Intent and Effect

Had dinner and had a long warm shower. I feel exhausted. I cried in class tonight, well, after class.

So there we were, talking about Conflict Theory and Functionalism - how the dominant class imposes universal norms on the subordinate class, creating false consciousness that fosters a hegemony. It was unavoidable, then, to talk about the different classes and how people who earn less usually go to schools that do not provide a curriculum that is as challenging and fulfilling as the curriculum of the schools where the more economically advantaged go. In effect, in a functionalist society, "poor" kids get "bad" education, and therefore land low-paying jobs; while "rich" kids get "good" education, and therefore land high-paying jobs. The "poor" remain "poor," the "rich" remain "rich." However, functionalists argue that if an individual tries "hard enough," he/she will eventually succeed. Conflict Theory (which yes, borrows a lot from Marxism) says that this isn't necessarily true, therefore the subordinate class must create conflict to instigate change.

The discussion turned into the role of education in our functionalist society and the roles we, as teachers, take in the propagation of one theory over the other. One of my classmates said that while it is unfortunate that class dictate who becomes successful in life, at the end of the day, she would prefer a surgeon who had good grades in school rather than a surgeon who did so-so in school - and in effect, choosing the surgeon who came from a "good" school.

Another classmate, however, felt that grades did not necessarily reflect the skill of a person in the real world. He gave himself as an example. He said that he did poorly in school, but he thinks he's doing pretty well as a teacher. He even went so far as to say, "I wouldn't want a teacher who had a 4.0 GPA in college to go near my kids. He wouldn't know how to speak to my daughter."

Well.

I might not have gotten a 4.0 GPA, but I did pretty well in school. I would've been excellent had Math not been a requirement (curse you, Mathematics!) and I am now maintaining a 4.0 GPA in grad school (whew, no more Math). But I don't want my performance in school to be held against me. Bad grades should not be used to make untrue and hasty generalizations about people's performance in the real world - and neither should good grades! I told him that it was unfair to make those statements, especially since it implied that I would not be an effective teacher. Schooling is not the only factor that influences a person's ability. I grew up in a third world nation where good education is a luxury, even though it is said that it is a right.  Does that not at least affect my effectiveness in the classroom with regards to being able to reach out to the students who are doing poorly in school? I think that that should be enough grounds to say that I would know "how to speak" to that that guy's daughter. Bad grades do not a person make, and neither do good grades. I refuse to believe that my being a good student deters me from being a well-rounded person! I told him that he should not be making generalizations about one extreme while desiring not to be held against the generalizations made about the other extreme.

Suddenly, Mark (not his real name), another classmate of mine said he had had it with the generalizations made in class. He took offense with how the class was using words like "They" and "Them" to stress how the subordinate class was this entity that was so separate from who they were ("they" meaning my classmates). As a teacher in a racially diverse school, he felt that the least the class could do was to name "them" if they were going to talk about "their" situation. African American. Latino. Asians. Poor.

Well, that opened a nasty can of worms. Immediately, my other classmates went on the defensive. He was telling the class the disappointment he felt and the others took it against him. Up until that point in class, I was limiting myself to the theoretical arguments about functionalism and conflict theory. There were a lot of generalizations going around and I chose not to play the race chip, even though there were only two other girls who were not white (one was African American, the other was Latina). I always find it interesting (to put it mildly) to watch white people talk about racism and class inequality and see them talk about it passionately. I often wonder what they would feel like if they were the ones who were different. But here was a white man (and in any society, that is the best representative of any dominant class: educated, white, male) and he was standing up for me and the other "people of color"! He was a virtual stranger, but I felt as if he knew exactly what I was feeling.

At one of the lulls that followed the heated arguments, I said that there is a difference between intent and effect. While the others might not have intended their words to have that effect, the effect is undeniable. Mark was offended, and frankly, so was I. He just had the chutzpah to say it, I didn't. And in the final analysis, I think effect is more important. Intent is debatable, effect is undeniable. I couldn't understand how my classmates' resentment over the perceived accusation of some mild form of racism takes precedence over Mark's real offense to the language my classmates inadvertently used.

