The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill

My world it moves so fast today
The past it seems so far away,
And life, squeezes so tight that i can't breathe

And every time i've tried to be
What someone else thought of me
So caught up, i wasnt able to acheive

And deep in my heart
The answer, it was in me
And I made up my mind
To define my own destiny

I look at my environment,
And wonder where the fire went,
What happened to everything we used to be?

I hear so many cry for help,
Searching outside of themselves
Now I know that His strength is within me

And deep in my heart
The answer, it was in me
And I made up my mind
To define my own destiny

And deep in my heart
The answer, it was in me
And I made up my mind
To define my own destiny

[This is an accompanying song to the essays below.]

The miseducation of Terence B

  There was this English textbook that our class used when I was in high school. In it was a story titled “Honorable Dishonor”. The story was about two bright students: one, a financially well-off boy who was posed to graduate class valedictorian and deservedly so; the other, the well-off boy’s closest competitor—a poor lad who would be the class salutatorian.

            One day while all alone in the classroom, the well-off valedictorian-to-be found a book which was inadvertently left by one of his classmates. Trying to determine to whom the book belonged, the valedictorian-to-be opened it and saw a letter inside. The book belonged to his closest competitor and the letter was for the latter’s mother. In the letter, the boy was saying sorry to his mother for not being able to graduate as valedictorian. The consequence was that he may not move on to college for the family was so poor that even his half-scholarship to college for being the high school salutatorian would not suffice. The family has absolutely no means to augment the half-scholarship. To add to that, this boy had many more siblings to be sent also to school.

            After reading the letter, the well-off boy went to the class adviser, related the incident, and gallantly declared that he was willing to give up graduating at the top of the class so that the salutatorian-to-be can graduate as the class valedictorian and be entitled to a full scholarship to college. This was not easy for this well-off boy to do since all his other siblings before him have graduated valedictorian but more than that, he also deserved to graduate as so. 

            In class, my high school teacher queried if I would be willing to do what the boy in the story did given the same set of circumstances. (I was the consistent first honors and expected to graduate at the top of the class.)

            Without really thinking, I readily said yes. At the time I felt it to be the proper response. The teacher praised and commended me without giving any justification why giving up what you deserve and fought hard for is the proper thing to do.

            Many years have gone by and I have developed into a critical-minded adult. If that high school teacher would ask me the same question, most likely I would have given a different answer. I would not have given a safe “yes” answer just to look (or sound) good and to please her. I probably would have said “no” and launch into a discussion on the ill-effects of having an “entitlement mentality”, the benefits of self-reliance and the difference between true altruism and false altruism.

            The above epiphany suddenly came to me when I read in the papers about the error-filled DepEd (Department of Education)-sanctioned textbooks and the courageous teacher (Antonio Calipjo-Go of the Marian School), initially thought of as a crank, who questioned the facts presented in those textbooks used by many (I think, high school) students all over the country.

            We need more people like him in the academe and in our educational system—people who are critical-minded and do not just accept facts and information as they are.

            As you can see, as one news organization put it, “facts are not mere facts; information is not just plain information”. Facts and information do have an effect on their consumers.

More important, however, than having error-free textbooks are teachers and/or educators who can think critically and can pass such ability on to their students. More important than having the gumption to kvetch is the ability to think critically, question or challenge the status quo and the guts to stand for what one believes what ought to be. “What is as important as a beautiful mind is a courageous heart,” so goes a line from the movie “A Beautiful Mind”.

            Again I am reminded of this incident related to me by one mother: Her son was supposed to get a perfect score in an exam but for one mistake. On the blank space before the question “What is the color of an egg?” her son wrote “brown”. The teacher put a big X mark on the answer.

            To a certain extent I believe that I may have been miseducated. (I may have also used those error-filled textbooks during my time.) So too those classroom kids who for many years have used those error-filled government-sanctioned textbooks and who have without question listened to so-called voices of authority who believe that all eggs are white.

            I have this not-so-funny feeling that my miseducation would take some time to be undone.  

