always with her in her prayers, and that we should continue praying for one another.

Auntie Inday joined her creator this morning, February 5, 2013.  It was a peaceful and beautiful passing.

She is now with Tatay, her brother, and with Nanay who she’ll no longer miss.

Friday, January 25, 2013

Meet Lies Armstrong, 7-Time ex-Tour De France Champion


It must be hard for anyone to finally accept that the kingdom that he once thought he ruled was a farce, and that he was not really a king in the first place.  Except that Lance Armstrong is not just anyone – he is Lance Armstrong: the cancer survivor, cycling icon, philanthropist and founder of Livestrong Foundation that has raised hundreds of millions of dollars for cancer awareness.

Everything that he did though was built on a foundation of lies.  He was no super human; he was simply a man who cheated with performance enhancing drugs (PED) to look like one. 

They say repeat a lie often and that lie becomes the truth.  Lance Armstrong used PEDs in his first Tour de France win in 1999.  He must not have been convinced by then that he had to do it six more times, from 2000 to 2005 for an unprecedented 7 consecutive wins of the most prestigious and most grueling cycling race in the world where riders have to cover, inside 21 days, some 3,200 kilometers (Manila to Baguio is roughly 200 kms) of road across plains, valleys, hills and torturous climbs and perilous ascents over the mountains of Alps and the Pyrenees.

By the time Lance Armstrong hoisted his 7th and last Tour de France trophy in 2005, he had become a legend.

Unfortunately, he believed in his own legend, in his kingdom, and in his invincibility.  The lie has now become his truth.  And he defended it with such ferocity that when one by one, people who have once worked with him, rode with him, and even loved him began telling the truth – that he was a cheat – he raised all legal, real or imagined (mostly imagined)issues to bully them into silence.  Some authorities who may have unearthed irregularities suddenly became silent after suspicious donations from Armstrong’s camp came in.  He called everyone a liar except himself.

But no lie that big can be forever denied.  Armstrong would if he could.  But when all investigations have led to his dirty doorstep, there was no choice but to admit he fucked up.  When all of his Tour De France wins were rescinded, he knew he had nothing left but his pride, which was still considerably high.

Again, trust Armstrong  to be ahhmmm, strong.  In his interview with Oprah, Armstrong admitted using dope but made it sound that he was okay with it and bewildered that the world was not.  He even made cheating sound so noble by claiming that he only did it to level the playing field – implying that everyone else was into it.

He did repeatedly say that he was sorry.  But his steely blue eyes and cold demeanor tell me he is once again lying.  Armstrong may be a great liar just like Gloria, but just like Gloria, he is a poor actor when it comes to telling the truth.

So what happens now?  Tour de France has become a tour de farce, and world class cyclists are now, fairly or unfairly, under the mantle of suspicion as being world class dopists.  I suspect that Lance Armstrong will bounce back, just like he did against cancer.  But whether he is ever going to be humbled?  I doubt.  His kingdom may have crumbled but the man who created the lies has not. 

Growing up too soon, too fast


The Hurried Child Syndrome



An Expository Essay






Written by
Marcial I. Enginco


Submitted to
Grace Koo, PhD
Professor, EDFD 210
Human Development and Learning


University of the Philippines Diliman
College of Education



PROLOGUE

Decades ago, a child barely 5 years old was left to fend for himself for the entire day.  This happened five days a week, and lasted for several months.  When he would wake up in the morning, everyone in their small 3 bedroom house will be already gone.  His father, a soldier would have already reported for duty; his mother, a school teacher would already be at school where she taught and his five elder brothers studied.  He was left at home because he was not yet in school age, and alone because there was no money for househelp who could look after him.

