The Relationship With My Country

On this blog, I have explored facets of my identity as a woman, as a Filipino, and as an American. In my moments of exploration, I have had ups and downs about my value and worth as a citizen and my responsibility as an educator. I have measured myself and my citizenship with standards of "White" America. Recent events in the past two weeks have made me rethink my identity as a person of color, not as an Asian-American. I have reflected recently about my relationship with Black America. This might sound racist, but it isn't. I see it as breaking up with one boyfriend and moving on with a new one. A new relationship is going to make me see myself differently. I have reread some of my old posts, and they need to updated or qualified, given that I have grown and developed again. I've had some pretty major life changes since my last post in 2014, and my experiences have made me rethink and review my identity, my values, and my loyalty to a country. These past two weeks have been painful, but also eye-opening. Renewal is not easy, but it feels good to start on the road to healing.

What I Meant to Say…

In the past few days, philosophical thoughts have been stewing in my head. The ingredients for such a deadly concoction have come from my master’s program as well as from one inquisitive student who always knew the right thing to ask or say.

One day, in the midst of a writing lesson, he asked, “How do you study for English?”

That is a question that has always been on my mind as I argue with students about the importance of English, the importance of reading, and the importance of understanding one's own identity. This question is always in the back of my mind because I mulled over on how to answer it appropriately. I had all the answers in my head, stockpiled like ammo, but when he put me on the spot that day, I didn’t know which one to tell him. But as a teacher, it wasn’t my job to give him the answers; it’s a student’s job to seek the answer that will best satisfy him. I gave him a response that probably only confused him more, but it totally made perfect sense to me: “You can’t study for English.” And since I said this aloud, I’m sure I confused my other students who twitched at my reply. They were probably thinking, “Then why am I taking English?”

I went home that day feeling unsatisfied. I was unsatisfied because I felt I failed at any attempt to enlighten my student, I failed to grasp a teaching moment and run with it and have a deep discussion, and most of all, I failed at getting my own meaning across. That last part was the epic fail: failure to communicate my ideas. It became the epiphany in my career because I’m finally putting down the words of what I believe. I am an English teacher, but “English” doesn’t even begin to encompass what I really teach.

How do you study for English? What I meant to say was English is beyond grammar and vocabulary. English is more than a composition of parts of speech, syntax, and sentence diagramming. Those are just rules that can be applied. They are the mechanics to help you edit your writing. You can’t memorize every single grammar rule or every vocabulary word, just as you can’t ride a bike by memorizing bike parts. You ride a bike by getting in the seat and falling a few times until you find your balance. Grammar and vocabulary are the same way. They are building blocks to help you with your writing, but if you never write and see the training wheels of my red pen, then you are not building your skills.

How do you study for English? What I meant to say was that we are studying communication skills. We are studying how to read, write, speak, and listen effectively. Just because you talk in English or read in English doesn’t mean you are fluent in English; just as healing yourself when you’re sick doesn’t make you a doctor. To help you practice all the grammar and vocabulary, we are going to practice with the English language because that is what we speak. I’m evaluating you on your effectiveness in your communication skills. It’s not about whether you got the right or wrong answer; it’s about whether or not you clearly organized your thoughts and then conveyed them clearly to me so that I understand you.

How do you study for English? What I meant to say was English is not about loving literature and books. Literature is a just a vehicle for ideas, so English class really focuses on exploring ideas, whether you agree with them or not. Literature—whether it’s nonfiction, novels, poetry, short stories, or plays—gives us something to talk about, and learn about the world, too. With books and poetry, we can sympathize with lovers of the past, we can travel to a tropical island and watch the downfall of humanity; we can read about political strategies of evil masterminds and ponder their morality. Literature is so varied, so we can talk about anything and everything. It makes you think outside of your immediate space. You can hate a book and its characters, but if you want to debate and criticize, then you’re exploring ideas that are not your own. That’s all I ask. If you love a book, it’s not because you love the characters, it’s because you agreed with an idea and you felt justified in your own thoughts. That’s what literature really is: it is a gift of perspective. You will learn of a life outside of your own. It is a gift of empathy, for you will learn how to understand people that you may meet in your real life. Literature is a dress rehearsal for reality. It can strengthen you or break you, just like life.