[ I found this in my Journal. ]

                 

Plants versus zombies

 

Are older generations necessarily better than younger generations?          

  This question has been tugging at me because I have always heard older people telling us, the younger ones, that today’s youth have become way too wayward in terms of character/personality formation, aspirations, desires, and interests. I am sure, just like me, you have heard your parents and grandparents reminisce (and loudly at that!) how they used to be, and how things used to be during their time. I am sure too that you have heard older folks (even those other than your parents and grandparents) compare today’s youth with the youth (meaning, them) of yesteryears.

  Are we really different now as compared to our folks? Or are we actually cut from the same cloth--- only now with “extra trimmings and decorations?”

  Many youngish people out there can identify with the fact that parents and/or grandparents would usually say how their characters had been forged through hardships, how they had to pass various crucibles to be able to get what they want, and how they had fought very hard for their goals and to be able to arrive at where they are now. They would beguile us with tales of how they had to walk several kilometers to get to school, that they (the grandparents, anyway) had to study under the light of oil or gas lamps, that they had to stay with a snooty relative in the Big City only to be treated like the household help, how they had to wear hand-me-down clothes.

  Contrastingly, they would point out, today’s youngsters are complacent, lackadaisical, and readily exhibits entitlement mentality. It is also pointed at that we get by (or try to) with charm, quick fixes, superficiality, etc. In short, we lack character.

  One is then constrained to ask: Is a cross-sectional comparison between our parents and grandparents on the one hand and our selves on the other, warranted? Is this at all fair?

 The milieu that we, today’s youth, are situated in is different from that of our parents and grandparents. Today we are constantly and increasingly faced with temptations and distractions which were not that rampant during our parents’ and grandparents’ time---advances in technology and communications, T.V., illicit substances, unique and multifarious forms of recreation, malls, etc. Of course it would be stupid for a young person to easily succumb to these temptations and distractions (but the possibility which is not at all far-fetched). Resisting all these take much willpower and emotional strength. To be able to focus on one’s path or goals unfettered by present-day distractions may be said to be nothing short of amazing indeed. Our parents and grandparents didn’t have the kind of distractions and temptations that we now have.

 It may also be asserted that we are more critical (as in critical-minded as opposed to griper). We question the status quo and we just don’t accept paradigms, ideas, traditions and passed-on orientations as they are. (I do hope this is really, really true of us, today’s youth.) This difference is actually good since questioning things and being critical of the status quo is an avenue for progress. It is one way of evolving, a way through which we can retain what is good and chuck the bad, of separating the chaff from the grain (in a manner of speaking).

 One trait which cannot be used to describe today’s younger generation is timidity. In fact, we are just the opposite---adventurous, brash, liberal, risqué even. I am not quite sure if this is totally positive or totally negative. But for sure, we are generally a bunch of risk-takers more so than were our parents and grandparents.

 It would be unfair if we will be “judged” vis-à-vis our folks using the same parameters or criteria. It’s like trying to pit plants versus zombies. (This is just a popular culture reference. It is absolutely wrong to refer to our folks as zombies, laughing out loud, wink wink, nudge nydge.) Okay, we might be the same “banana” still just like them but we are now of a different hybrid. This may not necessarily mean an improved version but we have acquired an entirely unique set of traits all our own which are enough to set us apart from them. We do not mean to (that is, be set apart from them) but we just are, we just have been.

  In short, we are our own persons. And that is reason enough to celebrate our own uniqueness. 

    

[ I found this in my journal. Yes, i usually write in complete sentences and full essays in my journal. The accompanying video is Tomorrow's People by Lilet of the Coke/Coca-cola TVC, in English (above) and Tagalog (bottom) versions.]

Band of “bothers”

      Is man by nature a violent creature?

      I am asking the question above because in all my years of studying (four years in college and four years and counting into law school), I have always observed violence happening around me.

       In an academic setting, the most common and rampant violence takes in the form of fraternity wars and hazing.