The class ended soon after that because we really were at a standstill. Tempers were flaring and it was really very uncomfortable. When everyone was filing out, I shook his hand and said, "Thank you." I meant to say more, but I couldn't let go of his hand and I started to cry. I was so overwhelmed by his bravery to speak up for someone who was so unlike him. Finally, since I couldn't let go of his hand (because I could hardly stand anymore), he hugged me and he said, "Thank you."

Wow.

Dreaming A Nation To Be

School's definitely back. I wrote this as a requirement for a class. We were asked to think about "nation" - what it means, how is formed, etc. I ended up writing this. I wasn't bargaining on it being this personal, but there you go.

I can't wait to go back home.

Edited on: 1/15/2008. I added a few things to my paper so I edited it here as well. :-) Some parts from the original paper are left out, though, as they are very personal in nature.

***

My family and I moved to Grand Rapids on 2001. I had just graduated from college and idealism was flowing quite healthily through my veins. I did not want to move to the States – at the point when we moved, I had already begun living on my own and I wanted to stay behind and do my own thing in the Philippines. Kicking and screaming though, I joined my family.

I never shared my fellow Filipinos’ fascination with the US. I have tons of kababayans (Filipino for “countrymen.” Bayan means “country.” The prefix ka- is the same as “co-" in “co-worker”) living illegally in this country because it promises more money, more stability, and more opportunities for growth. I, on the other hand, am afflicted with the haughtiness that comes with the city-born and bred upper-middle class. Growing up, I already had money, I already had stability, and I already had opportunities for growth. Instead of viewing America as a land of opportunity, I thought it was the land of excess. I resented it because my country always saw itself as inferior in relation to America.

When 9/11 happened, my heart went out to those who died and to those who were left behind. To combat the growing hatred against foreigners that came in its aftershock, I remember seeing an ad campaign airing over and over again. A diverse bunch of individuals were saying the words, “I am an American.” They managed to pick individuals that looked nothing like each other, and their message was clear: stop picking on the foreigners. Despite best efforts though, for the first time in my life, I felt horribly different. Suddenly, we were the enemy just because we were different. We live in Grand Rapids, and we couldn’t be more different than all the other Van Somethings and De Somethings.

I decided to go back home after just 6 months in the US. When I got back home, I embraced my idealism with vim and vigor. I was determined to make something of myself, and I tried to turn my back away from my bourgeoisie background. What I ended up doing was a compromise between my idealistic and pragmatic self: I became a teacher, I helped shape the next generation…in an exclusive, prestigious, and expensive Catholic all-boys high school. I was teaching boys who had pretty much the same hoity-toity background I have, but I wanted them to realize that they could and should go beyond that. I still wonder how effectively I was able to do that.

Now, I live here in Grand Rapids again, with my husband, as a full time graduate student. I still harbor the same resentments I had before, albeit now with a tinge of sadness. It was a sad day when I grew old enough to realize that my parents were human and made mistakes – it’s the same now that I see that America isn’t so great after all. I am more forgiving of the US and its citizens. Ignorance more than hatred fuels so many of its people and while it is a constant struggle to remind myself to rise above the situation, I know I need to; the scornful look, the hushed voices, or worse, the quasi-benign, overly-saccharine smiles of condescension notwithstanding.

Reading about Beowulf’s journey to Denmark, to help a nation that wasn’t his own, I started rethinking about the guilt I felt at abandoning my own country. When Beowulf and his company arrived at Denmark, Hrothgar’s herald and officer said, “Stoutness of heart / bravery not banishment, must have brought you to / Hrothgar” (337-339). Beowulf saw a huge challenge awaiting him at Hrothgar’s kingdom, and he took it, and ultimately, his success there began what was to be his great legacy. His experiences in a different country allowed him to be a better ruler for his own country. I could only wish to do the same as a teacher.

I believe that a nation relies mostly on its people for its identity and I struggle with this because I am trying my best to define who I am in the context of my home country and the country that now educates me – so that I may educate my own people. I am but one person, but I know I help define my nation; in the same way I know that one racist (insert swear word) does not define this nation.