Dear Student, when you asked me “How do you study for English,” what I meant to say was that there is no way to study LIFE. English falls under the humanities, and humanities means exactly what it means: to study what makes us human. It is the study of music, poetry, arts, politics, philosophies, ethics, language, and cultures. In the nine months that you sit in my “English” class, I cannot give you any advice or instruction on how to understand the depth of humanity, nor do I have the time to teach all of that. To understand humanity, one must embrace and understand how we live. Simply put: we must practice at having and living a life.

I wrote this essay, dear Student, to show you that one moment in the classroom became a learning epiphany for my career. One simple question you raised inspired me to think about my life and my role as a teacher. My reflective thoughts became an essay. My essay became the literary vehicle to express myself. Now I share it with you, dear Student, and I ask you, “Was I effective in conveying my thoughts? Did I answer your question? Do you understand my values and ethics as a teacher? Do you understand where I’m coming from now?”

How do you study for English? What I meant to say was “Let’s explore ideas. Let’s express and communicate our ideas through writing and speaking. We are practicing English, not studying it.”

So don’t study this essay. I’m not going to quiz you, I’m not going to ask if you know what certain vocabulary words mean, I’m not going to ask if you recognize the rhetorical strategies I used (and I did use some), I’m not asking you to memorize this because this piece of literature will be useless to you in college; but I hope the idea will be useful for you in life.

Time

"Time is money." This is an expression we have heard many times in the past. Given that we are a society that is paid by the hour, time is measured by the money we earn. We give our time to the companies and businesses that pay us; but with the economy in such decline, and the complexity of modern life so all-consuming, time is precious commodity that should not be measured by dollar signs.

About a month ago, I resigned from my position as a department head. It was a decision I made based on very personal reasons, and I had to tell myself that this was for my own good. It was difficult, at first, to let go of something that I have gotten used to over two years; there was still this inexplicable longing to continue to fight battles and not give up. I think that was the thing that bothered me most: I felt I gave up. Disappointing myself was the worst feeling.

I openly revealed to very few colleagues about my reasons, and they supported my decision that I step away from the responsibilities I once had. In the past two years, I really felt I had given up my blood and sweat for the good of our school. At one point, I called unwanted attention to the department and almost put my head on the chopping block--all because I believed in something. I have sacrificed nearly every free moment to my work--for my students, for the department, for our school, and even for the district. My own life was on hold--relationships failed, friendships on hiatus, hobbies ignored, stories untold. I kept telling myself that I would balance things out eventually, but it never happened.

Unfortunately, it took personal problems to arise to give me that wake up call. It made me rethink about my priorities. I love my work, but devoting 110% of my time to a school that is facing budget cuts and is not paying me enough to fix their problems, made me realize that time is a precious commodity that cannot ever be regained, nor can it be paid back. After pondering this for a week or so, I am now content that I gave up being a leader; my pride will heal and the disappointment will fade. I have gained so much more in the long run: priceless minutes and hours that I finally can call my own.

Since my resignation from department chairman, I have invested more time in actual teaching and getting to know my students. I have brought less work home because I finish most of it at school. Friendships have reformed and I actually have quality time to spend with people. I have read more books in the past month than in the past two years. Now my mind is flooded with linguistic inspiration, and I do not know which story to start writing again. Maybe I will actually start an exercise routine like I had planned over two years ago. There are so many things I can do now. I feel that my life is back in my hands again, even if only a little.

I was never one to measure my job's worth in dollar signs, so I don't really care much about the money, but I do care about my time. That is worth more than money any day.

E Pluribus Unum

... oh sing your life

all the things that you love

all the things that you loathe

Don't leave it all unsaid

somewhere in the wasteland of your head

and make no mistake, my friend

your pointless life will end

but before you go

can you look at the truth?

You have a lovely singing voice

a lovely singing voice

and all of those

who sing on key

they stole the notion

from you and me

excerpt from "Sing Your Life" by Morrissey

The words are simple, but when I first heard this song , it got to me. It's a song that reminds me how important it is to have an individual stamp on life, and that no one else has the right to tell my story or tell me how to be. It's a song of empowerment.

Widening My Horizons

I got an email from the Department of Defense last month, asking that I update my application if I still wanted to be on their database. As I clicked on the link, logged into my account, and reviewed the application I wrote in 2001, I thought of the possibilities that could have happened in my life.

