Michael’s Smile

smile

Photo by Kenny Louie

While I’m on this theme of remembering my students. I do remember a guy named Michael. He would just sit quietly in one corner of the room. In fact, he was the most quiet student I’ve ever had. And I rarely saw him hanging out with anybody except this one friend and they didn’t seem to talk much either.

I think that was the year when I started letting my students write journals. They could basically write anything in their journals. I was surprised when Michael’s came in because they were very verbose and expressive. He talked about himself, how he was extremely shy and how he came to be that way.

I would then use his journal and write back to him, encouraging him. During class, I would coax him to talk and speak up (it was speech class, after all). And I could see him try but his voice was always so soft that nobody could really hear him very well. But I liked it that he tried.

I remember him writing in his journal at the end of the year, thanking me for trying to help him, thanking me for my effort. I gave him a book – I think it was “A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court” as my graduation present to him. And I can still remember his shy smile and the slight sparkle in his eye as he thanked me for the gift. Unknown to him, he had also given me a gift — the opportunity of reaching out to him and loving him.

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Erik’s Triumph

trophyOne of my most cherished memories of teaching was when I coached a student of mine named Erik Chua to compete in a citywide oratorical contest. Erik was unassuming in class. He was neither at the top nor at the bottom. He was neither very participative nor very quiet. When I asked students to audition for the contest, I didn’t expect Erik to volunteer.

But when he delivered the audition piece, I sensed something in him, a raw, untapped power. So I chose him over all the others. I wrote a speech for him to memorize and internalize and so began the training process.

We spent many hours after classes rehearsing his lines, perfecting his gestures and the tone of his voice, and making his facial expressions really come out. The sun would be gone when we were done and both of us would be exhausted. We would repeat certain sections over and over until he got it right, until his emotions were synchronized with mine, until the speech was no longer mine, but his as well.

At the end of our training session, I could start with a sentence anywhere in the speech, and he could immediately take over and deliver the next lines flawlessly.

We went into the contest where he would compete with around 10 other contestants from different schools. The venue was in the Central Bank Convention Hall of Davao and it was packed with a bedlam of students from all over the city, each cheering for their own school.

When it was Erik’s turn, he stood and delivered his speech. And when he did it, it was far better than any of our practice sessions, and I was very proud of him. For me, that was the ultimate victory, not really to win, but to see him deliver it as he had never delivered it before. Winning was just icing on the cake. His victory over himself was enough.

But we did get the icing on that contest. Erik was proclaimed the champion and after all these years, I can still remember the wide grin on his face as he embraced the trophy. I still remember the joy. I still remember the triumph.

And I feel so blessed to have been a part of it all.

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When You Came

iphone screen

Photo by Tony Buser

When you came, you were like an iPhone;
sleek, sexy, and full of interesting buttons to push.

Now, you are like a an old rotary-dial phone;
clunky, cranky and old-fashioned.

But, I still enjoy talking to you.

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Drei

Drei and mom

My youngest daughter is Martina Audrey. We also experienced some opposition to “Martina” but not as strongly as with Aidan’s name. Anyway, my wife just likes how it sounds and she chose Audrey so she could nickname her “Drei”, which is patterned after my own name, Andrew. (Nice logic eh?)

Drei is a smart little girl and seems to be able to pick up stuff very quickly. There was a time when she got her brother’s school workbook and did his homework. When he found out about it, he complained because he wanted to do the work himself.

She is also now beginning to read words, just a few months after Aidan picked up the skill. Her teachers in school have told me that sometimes, they forget that she is just 3 years old (turning 4 next month) because she acts, talks and behaves like an older child.

Here’s a conversation I had with Drei a few months back:

Drei: Daddy, I saw baby Moses in school!

Me: Really? Did you see him on TV?

Drei: Yes!

Me: Was he in a basket?

Drei: Yes!

Me: Was he floating down the river?

Drei: No! In the swimming pool.

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Aidan

Aidan and me

My son’s name is Aidan (pronounced as ey-dan). Even before he was born, the first challenge he had was being named Aidan. The name sounded strange to my mom and my siblings and they were afraid it would be reduced to the more Filipino-sounding “Adan” or it might sound like a woman’s name, “Aida”. So they were strongly opposed to the idea of naming him Aidan even though we explained our reasons for doing so.