But it is problematic to define what a nation is because people are no longer limited by borders. My being over and beyond the borders of my country has made me think more about my nation and my nationality more. I now look and think about my nationality in terms of how it is shaped by my being here. I am more known for my nationality now more than ever (pretty much the same way that Beowulf was the Geat who saved the Danes) and I find that I have to disconnect who I am from where I come from long enough to understand how those two aspects of myself are intrinsically joined. I live in a constant state of juxtaposition and while the situation may not be the most comfortable, the realizations bring much comfort.

Yes, too many of us are hungry for food, education, attention, and the chance to make a better life. I listen to my classmates who teach in cushy districts and they complain of inattentive students and I think about the children back home who have to make do with the shade of a mango tree for a classroom. And they have to compete with ants to sit on the muddy soil underneath it. I think of the teacher who teaches 50-70 students at a time for a pittance, who chooses to remain in the country to teach despite the exodus of other teachers to become domestic helpers in countries far and away. But we laugh, and boy how we laugh. And we dream, and we have big dreams.

It’s snowing again outside and I’ll probably have another bowl of cold cereal for breakfast and that’s about as un-Filipino as my morning can get (oh, to have the warmth of a muggy, tropical sun, and the smell of roasting garlic and rice!) This paper has also taken a life of its own – I did not intend for it to be thing long and personal. But this is precisely why I am grateful to be here: to study, to be outside my comfort zone, and to learn things I otherwise would never have learned had I not left home – so that I could go back home and hopefully be a better teacher. A friend of mine said that there is a resurgence of the desire to either go back home or give back to our country within our generation of Filipinos living abroad. Dare I say, we are going to be the ones who will define our nation.

Call Me Algernon and Bring Me Flowers

Yes, I know, it's been ages.

I've done nothing but do school work and I'm getting pretty bummed out (yes, Thanksgiving festivities notwithstanding - but we did go Black Friday shopping...).

There are actually more things on my mind but I can't seem to bring myself to write them down - writing them down would make it more real, and I'm on ultra denial mode right now. I'll indulge in a few soul-cleansing sobs when I'm done with all my papers.

Depression used to control me, now I'm scheduling my next bout of it. This getting old thing might actually be good for something (yes, sadly, I turned 27 since the last post. Even that was pretty uneventful).

It's just that with the advent of all these memes, Facebook applications, and mindless surveys, it's easy to think that I'm already sharing my feelings. Or at least dealing with them. But I'm not - I feel like I'm whoring my superficiality to the world. I have one "friend" from Friendster (geez, can you see how bad it is? I have a Friendster, Multiply, and Facebook account! I also have Ruckus, Shelfari, and Snapfish accounts...And still I feel so detached from the world!) who does nothing but put up surveys he has answered. Really. That's. All. He. Does. I don't want to end up like him! I don't want to end up being someone's quotation-marked-friend ("friend")!!!

I guess, in the same way that too much pre-packaged food is bad for your body, pre-packaged feelings-sharing via memes, Facebook applications, and mindless surveys is bad for your soul.

Meanwhile...on to my mind. I have to go back to studying. Sigh.

Hazy Computer Monitor Glow, Blanket Around Shoulders, Typing in the Dark

...this is how I shall spend the night tonight. No sleep for me.

***

The other night, there was another Filipino in the bus. He had a cap on with the Philippine flag. I would've recognized my kababayan without the hat though. I found that I've developed a sort of Highlander Sense of the Other. Remember that TV show called The Highlander? ("I am Duncan McLeod of the Clan McLeod...There can be only one!" [Of course, when I was younger, I thought it was "McCloud" and I thought it was such a cool name. Well, it still is. Not just as cool]). Anyway, remember how all the immortals could just sense each other? Like there was this internal tugging of sudden, deep, and immobilizing recognition. It's like that for me now. I have such a heightened sense of the Filipino Other now that I'm in America's Dutch (read: blue eyes and blond hair) Hotspot.

Anyway. I was waiting for him to make eye contact with from across the bus so I could start a conversation. But in true Filipino-in-the-midst-of-foreigners style, he was too busy minding his own business. Meanwhile, I was trying to think of ways to start a conversation with him:

"Hey, nice hat," or "Pare, Pinoy ka?" or the classic, "Uy, tiga sa'n ka sa 'tin?"