I love teaching and traveling. Working for the Department of Defense would have merged these two things--teaching overseas in military bases. I wanted to live in Japan for a couple years and then in Germany, too. I would have lived on base, gained civilian-military status, paid off all my debt while enjoying the luxuries of diverse cultures and societes.

Although my parents and friends say that I'm at that age where I need to settle down and start establishing roots--the genealogical kind--I feel that I need to accomplish as much as I can while my roots have not yet taken root, so to speak.

With that, I updated my application. As I wrote more paragraphs to describe my skills, clicked on all the qualifications that applied, and revised my references from college professors to colleagues and supervisor bigwigs, it made me realize just how much I have grown and developed professionally in my career. I may not have established genealogical roots, but my professional roots seem to be firmly planted. Do I really want to leave all that to start over in another country and in another educational environment?

It was a question I pondered for five minutes, and my final act was clicking on the "SUBMIT" button... for the 2009-2010 school year, the school year after next. I can't leave this place just yet. There is still some major ass-kicking to do at the district.

I'm going to play this by ear. I don't count on being hired; after all, my first application was back in 2001 and they interviewed me three years later. Although I would love to have a job with the Department of Defense, I wouldn't be disappointed if they overlook my application again. But if I am hired this time around, I'm ready for a change.

This Is a Test

Six years ago I wrote about how my car guages the perfection of my life, and each time I think too highly of how my life is perfect, I get into a car accident.

As of 7:45pm this evening, I became a victim of a hit-and-run accident. My emotions are running a bit high, from anger to relief. I'm angry because the other [teenaged] driver said he would help me out, and then he got into his car and drove off. I hope karma bites him in the ass. My car withstood the impact; I hope he and his passengers get whiplash, or his car will break down, or he'll get into another accident (because he drove away pretty fast).

But now I am left to ask myself: is my life perfect that God or fate had to send me another accident to remind me of how life is not always perfect? I'm not upset that my car is damaged; maybe that says that I'm not upset too much about the impact of this accident on my life. I'm relieved I'm not hurt. My car is still taking beatings for me. I'm content. Life is okay.

I still hope that teenager gets some karma back at him though.

Five Year Reflection

When I first started teaching, I never believed that I would have lasted this long. I wanted to give up because I truly thought teaching was too hard. Five years later, I'm still here. I can honestly look back at my first year of teaching and laugh at it; I can laugh at my immaturity and my neophytic perspective that almost made me want to kill myself.

As a first year teacher, I would get all kinds of advice and inspirational aphorisms from veteran teachers who wanted to keep me in the field and keep me motivated. All the while, I used to silently think, "You have no fucking clue what I'm going through." It was colossal adjustment--trying to teach something when I did not know what I was teaching, grading work when I did not understand my own philosophy about measuring intellect, accepting the fact that my weekends would never be truly mine, disciplining kids when I never had my own, and feeling guilty when I needed a moment for myself. In a span of three weeks, I was emotionally drained and mentally pushed to the limits, stretched thin in between that I lost my balance and made a decision to leave the teaching field. I'm glad I did not leave. I'm glad that I discovered my own strength in determination and pride: my pride never would have let me accept that I failed at something I have always wanted and loved; my determination kept me afloat in, what appeared at the time, Sisyphean waters. If I hadn't known these two things existed within me, I never would have stayed in this profession.

During these five years, I've learned so much more and discovered new things about myself. I may not have as many epiphanous moments, but I have rejuvenating episodes with my students, and every year, I know that I am growing professionally, mentally, and even spiritually. I'm at a point where I no longer wish to know my future and have the wisdom of old age. As I grow comfortable with my life, I've learned to be patient and embrace each day: the future will always be there waiting for me, but the acquisition of wisdom and experience is what makes life worth living slowly.

TA

Sometimes I learn the most sensible things about life from my teacher's assistant.

A year ago, he came into my classroom after school, needing to talk to someone about his girlfriend and the complications and hassles of a relationship. Before I started to silently scoff about "teenage relationships" and drama, I listened to him and tried to understand his problems. His frustrations and opinions made me reflect about my relationship with an ex-boyfriend and the similarities of my relationship and the TA's relationship--regardless of differences in experience and age. My student did not ask for advice; he just needed to vent. But if he was seeking counsel from me, I would have to think carefully before saying anything, for I faced my own hypocrisy at that moment. In retrospect, I finally realized that letting the ex-boyfriend go was necessary, like conquering an inner demon. I have no regrets now. I learned something about relationships from my TA.