We got his name from one of our favorite songs called “Let Mercy Lead” by Rich Mullins. My wife had sort of a supernatural encounter while she was pregnant with him. In the silence of her heart, she heard a voice promising her that this baby would be a boy — this would be her Aidan.

So against all odds, the boy came out and he was named Aidan. In fairness to my folks, we have had many experiences of people mispronouncing or misreading his name (so I guess their fears weren’t that unjustified after all). But then again, we just shrug and laugh at all these. I’m used to my surname being mangled after all and my wife is used to her first name being murdered as well.

Aidan is turning 6 this May, and I have no doubts nor regrets of ever giving him that name.

Here are the lyrics of the song from where he got his name (he already knows this song, and even calls it his song):

Aidan, you’re young, and Aidan you’re growing fast.
Me and you’re mom, and all of the love we have,
We can only take you so far, as far as we can,
But you need something more to guide your heart
As you grow into a man.

Ref:
Let mercy lead, let love be the strength in your legs
And in every footprint that you leave there’ll be a drop of grace
If we can reach beyond the wisdom of this age
Into the foolishness of God that foolishness will save those who believe
Although their foolish hearts may break they will find peace
And I’ll meet you in the place where mercy leads.

Aidan, the day, Aidan the day will come,
You’ll run the race that takes us way beyond,
All our trials and all our failures, and all the good we dreamed of,
Well we can’t see yet where it is you’re heading,
But one day you’ll see the face of love.

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Tell Me a Story

Ever since she was around 2 or 3 years old, Faith would ask me to tell her a story before she goes to sleep. At first, I would just pick a storybook from the bookshelf and read it to her (or use it as a guide as I told the stories in my own words). Later on, she learned to read and she did it very well. She went through the entire bookshelf in no time.

So I now had to invent my own stories. Later on, she came up with a couple of characters that represented her and her brother (Drei hadn’t been born then). She was Princess Gold and her brother was Prince Silver. And so began the saga of Princess Gold and Prince Silver (and later, Princess Diamond). I really had to dig into my brain to create original stories or recreate and adapt from stories I already knew.

This Saturday, Faith is turning 9 years old and I realize that I have been inventing stories for her for the past 5 or 6 years. She still enjoys stories of Princess Gold, and I still enjoy telling them, when I can think of an interesting plot. At other times, I would begin telling a story even if I still didn’t know how it would end. I have to think of the story on the fly.

I look at my little girl when she’s fast asleep and realize that she’s not so little anymore. I hope that in the coming years, she will still be interested in my stories, and I hope she will also tell me some of her stories as well.

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Louder than Words

An apprentice preacher approached his superior and said, “Sir, I would like to speak about love this Sunday.”

The superior said, “Have you prepared your sermon?”

The apprentice said, “Yes, sir.”

The superior said, “Have you practiced it?”

The apprentice said, “Yes, sir.”

The superior said, “Are you sure?”

The apprentice said, “Yes, sir.”

The superior said, “Ok. Hold on for a moment.” The superior went out of his office and was gone for around 15 minutes. Finally he came back with a small group of people. He said, “Ok, since you’re prepared with your sermon, please deliver it to these people I grabbed off the street a few minutes ago.”

So the apprentice got up and started to deliver his sermon, and what a fiery sermon it was. Afterwards, the crowd clapped enthusiastically. One of them rose up and approached the apprentice. He looked haggard and his clothes were dirty and torn in some places.

The apprentice quickly walked and met the man halfway through. He shook the man’s hand and hugged him briefly. Then he slipped some money into the man’s hands, and said, “This will help you buy some new clothes.”

The crowd clapped even more enthusiastically after that.

Later, the superior met with the apprentice again, and said, “Your sermon a while ago was delivered smoothly. But you’re not yet ready to talk about love.”

The apprentice said, “What? But why?”

The superior said, “Two things. One, you are still trying to impress others by how generous you are. Two, you immediately gave the man some money even if you did not find out first if that was really what he needed.”

“True love is not just a sermon,” concluded the superior. “When I asked you a while ago if you had already practiced it, I wasn’t asking about practicing the sermon. I was really asking if you had practiced love. Because only through the experience of it can you begin to truly understand it.”