Of course, I didn't know if he still spoke the language, he might have grown up here and all. But I figured, if he's wearing a cap like that (and believe me, that was a huge flag on that cap), he ought to at least understand Filipino.

And then I heard him talk on the phone. "'Ba malay ko, aalis daw sila bukas e."

Jackpot. Nag-Ta-Tagalog nga!

Alas, he got off the bus a stop earlier than I did and my new almost-best-friend never knew what a comfort his mere presence was.

It's silly to feel so forlorn about that whole episode. I know it's my own fault. I ought to at least try to make new (American) friends here. But as much as I want to...I don't. Does that make sense?

***

The real reason I couldn't sleep: I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow.

For years, I've had terrible dysmenorrhea. When I say terrible, I mean paying-for-the-sins-of-all-my-past-lives terrible. For almost half of my life, I've been in pain, half of the time. I often wonder what it would be like to spend one whole day without any kind of pain, or the anticipation of it. I'm in pain so much that I can almost not complain about it for lengths at a time. I've seen doctors for it but they always seem to try to medicate the pain and not necessiraly the cause. Even then, the pain has never gone away.

One doctor told me I had endometriosis. Another ran a battery of tests only to prescribe some totally expensive and useless pill. Another doctor told me I had to get pregnant by the age of 26, or else I won't have a chance to get pregnant (I'm turning 27 in 3 weeks...gasp...I'm turning 27 in 3 weeks. I just realized that now! But that's for a different post at a different time...) I've been poked and scrutinized and - well, let me just stop there. I don't want to get too graphic.

Tomorrow, I'll be going to a specialist. Yes, yes, I should've done that sooner. Truth to tell, I've been to all sorts of doctors and I thought I had already gone to see a specialist. Apparently, I haven't. Well, at least tomorrow I'll be going to a doctor who really deals with this sort of thing. I'm scared to find out what's actually wrong with me. At the same time, though, I really just want to know why I'm always in pain. I don't know what to expect. I have a feeling that there won't be anything significantly wrong; or worse, nothing significantly new to tell, and that is worse. And then I'll be left in pain, again. In the dark, again.

Sort of like right now.

Sigh. There's always adoption. (And yet, as I write that futile attempt at humor, I realize, it's not really funny.) But seriously, we can always adopt. We can always adapt.

I hate this. I really, really, really do.

Coming to the Surface for Air - Mindless Rambling

Yeah, I know. It's been forever. :p

4 major papers and 2 presentations later, I'm still alive. I've completely forgotten what it was like to be a student in the middle of midterm season. (Middle of midterm - so is that quarterterm? Obliquely to the right/left term? Forget it...)

And so I'm taking a deep breath and waiting for the next big thing to happen.

***

Saw that Bizarre Foods episode on the Philippines again. Boy how I miss home. I want to go home. Home, home, home, home.

***

Autumn's here. Love it. And so the world turns.

When was the last time you rode on swings?

My brother had soccer try-outs this afternoon so Chaddy and I watched. Well, it was hot and it was longer than we anticipated, so we ended up going to the nearby playground (which was shaded, hence the initial appeal).

I made a beeline for the swings and realized that I hadn't ridden in swings since I was about 9 or so. So away I went on those swings. Oi! The most amazing feeling! It almost made me forget about the tons of stuff I have yet to do for school, the fact that we have next to zero money, and the fact that I'm 26 and probably too old for swings.

I tried all the other stuff around the playground, too. They were too small for me to fully enjoy though (yay! Finally, something too small for me...of course, the playground was for small kids...) so I went back to the swings.

I didn't accomplish much today. I was supposed to finish my Faulkner book today, mail my petticoat to my best friend (she needs "something borrowed" for her wedding...wee! Hi, Sara!), and start on my Assessment assignment, but I ended up being on the swing this afternoon.

Well spent, I say. :-)

Unbearable Lightness of Being

I feel so wishy-washy; very faint and sketchy; very melted-ice-cream-y.

I think this is the effect of not having real work in more than a year. I need to work. (I shall regret these words, I know.)

There are parts of my brain that I haven't used in so long. *shakeshakeshake* My brain looks like the attic in which that Avon lady found Edward Scissorhands.

I've been looking at friends' profiles in Friendster to pass the time (I'm downloading a bunch of stuff again) and I miss home. I miss my old friends.