         In college at the state university, I can recall that every year a newly recruited neophyte died due to hazing. In my first year, an undergraduate died in the hands of his would-be “brothers” which made national news. (I would have to constrain myself from naming names here although I may be able to recall some of the victims and villains in some of those campus violence.) Ditto also in my second year, third year and fourth year.

My third year was particularly significant for me. In that year, another neophyte died which made national headlines (again). In fact, my roommate---a very lanky and naïve probinsiyano whom I thought could not even hurt the proverbial fly--- was implicated in the crime. He had to stop going to school. At that time, I heard that he was detained pending the trial of the case. The last news I heard of him was that the court pronounced him an accessory to the crime. He served sentence, but was released after the end of his sentence.

            To make light of all those observations, I had this running self-made joke at that back of my mind that I could as well be a chronicler of campus violence. If Herodotus was the historian-chronicler of the Greek wars, why not me as a chronicler of campus violence? How’s that for an alternative career?

            Fast track to law school.

            I thought that law school would be an entirely different experience. I expect that I will not anymore experience any campus-related violence. This is after all Law, a post-graduate course. I thought to myself, if college has its hazing and frat wars, it was probably because of the adolescent-to-adulthood phase when students are less prudent, less mature, and restless. In law school, everybody would be professional, probably intellectual, and serious-minded. Of course there would be fraternities but I had a bet with myself that I would never encounter any form of violence.

            I was wrong. In my third year into law school, there was a frat war. It involved the two fraternities in our institute. Some of those involved are even my classmates.  

Now I am quite convinced that I should make chronicling of campus violence an alternative career. I have observed much of it during college, and now even in law school I still encounter it.

            I am not trying to be facetious here. It’s just that campus violence is already a depressing subject in itself. I don’t want to add to its despondency. In fact, whenever any frat man would invite me to join his fraternity, I would flatly decline and would jocularly add something like: “I am already a member of a frat---frat-ing gutom and frat-ing tulog (always hungry and always sleeping). Or otherwise I would say I am already a member of this fraternity called frat, fret, frit, frot, frut. 

            Seriously now, I wish all this campus violence such as hazing and frat wars should end. Fraternities have become anathema to the ideals they are supposed to espouse. How would any sane and law-abiding person like to join an organization wherein his so-called brothers are potential killers, malefactors, or purveyors of physical abuse?

            If I’ll encounter one more incident of violence on campus, I’ll take that as a sign that I should become a chronicler slash historian of that area of human (mis) activity. That, or I’ll launch a campaign against it. 

Anti-Hazing Law  

[ I found this in my journal. ]

Video for Purple peace

Better than sex

Food, clothing, shelter, sex: basic needs for most people.

Food, clothing, shelter and. . . newspapers: my basic needs.

I grew up with newspapers. There always had been newspapers in our house. Even when I am away, I always buy or read newspapers, by sheer force of habit.

In the late 80's and into the 90's spent in this city and province (Dipolog City; Zamboanga del Norte), there were only two local newspapers: The Mindanao Observer and another. In terms of what was happening locally, I got my news and facts from The Mindanao Observer (MO). The masthead's color of the MO then was maroon. This color resonated throughout most of my life: I spent my high school at this province's state university (JRMSU) where the color of our school uniform was maroon (I don't know what it is now); and I went to UP Diliman where we were called UP Maroons. At that young age, MO had that subliminal resonance in me, not just as a source of news. The Observer (or more specifically the masthead) now comes out in several colors in addition to the color maroon that I grew up with---which is just fine since it comes out more frequently and the additional colors make it more vibrant. 

In my diaspora years in Manila, I always relied on the MO to know what was going on back home. Most of the Zanortehanons in diaspora also read MO to relive that connection with their home province/city. When you were that far away from home, you lose your identity; and news of home can be your only connection and means of reclaiming that identity.

Time flies and I think I have come full circle in some weird way: I have intermittently written a column for the MO. So my connection with this paper goes like this: I grew up with The Mindanao Observer as one of only two newspapers in the province, I have gone away thirteen, fifteen years or so and got to connect with my home city/province through MO. The cycle thus: I came back, I went away, and whatever else in between. . . and I write for this paper. The resonance is just uncanny. 