His parents left him ready food for lunch.  And when there was none, he had been taught to cook rice and to use the stove to fry egg, fish or whatever was in the refrigerator.  He entertained himself by drawing human faces and figures in various states of emotion and motion, airplanes with tank rails exchanging bombs and gunfire with large battleships with wings, and animals and insects that found their way on paper and climbed over to the wood panels that comprised their humble home’s walls.   And when the creative drive waned, his active and curious side kicked in – running and jumping to see how fast and high he could go.  He would look for spiders, climb trees, and watch and catch small colorful fish in the canal, depositing them in bowls, believing that someday they will grow into fish that can be served on the table.  He did what he wanted and was not afraid to discover new things.  He was free.  Many individuals wait for a lifetime to find that elusive sense of independence; he simply opened his eyes one morning.

He sensed nothing unusual about this, nor did he think that there was another way to spend childhood.  After all, it was his first time to be a boy.


_____


I thought that The Hurried Child Syndrome referred to anyone who grew up, or became an adult, too soon, which is how I would characterize my childhood development.  But a cursory Google search (Farlex) reveals this definition of Hurried Child Syndrome:  “A condition in which parents over-schedule their children's lives, push them hard for academic success, and expect them to behave and react as miniature adults.”  My parents did not over-schedule my life nor pushed me to succeed, as the definition suggests; they simply left me alone to be, in some respects, an adult in a child’s body.

David Elkind, a professional child psychologist formulated the Hurried Child concept as he, in the late 1960s and ‘70s, observed that children of that era were alarmingly being exposed to (Elkind, 1981) instructional and educational approaches that were beyond the developing minds’ grasp; popular media that glamorized and regularized sex, drugs and violence; shifts in social norms where divorce and subsequent and sometimes casual entry of either parent into a new relationship became more common, if not expected, and; the emergence of homosexuality as a third, but increasingly vocal and influential gender.  This confluence of factors became the basis for Elkind’s claim in his 1981 book The Hurried Child: Growing  Up Too Fast Too Soon, that children are forced to take on the physical, psychological and social trappings of adulthood before they are prepared to deal with them.

Elkind observed that this phenomenon was more pronounced in middle class families where parents felt more pressure to prepare their children to become competitive, if not winning adults in an increasingly dog-eats-dog world.  Parents with this inclination placed more premium on the child’s early education and training, further tipping this with an excessive inclusion of enrichment programs and extracurricular activities that practically left the child with no time for play and relaxation.

This forced schedule and driven existence, Elkind claimed, unfairly and unnecessarily exposed the child to the undue stress of attaining success and delivering results, and to its opposite pole – falling short of expectations, and the accompanying stress of handling failure like an adult.  Elkind concluded that a large portion of troubled children who saw clinicians to report experiencing school failure, involvement in delinquency and drugs, and those who are committing suicide are hurried children.  Further, many such children exhibited psychosomatic complaints such as headaches and stomachaches, and generally showed signs of being chronically unhappy, hyperactive, or lethargic and unmotivated.  These were stress symptoms that were normally only found in adults.

So what triggered parents and society in general to rush children into adulthood?  The answer, according to Elkind, is a complex series of events that was instigated by the Russian launching of the Sputnik, the first man-made satellite, into outer space.  Only over a decade removed from the Second World War, the two superpowers were in a heated duel to outdo each other in every front possible, and conquering deep space was the ultimate race.  The world knew that the event meant more than just who did it first; but what it really exposed was the gap between communist Russia’s quality of education and technology and that of the leader of the free world, America.  America’s embarrassment led policy-makers to overhaul its educational system to concentrate on a curriculum that unfortunately over-estimated children’s capacity to learn and absorb complex educational concepts and materials.  They believed that any subject can be taught effectively in some intellectually honest form to any child at any age of development.

This period of American self-examination was exacerbated by the fury of civil rights movements who deplored the poor performance by disadvantaged children in school; placing the blame on the educational system’s failure to prepare poor children for the rigors of learning.  In response, the government instigated sweeping reforms in the educational system; beginning with the opening of public schools to both black and white, rich and poor students. 

