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Tuesday, January 3, 2012

At 23: Loving Life and Accepting its Complexities


At 23, I can say that I am living a wonderful life. I have great friends, who are always at my back to support and cheer for me, who are never hesitant to give a hand whenever I need help, and whose shoulders I can always lean on whenever life’s stressors and disappointments get on me.

At 23, I have a fulfilling career. I am a part of not only one environment, but of various ones. I am a teacher, honing minds and preparing students for their dreams. I am a civil servant, serving diverse stakeholders. I am an Applied Communications coordinator, learning new things, creating ways to let new technologies be of reach to our clienteles. I am an adviser, guiding, influencing young minds to create more, learn more, innovate more. I am a Pylonite, who never stops dreaming, who strives to continue improving myself, who teaches, shares and influences. I am a student, never stopping, always craving for more, and believing that learning is infinite.

At 23, I am earning – not that much, but enough… enough for my needs, my studies, and contribute to my family's pot and my brothers' schooling. At this age, I am able to help not only my family, but other people as well in my own little ways.

At 23, I can feel how the bond in my family has grown tighter and stronger. Despite everything that we have been through, we remain united and supportive to each other… and we will never be apart and broken and complicated like my Pa’s family.

At 23, I have a flourishing love life. I have a boyfriend (fiancĂ© na diay… :D), who always makes me feel special and loved, who loves and respects my family, who is very supportive, thoughtful, talented, loving, and who has all the positive traits you can think of (not exaggerating).

At 23, I am happy and contented… not as successful and fulfilled as I wanted (and still want) myself to be… but happy and contented, and loving and accepting life as it is.

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

My Teacher, My Hero, My Treasure


On October 5th, the entire world will be celebrating the World Teachers’ Day to honor our mentors who, in so many ways, have helped in honing us into becoming good and productive citizens.

Being a teacher myself, I know how it feels like to be honored and appreciated. All my weariness after a semester’s painstaking hard work always seem to vanish away whenever I read my students' evaluation of my teaching.

So, in observation of this very significant day in the lives of the teachers, I would like to honor and pay tribute to all those who have become my mentors and have played very significant roles in my life, especially those whom I will mention here.

My elementary days now seem like a hazy memory as those were more than a decade ago, but I will never forget my teachers who did a great job in teaching me the very critical lessons in life. Who will ever forget Ma’am Alvarez, the terrifying Grade 2 teacher who lives just in front of the school? She is the first teacher I ever had great fear on, but when she passed away before I even graduated, I think I cried the hardest. Her teaching may be tough, but that’s how we all do seem to learn best, don’t we?

My elementary Science teacher, Mrs. Barona, is someone I really look up to. She is whom I consider the best teacher in the school. She makes science a very interesting subject, despite all the experiments we have to make, observations we have to write and conclusions we have to start with “Therefore, I conclude” (:D).

My 6th Grade adviser, Ms. Glory Quiliope (now Glory Gerdes), is one of the reasons why I became part of the school paper in high school. She taught English very well. I can still remember when I was in 5th grade, I would always daydream of becoming a 6th grade and imagine myself inside her classroom. She is very eloquent, which is why I always got inspired whenever she talked.

My high school days were an amalgam of bliss and despair. Those were the days that I am very much happy to recall but will never, in a million years, live again. When I talk of high school and MNHS now, the very first person that comes to my mind is, none other than, Ma’am Gladie Cacaldo. Ma’am Dida played not only the teacher role but also the role of a good and cool friend. She is the main reason why high school is still very fresh to my mind. Whenever the memory of how and why she did not talk nor look at me for months slips my mind, I cringe and try really hard to place the memory back to the rearmost portion of my brain, where it belongs. Ma’am Dida never held boring classes even if the subject she teaches (Filipino) is one of the most boring subjects for me. She would always insert fun and delightful activities into our lackluster lessons. The last time I visited the school, she gave me one of the biggest and sincerest hugs I ever had that day, which almost made me cry.

Of course, there are my other high school teachers, who willingly imparted their knowledge to us: Mr. Barona, Ma’am Pinuto, Mr. Guanzon, and Ma’am Rosemarie Bohol. They are the people, who have contributed a lot to my pot of knowledge, and for that, I sincerely thank and honor them.

My college years were the ones I am most proud of. I often share with my students how I struggled and worked my way through college to inspire them to study and persevere, and I would always feel glad whenever I see that strange twinkles in their eyes.

Our college dean, Dr. Ochotorena, who calls me her daughter, will always be a part of my success. She is the one who encouraged me to take the academic track and still continues to inspire and support all my undertakings. Then, there’s Dr. EVT, my brilliant MBA professor, who never fails to challenge and inspire me to pursue the degree. Her brilliance emanates to the entire classroom, yet she stays humble and accommodating to her students.

I sincerely thank all my mentors for helping me become who I am today and my salute to all the teachers in the world. Your patience in teaching and educating your students truly makes the world a better place.

Happy Teachers' Day!

Friday, September 30, 2011

Rich and Famous

I was once asked by my Philosophy teacher what I wanted to be -- a very simple question that entails a very simple answer. I stood up from my desk and said, looking straight into his eyes, “I want to be rich and famous.”

It took him a few seconds to respond and he gave me an inscrutable long look. On the background, I heard murmurs from my classmates; and when I looked around, I met some pairs of equally inscrutable eyes. I really didn’t know how that simple and totally honest answer can cause such a fuss. Perhaps, it’s because he wasn’t expecting that kind of answer after the previous ones’ answers were same old, boring, and, nothing else, but all answers that can only be borne out from Boringsville.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, my teacher seemed to have awakened and immediately realized he is in the middle of a class. “Well, that’s for Ms. Nocete. Rich and famous (he was looking contemplative while saying this). Anyway…” And he continued his discussion on ambitions and getting there and many other things that all seemed like a blur to me. I could see his lips moving, but I could not hear a word he’s saying. All I was thinking then was how I sounded. I recalled the looks I got after having uttered the words, but I couldn’t seem to decipher the mystery behind those.

I attended a retreat organized by the nuns I worked for when I was still in college. One of the things we were asked to do was to draw our plans and ambitions on a piece of paper, and write down at the back of it how we plan to achieve them. I can still recall how excited I was to tell the people around me what my dreams are. However, after seeing what the others have drawn and written, I felt like such an overly-ambitious freak. Their dreams and ambitions were all so simple and small-scale (i.e. have a job, a family, a small house), I felt like snapping at them and telling them how easy it is to get a husband, make kids and build a nipa hut in the woods. And like my Philosophy teacher, the nun gave me that look I so hate to ever see again. She even managed to lecture on how frustrations over unachieved dreams can make us do crazy things, which, thanks to her, made me look even more pathetic.

Okay, I admit I am ambitious, but come on, what is the point of dreaming anyway? Don’t normal people dream of things they can’t easily get? Is it just me who knows how to do it properly?

Setting goals high can actually help one in the end. That is, for as long as he knows how to manage failures and defeat, as these two, as I have read and learned, always come first. And yep, I have long prepared myself for them.

So, if you ask me now what my dreams are, I will answer you with the same thing. To be rich and famous. Yep, I’m sticking to it!