That resonance may have been more or longer for some readers of this paper since this paper has been in existence for forty-five (45) years now. Let me just pause a little and give this shoutout to The Mindanao Observer: Happy 45th year MO!

Otherwise stated, this paper has been the paper of your father and mother. This could have been the newspaper of you lolo. That's not a bad habit or tradition if you ask me; definitely even better than sex. Go ask your lolo. 

So get your copy of The Mindano Observer now. Be an observer, whenever, wherever. Let your lolo's or your father and mother's tradition live on! 

[This appeared in my column Justified in The Mindanao Observer, August 05, 2010.] 


10 surprising sex statistics


thedaily beast.com/Tantric paintings yield deep satisfaction
 

Pinoy Burger

(This essay was included in the book "100 Essays: Voices of the Tamaraws, published by the FEU Press)

“You are truly Pinoy if you mourned the passing of FPJ,” Benito, a schoolmate, remarked to me at the height of the grieving of national proportion at the sudden death of the so-called Da King.

I didn’t.

“Or when you catch yourself unconsciously humming to the tune of ‘Anak’,” he further remarked.

I haven’t.

To be honest, I sometimes find myself asking the question of whether I am truly Pinoy---that is, whether I have the sentiments and nationalistic fervor of a through and through Filipino. My self-query would sound really nutty for a person who was born and raised in the Philippines, educated for the most part in the Philippine public school system, has never travelled abroad yet, and fluent in Cebuano and Tagalog.

I am plagued with self-doubt because my friends and acquaintances usually point out my being an avid fan of everything foreign, most especially American.

I have to confess: I don’t watch Tagalog movies, I abhor Pinoy soap operas, I hardly give a fig about local showbiz nor to the people who inhabit in it, I prefer spaghetti and pizza to pancit and puto, the list goes ad infinitum.

On the other hand, I love watching foreign films (especially Hollywood flicks) and American TV shows, I tune in to CNN and BBC not ABS-CBN or GMA, I look up to Hollywood stars, I read foreign magazines and find some of the local ones really tacky; by force of habit I pick books by foreign authors and writers, I dream of someday studying and then living in New York or London or Sydney. But do all these make me less Pinoy?

On the other hand, I am proud of Lea Salonga, Lou Diamond Phillips, Tia Carrere, Jasmine Trias, Rob Schneider, Jessica Hagedorn, and other Filipinos who are making good abroad. I am indignant when the Philippines is or Filipinos are being discriminated by other nationalities; I usually let out a string of “Ano ba ‘yans?” when the Philippines make headlines as the most this and that---mostly negative---due to the shenanigans of some of our countrymen. (Do not forget Marcos, the creator of the “Love” virus, Imelda and her shoes, Erap’s millions and mistresses, corrupt politicians, senseless murders of journalists, the Abu Sayaff and their links to Al Qaeda, etc.).

At the core, I believe, I am still truly Filipino. It just so happen that I embrace foreign, particularly, American influences. I believe there is inherently nothing wrong with this. Globalization is a reality we cannot escape. We will constantly be bombarded by influences other than our own.

Embracing foreign influences is really not a bad thing as long as along the way one’s standards are improved and there is a better ideal to look up to.

It cannot be denied that the Philippines is steeped in corruption; mediocrity may still be prevalent; and various conventions and perceptions which are outdated and should have no place in a modern scientific world still abound. (Where else can you find so-called documentaries on manananggals, barang, aswang? Far from finding the scientific explanation to supernatural phenomena, our T.V. stations would instead feed us with coverage of preternatural creatures, without fail, every Halloween season.)

A true Pinoy is one who is proud of his roots, nationality, and culture but is not unaware of the not-so-positive side of his upbringing and orientation and in fact wishes to chuck them. A true Pinoy is one not afraid of the barrage of foreign influences for he knows that he will retain his identity by only embracing what is good in other cultures and adding that to what is also inherently good in his being Pinoy.