Looking back, it was a bruised national ego rubbed worse by burning social issues that brought about such a radical change in American education.


But that was a generation ago, and the pace by which children those days spent their youths would seem like a walk in the park by today’s standards where cramming activities in a child’s timetable seems to be the norm, rather than the exception in highly developed nations, and increasingly so in countries wishing to be more competitive such as the Philippines where the Department of Education recently added two more years to its basic education program, what it now calls K + 12.  Curiously, the first feature of the revised program (Department of Education, 2012) is to strengthen early childhood education, which is kindergarten.  Add to this one to two years of pre-schooling, and the summer lessons, tutorials, additional enhancement programs that parents regularly enroll their children to and we have a condition very similar to what was being described by Elkind.
.
Kenneth Ginsburg, a medical doctor and prominent child psychologist offers several key factors (Ginsburg, 2007) why parents resort to overloading their children’s schedule; most of these, if one would analyze,  point to the adaptive mechanisms employed by parents to current changes in the work environment, technology and the society, altogether.  Some of the reasons why parents overschedule their children’s work and study load include:

The prevalence of homes with either a single parent or two working parents and the lack or absence of an extended family of adults (grandparents, uncles, aunts, etc.) to watch over children, is a major reason why modern parents resort to organized after-school activities and academic-enrichment opportunities that are supervised by adults. 

Parents who have attained professional success believe that facilitating future opportunities for their children is the most effective use of their limited time with their children. Parents who employ this tactic measure their parenting style like they would their professional life – in terms of efficiency and productivity.   In what is sometimes referred to as the professionalization of parenthood, some parents believe that the more accomplishments done in the shortest allotted time is the equivalent of excellent parenting.

Media also plays a major role in defining how parents should go about their business of raising children.  Parenting magazines and TV shows bombard parents with messages about how they should, at the earliest opportunity, actively build every skill and aptitude that their children may use in the future; anything less would be, well, bad parenting.

But what is alarming (Ginsburg, 2007) about such parenting behavior is that it robs children of that magical gift that comes only with that particular lifespan: Play.  Ginsburg contends that taking away play from a child’s normal activity also takes away the chance for the child to use and explore his creativity and imagination, and learn and hone physical dexterity, cognitive ability and emotional strength.   He asserts that play-acquired competencies enhance the child’s confidence and resiliency.

However, there is more to this issue than meets the eye.  If it’s true that parents knowingly compromise their child’s play time to give way to the more serious pursuits of adulthood then they, along with authorities and institutions that allow and even support such practice, are liable to being charged with violation of a basic human right of a child – the right to play.  The United Nations Declaration of the Right of the Child (The United Nations, 2010) states that:  The child shall have full opportunity  (underline, mine) for play and recreation, which should be directed to the same purposes as education; society and the public authorities shall endeavour to promote the enjoyment of this right.

But to be realistic, I don’t see any group or institution raising legal charges against parents or schools, or lobbying congress to adopt a bill that protects this right and penalizes those who will violate it.

There are certain quarters however that believe that the Hurried Child Syndrome is not true (Hurried children a myth, Busy children thrive, says researcher, 2008); in fact, the proponents of one study claim the contrary.  Among the more interesting findings (S. Hofferth, 2008) of the study entitled The Hurried Child: Myth or Reality by Sandra Hofferth and company, include: that high level of structured activities does not appear to be emotionally stressful for children; highly active children don’t differ from children with a more balanced set of activities, and; children who are most at risk of being depressed, anxious, alienated and fearful are those with no activities.

The findings of this study strongly debunk Elkind’s assertions that overworked young children are stressed and unhappy.  Either way, I believe that it is the human organisms’ collective adaptive behavior that pushes it to equip young children with the necessary tools and advantages to survive and thrive in the ever shifting world that we live in today; avoiding doing so, to me, would be counter intuitive.