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What is that?

maya bird

Photo by Marton Benitez

March 13, 2010

Father and son sat on opposite ends of a garden bench. Father was staring at the bush. Son was sipping coffee and reading a newspaper.

Father said, “Hey, Gino.”

Gino looked up from his paper and said, “Yes, dad?”

Father pointed to a small bird in the bush. “What is that?”

Gino glanced at the bird, raised an eyebrow towards the old man and said, “Dad, what’s the matter with you? You know what that is. That’s a maya bird.” He went back to reading his paper.

The old man then looked up the mango tree. He had planted that tree himself as a young boy. “Hey, how how about that?” He said as he pointed up. “What is that?”

Gino looked up, then said, “That’s also a maya, dad.”

The old man suddenly turned his head to follow a bird that had just flew in front of him, landing on the ground and hopping around. “What is that?” he said.

Gino made a loud noise with the newspaper as he looked at the bird on the ground and said, “That’s still a maya, dad. What’s wrong with you? What’s with all these questions about that stupid bird? Have you lost your memory or something? Please stop bothering me now, I’m trying to read.”

The old man sighed, then stood up. He walked to the front door of their house and went inside.

On the bench, Gino took a sip of coffee and turned to the sports page.

A few minutes later, the old man came out of the house. He held a worn, red journal in his hand. He sat on the bench again beside his son. Then he opened the journal and turned the pages until he found the one he was looking for. He thrust the journal in front of Gino and asked him to read the page aloud.

Gino read,

“March 13, 1990. My little Gino has just turned 4 and he is such a smart and active boy — always running in the garden and always so full of questions, endless questions. Just today, he saw a bird by the rosebush in the garden and asked me ‘Daddy, what is that?’ And I said, ‘That’s a maya bird, son.’

Another bird flew by and he asked, ‘What’s that?” I smiled again and said, ‘That’s also a maya.’

Seventeen times he asked the same question, and seventeen times, I answered in the same loving voice, ‘That’s a maya, son, that’s a maya.’ And each time I said it, I kissed him on the cheek and thought what a clever boy my Gino is and what a good man he’s going to become.”

Gino couldn’t speak, couldn’t even open his mouth to whisper an apology. Tears fell on the weathered page he had just read. He reached out and hugged his dad. He was still lost for words, but his father understood. He returned the tight embrace that told his son there was no need for words.

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Letting Go

let go

Photo by Melanie Milliken

In our family, I am the one who usually buys the groceries. One of my greatest joys in going to the grocery is bringing my kids along with me. They are almost always excited to tag along and keep me company. When I am with them, the supermarket becomes a field trip and the activity transforms from a routine ticking of the shopping list to an enjoyable time of bonding with the kids.

Tonight, I brought along Faith and Drei with me. Aidan had to stay home because he was sick (but he wasn’t too sad because that meant he could have more time to play on his mom’s laptop — the kid takes after me in terms of computer game addiction).

What was different tonight was that instead of me holding the shopping list and both of them tagging along, I split the list in half and gave the other to Faith. She was now responsible for pushing her own cart and collecting the items in her list. We agreed to meet in the fruit section when she was done.

As I pushed my cart (with Drei riding it) and collected the items in my list, I felt a twinge of fear when I no longer saw Faith. What if something happens to her? What if someone kidnaps her? What if she gets lost? But I stayed those feelings and just trusted that she would find her way around. I reminded myself that she was big enough, old enough (9 years old), and sensible enough.

A little later, we did meet at the fruit section as agreed and she had completed her list (with a few more added items like lollipops and potato chips).

One of the hardest things for me to do as a parent is to let go of my kids – to let them find their own path, their own voice; to let them make mistakes and get lost; to let them get hurt. Yet, inside I know that if I continue to keep shielding them, I am ultimately harming them. There is danger in exposing them to risks, but there is greater danger in not exposing them and not training them to fend for their own when I am no longer around. In the end, I just have to learn to surrender and trust that they have within them the capacity to be independent and survive.

This brings to my mind a short anecdote by Anthony de Mello in his book, One Minute Wisdom:

To a disciple who was always at his prayers the Master said, “When will you stop leaning on God and stand on your own two feet?”