I hear that it's raining something fierce in Manila now and I miss my horror days when I used to live alone in our pseudo-haunted house.

I'm reviewing the traffic laws since I haven't driven in 6 years! I miss those days when I used to be self-sufficient and could drive anywhere. I don't miss my road rages, but I'm indulging in a few chuckles in relative-safe recollection.

Gah. I can't even make a proper entry. Have you guys noticed? Grrr.

"More nervous than a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs."

Ahlavet! Heard that from my all-time, feel-good, no-brainer, rerun-to-death series, Matlock.

***

I registered for 4 classes this term (12 units) and I'm a bit anxious to start this whole new phase of being a full-time graduate student. I'm thinking I won't stress out so much considering I won't have any other responsibilities (read: I won't be working anyway). But I am worried about being able to get into the groove of things.

***

My husband's coming in a little over 24 hours. And then we'll be off to Indiana for the weekend. I've spent most of the past 2 days getting our little "apartment" (read: my parents' basement) ready. If only I can do something about these walls...

***

I'm fretting. I'm fussing. Things are happening all around me and I feel so static. Huge changes are afoot. I'm more nervous than a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.

Sticking To It

My dad and I were watching the Today Show this morning and they did a feature on this 18-year old kid who bought farmland with the help of his family and neighbors in a small farming town in Massachusetts.

One of his neighbors wanted to retire from farming, but didn't want to sell it to some corporation that would only transform his farmland into houses and whatnot. So he sold it to the kid that helped him out every summer. He was offered millions by those big corporations. He sold it to the kid for only $32,000.

Now the kid is selling produce from his farm and his neighbors help him out by buying from him. He's keeping his town real, upholding their identity and celebrating its bounties.

He didn't go to college anymore. Some people might not dig that, but he's too busy digging into his own plot of land to care. This is what he believes in and he's sticking to it. It might not be glamorous nor convenient, but he's sticking to it.

***

An uncle and an aunt recently became bona fide American citizens. My dad and I were talking about it this morning and, like me, he doesn't want to be an American citizen - especially because it means that by doing so, you have to denounce your original citizenship. (Of course, you can always apply for dual citizenship, but that comes later on, I believe.) That is something neither my dad nor I would like to do.

I had a conversation with a friend of my in laws and he was telling me about the beauty of America, the land of opportunity, and how, since I'll be living here for a while, I should be taking advantage of that to the fullest extent. (Now there's something I haven't heard before. Ooh.) I was trying to explain that my intention was to study, maybe work a while, but Chaddy and I wouldn't want to settle here for good. We don't want to raise our children here entirely. Canada, maybe, but not here.

He said I should stay long enough to be a citizen. (Again, how novel! Where do people come up with such capital ideas???) And I said, no, thank you, I don't want to be a citizen. And then he gave me this look. Mind you, we had just met, and he gave me a look like, "You must be one of those crazy, flaming, liberals..." Well, yes, I probably am, but no matter. He gave me a look. And we had just met.

And then he said, "Well, Bush won't be president forever. Your views might change."

And I said, "No, not really."

And he said, "But maybe when you have kids, it'll be different."

And I said, "We specifically do not want to raise our kids there."

And he said, "Maybe your parents will petition you."

And I said, "They would, but then I've already told them I didn't want to be a citizen, so they've let go of that."

And he said, "Think of all the conveniences! For one, you can get to travel anywhere and not need a visa!"

And I said, "Why do something just for the convenience? If something is too convenient, why would it be worth doing?"

And he did: Blink-blink. Naubusan ata.

"It's a principle thing," I said.

And he let go of it either because (a) he had to go, (b) he knew he was going to be in for quite an earful if he asked further, or (c) I would have to get physical with him, even in the teensiest way, be it hurling a few spittle his way from my angry, frothing, liberal mouth.

See, this is what I don't understand. I get why others would like to be citizens. Totally get it. But I don't want to be a citizen. I don't force other people to subscribe to my liberal beliefs (hee-haw said the Democratic donkey...) We can engage in healthy debate, yes, but at the end of the day, I don't want to force people to have the same beliefs and dreams. I don't see why someone else has to force his dream on me.