A true Pinoy abhors the mediocrity of his fellow Filipinos in the same magnitude as he abhors the blatant display of hegemony of other people. A true Pinoy is one who may now be wearing a coat and tie and has a Cockney accent but deep inside him still beats the same heart as that of his ancestors.

A true Pinoy as it may be defined in these times is one whose heart beats and whose mind operates locally but is simultaneously endowed with a global perspective.

From the above self-made criteria I now have a categorical answer to my conundrum: “Yes.”

How about you? Are you truly Pinoy?

Purple peace

[Published in my column JUSTIFIED in The Mindanao Observer]

(The original of this essay won for the author 2^nd prize in the 2005 Palanca Peace Essay Contest, an annual competition of essays on Peace, sponsored by the Palanca Foundation. Certain portions of the essay have been revised and updated to reflect the zeitgeist, the “(election) spirit of the times.” Several of this writer’s articles have seen print in national dailies, and mostly in The Philippine Star. A holder of Bachelor’s degree from U.P. Diliman and Ll.B. from FEU, he maintains a blog at http://justifiedmaster.blogspot.com/)

          Some images can neither be ignored nor forgotten.

        It was supposed to be just like any normal November morn. A local politician, represented by relatives and accompanied by a convoy of supporters and media people, was about to exercise a basic political right accorded to any free individual guaranteed by the laws of the land and sanctified by generally acknowledged basic human rights.

But this was not any normal, ordinary day. Two days before the horrendous incident, a mass grave was prepared using a backhoe emblazoned with the name of a powerful political warlord, and apparently owned by his powerful political family.

Before reaching its destination, the convoy was stopped by one hundred armed men, who abducted and later killed most or all of its members. At least some of the victims were shot in the genital area. Others were mutilated. Many were shot in the face, rendering them virtually unrecognizable.

Many victims’ relatives and the general public were at a loss for words, as truly an incident of such magnitude, considered the worst politically-motivated killing in the nation’s history, is beyond description and human comprehension.

On a more benign note, ordinary citizens, office workers, students and even the often-derided politically apathetic youth are excitedly registering to volunteer for an election-vigilance drive launched by a national media organization. They vowed to use their time during the elections to patrol their votes and be on the lookout for election and poll-related anomalies and to report them to the media and the proper authorities.

It is quite illogical and irrational why the latter image and all its positive ramifications and consequences cannot be more dominant and prevalent. This voter education and vigilance are imperative for the realization of a long desired free, orderly, honest, peaceful and credible elections in particular and a more stable political environment in general.

“The great aim of education is not knowledge, but action,” said political economist Herbert Spencer. And in this case, education and vigilance are a few of the very limited tools any ordinary participant of the political process can use to contribute to a culture of political peace.

Education in the political sense involves getting acquainted with the political process even at a surface level and knowing your rights in each stage of the process; but most importantly, for any ordinary voter, education in the political sense involves going beyond personality politics: know who you are voting for: their background and qualifications, their platforms and plans for where and for whom they serve. But it does not all end there. Knowledge must spur one to action---vigilance.

Vigilance--but not aggression---involves speaking up and standing up to what ought to be within the realm of one’s rights. It entails something as ho-hum as actually voting. For any ordinary voter, it consequently entails patrolling (to borrow that ubiquitous but definitely appropriate media slogan) your vote and making sure that your “voice” is heard and ultimately counted. It may be one tiny, little voice, but it is strong. It is your strength, inalienable and free; for in our democracy not every strength is a shout. Not even the threat of a massacre can snuff out and cower everyone in fear.

Peace is not the absence of fear, or conflict, or opposition, or dissension. It is the resolution of such fear, conflict, opposition and dissension. It entails knowing and doing: education and vigilance. And it could come in various colors.

In this season of democratic exercise, let that color of peace be purple.

Love Quotes, Love Quotes Graphics, Love Sayings, Facebook Quotes (clipped to polyvore.com)