Another incident arose again. He came into my class to vent about another teacher who is screwing him over about assignments, and he's a bit stressed about his grade. We talked again for about an hour and the end of our conversation was about hobbies. He said he needed a new hobby in order to de-stress, and as he slowly observed my desk with a sarcastic eye, he flat out told me I needed to get a hobby, too.

I thought about all the hobbies I used to have: mountain-biking, reading fun books, writing fantasy stories, playing the cello... He's right: I need to get into a hobby again, maybe even a new one, like archery, knife-throwing, or shooting. I eat, breathe, sleep, and live my work, and he makes it known to me all the time. Maybe it wouldn't hurt if I had something else to occupy and cultivate my mind besides the decaying quality of my students' essays. *sigh*

My TA certainly lives up to his job description.

Tiny Surprises

In my last entry, I felt a little peeved because no matter what I did as a teacher, I thought it was all useless.

Several things happened this week that made me begin to believe again that teaching is always about the students. I could be as disgruntled as high as the heavens, but if I remember my job is about the kids, I should remain sane.

The events that happened were like a pat on the back--I must be doing something good. Things like this are rare. It's not everyday a student comes up to me to say thank you--or to any teacher at all. It shows in other ways.

Two students came up to me to ask me to write their recommendations for jobs and colleges. I used to think that writing recommendations is more work, but later came to realize that these students have trust in me. Trust is important between a teacher and student. If a student respects, likes, and trusts a teacher, then they do more for a teacher. These two students--both students from the past years I've been teaching--trust and like me. Writing those recommendations are so much easier than writing a recommendation by a student who just needs one. Trust is a compliment for my personality. I did something right by gaining their trust.

There are several students who I taught in the past and am teaching now who are acting in the school play of "Antigone." I love this play, and to see so many of my students playing in it inspires me. They all later tell me that they, too, liked the play when I taught it to them. They especially remember the crazy PowerPoint I made which I used to lecture about the Oedipus Myth. Everyone hates English, and if they don't hate it, they just don't like reading anything. To hear my students say that they remember "Antigone" or that their favorite book is Lord of the Flies is a compliment to my teaching. I did something right by engaging them and helping them to bring characters to life.

Recently a student wrote an essay in which he explained important events in his life. He wrote about meeting me and how I am one of the few teachers who pushed him to do any work. Just to read that one-third of his essay was about me, my energetic way of teaching, the tough-love approach I have when I tell my students to work, and probably the only teacher who ever believed in him when most teachers were put off my his "gangster" mentality and machismo attitude towards girls and women--all that he wrote about me made me laugh and inspired me. He writes about how I changed his life. He ranks me up there with his grandmother who passed away. Out of all the compliments I received in my life, his touched me the most. I cried when I read his essay. It was a compliment simply to me and everything that I stood for as a teacher.

June 2007 will be a difficult month. I'm going to see the sophomores I taught two years ago graduate as seniors. Most of them still come up to say hello and talk to me. It's nice to know that they haven't forgotten me just because they had me two years ago. It's nice to know that--no matter what I did--I did something right.

The Paradox Within

I feel I’m at a crossroad. Sometimes I think it’s still too soon to say such a thing after starting a new career, but this crossroad is suddenly in my face. I’ve been anticipating it all along, even while I was still in the credential program. 

I’m selfish and unselfish at the same time. Teaching is the career where both these qualities come out. 

I am selfish because I like my time to be MY time. With teaching, I devote my entire waking time to instructing, lesson planning, and the daunting task of grading and evaluating 180 papers and assignments from each student (well, a little less than that since some of them don’t even do their assignments). My time is no longer my time. I want to blow everything off. 

I am unselfish. I care about these students. I care about the quality of my work so they can be better individuals. In a way, I’m watching out for them and even a bit part of the population as these students grow up to be part of our society. Some of my evaluators have noticed that I care too much that I will devote my time to one student if that means helping just one to understand. I honestly feel that I can change this world with my profession, but that’s just not possible. Yet I still try. 

This is the crossroad: continue to sacrifice myself as I try to help these ungrateful and lazy students, or embrace my selfish nature at the cost of educating them? It's a bad thing when a teacher says, "I don't care," yet sometimes I feel that way. If some of these kids don't care about their future, why should I?