My dream is to teach kids how to read and write well. My dream is to have kids who are articulate, compassionate, open minded, God-fearing, and (eek) liberal. My dream is to grow old with Chaddy, laughing and crying all the way. While location may not be that important - here, there, Canada, Tegucigalpa, Seychelles - I do not want to get rid of my citizenship. When I die, I will die a Filipino.

I am a Filipino by birth and deed and heart. I might not have chosen to be a Filipino, but I choose to remain a Filipino.

I am not a Filipino because of convenience; if it is too convenient, then why would it be worth doing?

What Happened During the Wedding

...ok, so here's what happened...

The morning started very calmly. Eerily enough, I was asleep by 9 pm the night before, so I was able to get a full night's rest, thank goodness. My make up artist from Pranav Salon (in Robinson's Galleria) came and did wonders for me and my mom. (Aside: Really, if you're looking for a place to do your make up with full on service, go to Pranav and look for Louie, the girl who did my make up. A. MA. ZING. Special thanks to my best friend Sara who sponsored the whole thing!)

We got married in a chapel in Marikina with just our families, our maid of honor, and our best man. Since no one else was there, they were surrounding us during the entire marriage rite which lasted about 12 minutes. It was one of the most intimate and special moments in our lives - to have the people we love the most really - and I mean really - share this most important event in our lives with us.

After that, we went to the Ateneo High School for our Thanksgiving Mass. We had about 70 guests - all of them our most intimate friends. I walked down the aisle with my parents by my side to the tune of I Must've Done Something Good from The Sound of Music, arranged by my best friend, GP Eleria.

The Mass itself was wonderful, full of happy tears - as the guests will tell you. We were just so overwhelmed with everything happening that we couldn't stop crying! The Ateneo Chamber Singers sang for us, and so did my friend Leslie Perez, my dad, and my brother. :-)

We then moved to the Seniors' Quadrangle, also at the High School, just a step, hop, skip away from the Chapel, for the reception. The food was EXCELLENT. Our caterer, Kaye Cunanan, served the most wonderful food. People were still talking about it weeks after the wedding. Really, if you have a wedding, a debut, a bar/bat mitzvah, heck, whatever coming up, you would really want to consider having it catered by her.

After the rather funny cake cutting ceremony, (we were cutting the fake-cake part...we didn't know that there were parts that wasn't cake. I mean, we hadn't done that sort of thing before...) we had our first dance. We danced to Break On Through by The Doors, to everyone's delight. (Yes, it was choreographed. Yes, I choreographed it. Yes, Chaddy really does love me that much to have done such a thing...)

And then the rest of the night, everyone basically just had fun. We were able to meet our guests and talk to them without having a photographer follow us around and tell us to act properly. Nono Felipe and Carlo Santos, two very dear friends of mine, took wonderful pictures. They were so paparazzi-like in their unobtrusive ways, all of the pictures looked alive and candid and real.

And so that's how the happiest day of my life went.

Thank you to everyone who made it possible. We will never forget that. :-)

Confessions of a Jetlag Addict (Part 2)

And so I'm back.

Everything's pretty much the same except that now it's a lot hotter than I remember. Oh, and the flowers are all out so my nasal passages are killing me. Otherwise, it's pretty much the same.

Turns out, I still have a way to go till my stuff for school starts, so I have all this time to play wifey. Chaddy's not here yet - hopefully he'll be here first week of August - so I have time to make this place look a little homey :-).

There were tons of stuff that I wanted to do while in the Philippines but wasn't able to do. Man. What with arranging the wedding, getting married, fixing my Visa, and then fixing Chad's Visa - we hardly had any time to do anything else!

So here's a list of the stuff I was meaning to do but didn't get to do (it's the thought that counts!):

1. Eat more isaw.
2. See more of my students and have actual conversations with them.
3. Go to Baguio.
4. Hang out with friends (you know who you are...yung iba kasi kebs na talaga e...)
5. Hang out with my brother more.
6. Go to Embassy (canyoubelieveit? I have never been there. I just want to go there and see which artistas will get into a catfight.)
7. Hug more of Sushi.

Ah, well. At least that means I really need to go back to the Philippines soon.