The condition under which Hurried Child Syndrome occurs, or does not occur, is to me simply a product of parenting style – one that is not forced but rather freely assimilated by adults.  Hence, I see no moral or ethical issue against parents who believe that their children should possess all the tools that they could learn and handle.

So do I believe that parents can hurry their child and do so negatively? Certainly.  I see it everyday.  I see adults using children to earn a living in the streets selling, stealing and begging.  I once made a UN-sponsored documentary about child labor and I have seen young bodies subjected to work that even adults would find difficult to do day in and day out.  I open the internet and I come across news about mothers coercing their daughters to join child beauty contests  (Time, 2012) where they are required to wear makeup, bathing suits and adult gowns; another mother (Yahoo News, 2013) waxed her 3-year old daughter’s thick brows, or unibrow as she called it, because it was, to her, unsightly, and; another constantly brings her young daughter to the tanning salon because her skin lacked glow.

Just the other day, I watched a video being circulated in Facebook showing a group of 7 to 8 young boys and girls, aged 3 to 12 (just my estimate based on how they looked) having a vodka drinking session.   What’s so despicable about this is that while the shot glass was being passed around, the children’s parents and guardians were happily cheering as the kids squirmed at the taste of the alcohol that even I, an adult, find too potent for my liking.  This is what I find alarming more than children being stressed by too many activities that are designed to make them capable and productive citizens in the long run.  When adults place children in situations that traditionally are only intended for adults, or when adults show children how shallow and irresponsible adults can be, it sets a bad precedent that I hope will not be followed and emulated by impressionable children.

This, for me, is the other context of Hurried Child syndrome that is worthier looking into.

_____


EPILOGUE

Young children are incredibly resilient creatures.  In their own little way they can adapt adult concepts and make it appear as if they know what they are doing or comprehend what they are saying, when in fact they are simply mimicking adult roles as part of their child’s play or logic.

Decades ago, I told my parents that it would be best that they brought me to Pangasinan, my mother’s hometown where her brothers and sisters still lived, instead of leaving me alone and unattended in our home inside a military base in Batangas.  It was an innocent request, one I suppose I made because I particularly liked frolicking in the clear stream near my mother’s house.  The next thing I knew I was bundled for Pangasinan the following weekend where I would stay until I was old enough to go to school.  When that episode of my life was being recalled by my mother to anyone who cared to listen, she would always say that I talked and behaved like an adult for me to think of something like that.  Until now I have serious doubts if that were so.  But now I realize it was something that my parents were painfully contemplating doing back then, but they simply couldn’t bring themselves to, until I said so.

When I returned to Lipa, my father’s once occasional drinking had become a nightly habit.  And as the youngest child I slept together with my parents and became witness to their almost nightly fights.  By then, I began to feel that I had the responsibility to become my mother’s defender and my father’s calming presence.  But I was still a child.

When I went to school, I tagged along with my mother especially during lunch time where I ate with her and her co-teachers inside the faculty room.  I became privy to conversations of adults about marital problems, work problems, financial problems and other problems that I have not experienced nor heard of before.  But I was still a child.  And I was one when I was with people my age.  But after a while, I began to look at the world with different eyes.  In many respects, I became an adult in a child’s body sooner than I wanted to.



Wednesday, January 16, 2013

From Michelangelo to furniture, Museum to aroma


Good things come to those who wait.  But better ones come to those willing to scrape the bottom of the box.  I recently came across two books by accident, and they couldn’t come at a better time.

There’s been a Pick a Book stall inside Benitez Hall ever since the second semester started.  It contains a selection of interesting reading materials -- all pre-owned, ranging from novels by authors like Ayn Rand, John Grisham, Alfred Hitchcock and an assortment of others that I either know, barely know, or never heard of (I admit I’m not a big fan of novels, hence my ignorance), art books, crafts books, personal growth books, outdated techie books, illustrated children’s books, poetry books, and magazines such as National Geographic, Popular Mechanics, and Architect’s Digest, etc.  In short, a little bit of everything.