The disciple was astonished. “But you are the one who taught us to look on God as Father!”

“When will you learn that a father isn’t someone you can lean on but someone who rids you of your tendency to lean?”

May I have that heart and that kind of love to rid people of the tendency to lean.

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For the Love of Reading

morpheus sandman

Photo by fimb

I love to read. When I was still very young, my sisters used to read stories to me and I liked it very much when they did. I would always ask them to read to me, even if I’ve heard the same story over and over again. They must have been very relieved when I finally learned to read on my own. But then I would badger them now to tell me the meanings of words that I didn’t understand. Finally, one of my sisters taught me how to use a dictionary and from then on, I wouldn’t bother them as much anymore — it was only when I didn’t understand the dictionary definition that I’d ask questions.

But reading has always been a part of my life and I can easily devour stories like some people devour food. As a tribute to all the wonderful people who created different worlds for me to get lost in, let me share my favorites ever since I was a kid until now:

Elementary days:

  1. Fairy Tales by the Brothers Grimm and Hans Christian Andersen – we had a lot of these at home. I would find out later that what I read were watered-down versions made suitable for kids. The original versions were scarier and catered more for adults.
  2. Hardy Boys / Nancy Drew books – these provided me with endless hours of fun. I borrowed and read ALL the titles in our school library. I would spend many afternoons eating Nissin’s Ramen while reading a Hardy Boys or Nancy Drew book.
  3. Tom Sawyer/Huck Finn by Mark Twain
  4. The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis – I saw a cartoon version of The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe and I was hooked. Imagine my delight at finding out that my sister had the entire book collection.

High School:

  1. Tom Swift Books – I don’t know if these are still around. These are kind of like Hardy Boys but with a more scientific and futuristic bent. I loved the gadgets and inventions here.
  2. Mack Bolan by Don Pendleton, Phoenix Force, Able Team – My classmate Totie got me hooked on these gory soldier stories. I was fascinated by the detailed descriptions of weaponry, and of the damage it did on the human body. This satisfied my lust then for blood and violence.
  3. Literary Fiction – It was in senior year that I got a taste of enjoying literary fiction and poetry. I have my teacher, Mr. Rene Lizada, to thank for that. We are now good friends. Some of my favorite short stories from that time are: May Day Eve by Nick Joaquin, A Rose for Emily by William Faulkner, Long Walk To Forever by Kurt Vonnegut Jr., The Cask of Amontillado by Edgar Allan Poe; for poetry, I enjoyed anything Robert Frost especially The Road Not Taken.

College to present:

  • The Belgariad, Malloreon, Elenium by David Eddings – My first experience in fantasy novels spanning several books. Eddings painted interesting characters with witty dialogues.
  • The Riftwar Saga and Empire Series by Raymond Feist – Still one of my perennial favorites. The Empire series brought out very strong emotions in me.
  • The Dark Elf stories by R.A. Salvatore – The concept and story of Drizzt Do Urden is simply too good to pass up. He is perhaps the character I would most like to be and the image of a white-haired, dark-skinned elf twirling twin scimitars in a death dance excites me.
  • The Foundation Series by Isaac Asimov – I almost put down the first book “Foundation” because it bored me. But I stuck on until I reached the middle part and then I couldn’t stop until I read all the books in the series and even went on to read the other series and stories by Asimov.
  • The Sandman Graphic Novels by Neil Gaiman – I got hooked on Gaiman through his Sandman comics. I would eventually collect the entire series in trade paperback collections. I like anything Gaiman including his novels.
  • The Sword of Truth series by Terry Goodkind – I didn’t think I’d be hooked on fantasy books anymore after having gone through a lot of them but Terry Goodkind drew me in with superb characters and realistic, gritty and thrilling plots.
  • The Alchemist by Paolo Coelho – Actually, anything Coelho is nice and okay with me.

    • So this is a small sampling of the stories that I have loved and enjoyed. Of course, I have excluded many other brilliant and interesting stories that I have encountered else this article would never end. But from the bottom of my heart, I would like to thank these creative souls who have provided me with hours of entertainment, enjoyment and even reflection and contemplation.

    Many, many thanks.

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