I was thrilled to spy a rack that was marked P20 so I promptly and happily ran my fingers across the titles.  Take away my bus fare going home and a little snack money; I still had some 200 pesos or so of free money.  So I had literally in my hands, or more accurately – in my pocket – 10 books waiting to be bagged.

As I was rummaging through the covers I realized that 10 books were too many to place inside my bag that was already almost stuffed with reading materials, notebooks, folders, my hoodie, water canister, candy wrappers, and a wad of old bus tickets.  There was only room for two, and I was eyeing The Life and Works of Michelangelo and The New York Metropolitan Museum – two hardbound books that would surely be very difficult to find elsewhere and would make me look like an art aficionado.

When I was about to pay for the books, the vendor said that each costed P150.  I’m never good at Math but my mind readily computed that I was way short of the prospective bill.   I calmly returned the books, muttering that I’d be getting them next time.  I won’t.  I had no plans of doing such.

This failed purchase speaks three things about my buying behavior: 1) My impulse buying budget rarely exceeds P100.  2) The amount of money inside my pocket ensures that number 1 stays true most of the time.  3) When I’m intent on splurging P40 then I would, regardless if I’ve been flustered by the darn P150 price tag on Mike’s book, or not.

So I knew I had to recover my pride and show that vendor that I was ready as hell to plunk down P40 on two good, old books.  Mustering all the pride that I could, I meekly asked him where the P20 books were and he pointed me at a sizeable carton box that was conveniently lying on the floor.

Darn.  I was standing when I found Mike.  Now I had to bend my knees to search for God-knows-what.

But like I told you I am a proud man; so I stooped down to the level of the box.  I tried to look like I was enjoying myself as I leafed through titles like The Breakthrough Wonders of Pentium II, Overcoming Impotence, and The Life Cycle of a Snail.

Then I really got excited. 

I found two books that I was willing to pay P150 each. Okay, more like two at P150, if I could haggle it.  I was sure that others would scuffle with me if I showed them that I discovered The Complete Book of Essential Oils & Aromatherapy (published in 1991) and The Build-It-Yourself Furniture Catalog (from 1976), so I discreetly covered the titles with my large hands and whispered to the vendor, “Sir, kukunin ko mga ‘to.”  I proudly handed him a soggy P100 bill, not folded by the way, to assure him that I have the money to cover the purchase, plus three more books if I wanted more.

I did not place the books in my bag as I had planned.  Instead I hand carried them towards a tree facing the Sunken Garden where I initially intended to read my notes on Emerging Adults.  There I opened the furniture book with trembling hands as if I was a recovering alcoholic secretly opening a bottle of Emperador brandy under a tree facing the Sunken Garden.  My eyes were alert, always glancing behind my back.  I was half expecting envious people, who have learned that I found the two most exciting books in the world, to make a violent grab at my loot.

But the more I scanned the pages, the more I was lost in my own world, already imagining the fine wood work that I would be producing with my very own hands.  Some of the pages, I noticed, were literally earmarked by the previous owner.  And as I lovingly straightened out the page corners, I realized that I was touching the hands of a man who loved this book once, and who created wonderful pieces that gave him the same tremendous fulfillment that I will also soon be feeling when I have made mine.

By far, this is the best P40 I have ever spent.




I have always been proud of what I can do with my hands.  I find carpentry very interesting and it has been my goal for some time to make my own furniture pieces.  Before finding the book, I have been honing my carpentry skills making homes for my honeybees, and simple fixtures such as tables and benches.  With the help of this book, I am planning to make my own center table, cabinet and book shelves.

The Aromatherapy book will greatly help me in my experiments with my handmade soap projects.  I’m also planning to create my own body lotion, body wash and other honey-enriched cosmetic recipes.  As I continually skim the book, I am realizing that it will also enhance and even deepen my commitment to healthy living.