Reality Checked

My official first week as Elementary just ended last Thursday. And to think it was fun, indeed it IS fun! The chance to touch these kids lives is one of a kind. The opportunity to be their math teacher and help them love the subject is challenging, yet satisfying on my part.

I remember when I was in college, a colleague asked me to shift from B SEd (Secondary Education) to B EEd (Elementary Education) so I would have more chance of molding young minds to love the subject hated by most--Math. I refused not because I don't want the challenge and the chance. I declined for I want to continue what I started with.

So, then, I thought I would not be teaching in Elementary. During summer of this year, I started sending application letters and resumes to my prospect school. My prayer is this: to let God lead me to the school where He wants me to teach at least for a year and to a community where I would learn more about life. Of the six schools I applied in, three responded and accepted me (including the school I am working at). I declined the first two schools for low compensation and lost inner peace. The third one is different. I have been called by the Principal and asked if I could apply for a teaching position. I said yes. Then, I processed my application and accepted just last Tuesday. I was requested to start teaching the next day. So I did.

The first steps are always the hardest. Then, the next ones are getting easier. The key is adaptation. I have never been good enough for this kind of game. I hardly adapt in my environment. But, this time is unusual. The warm welcome of the faculty and staffs, and the hungry minds of the kids to learn more about Math make me realize that indeed I am in a right place.

My first day is quite typical. I came in late for my first class, and unprepared for the second one. This always happens. Because of excitement? Not really. I came in late because of the epic traffic, and unprepared for the second class because I didn't have the materials yet.

Anyway, the first class is in Grade 3. (Wheew!) It is not easy to handle such class as this. There are kids standing and walking to and fro, talking to their seatmates as if there were no teacher; doing stuffs not related to Math, etc. The typical scenario happens in a room full of kids. I felt depressed after the class. I came to the point of questioning whether or not I really can handle elementary classes. I think of whether or not accept the challenge of teaching in Grade 3 or not. But, it is not easy to drop one class down. The students started to know about me, and that is just our first meeting. I decided to accept. I just need some adjustments with my teaching style and my approach.

After which, I met the Grade 5 students. The principal told me that class speaks English fluently so I have to prepare with how I talk to them. OK, I said. It is easy since I have been talking to a student in straight English. Well, I did a good job, the principal commended. But, I still have to adjust since I seemed like teaching big kids. Then, I met the Grade 6 again. They showed interest to the subject and to me as well. And that ended my first official day.

Several days have passed, I started asking and knowing my students in a more personal manner. I asked about their background privately. Some openly tell me their story, some hold back a little. After knowing some of the backgrounds, I re-checked it with their advisers and ask more about them. They said what I observed and what I knew about these kids.

Some of the kids are products of broken families. Yes, it is sad! It affects their performances and their lives. It saddens me. Why are there people who are irresponsible to leave their kids? These kids, though rich in material things, lack in a more important and more significant thing in life--love. And it feels like I have something more to do than mere teaching. It feels like aside from helping this kids love Math, I need to make them feel loved. And I know it is just started to happen not because of what I did but because of what God did through me. Say one of my colleagues, there are more to come and more to experience. I am way excited to teach these kids and make them love Math and realize Math is indeed fun!

Point of Intersection

Walking in a busy street, I saw myself hanged by a moment thinking of what might happen in the years to come. After graduating in college, the norm is to find a full time job vacancy and fill it with fresh ideas come from a fresh graduate like me. It was the norm!

Should I go forward or should I have a sudden shift of course?
I don't know still.

However, I have a very different case. I am working even before I got the chance to grab the most defining moment of my life--college graduation. It is two years now since I was accepted and hired in a tutorial center. All I was thinking the moment I got there is I might just work for two months. But, two months became three and months became years. And, I hope years will be counted continuously.

After graduation, the moment when everyone is busy passing resume here and there, praying some of the companies phone them up and call for an interview. Later, hoping to pass the interview and proceed to the other steps. Sooner, sign a paper indicating of being hired. I did the same. I did passed resumes to some schools. Some of which responded to my application and scheduled me for an interview. And a fewer number gets to contact me again for some other stuffs needed to accomplish. Until, one school asks if I was interested to join in the team and work there for at least 10 months. Things are yet to do so the contract signing was still undone.

One question, during the interview, really made me doubtful whether or not working in their school is what I want. In full honesty, I want to have a full time job in as early as possible. Our conversation went like this:

Interviewer (I): Are you planning to have other work outside the school?
Me (J): Yes, Ma'am. Actually, I am working in a tutorial center and it will continue by next school year.
I: I see. But, are you willing to sacrifice some of your time there? I mean, in this school, we ask teachers to go here during Saturdays to do other stuffs like lesson planning, etc.
J: Yes, Ma'am.
I: That was good. Even if it tells you that your time in the tutorial center you are telling will be lessened?
J: (in doubting voice) Yes?

In fact, it makes me cry every time I think of leaving the company I call home and the students I call friends. Yes, they are my precious gems. It is hard to leave such group where almost everything is in harmony. I have been so in love with these students I have handled and it will break my heart if I get no chance to teach them.
Yes, I want to be in a formal school and have a full time job. But, I can't compromise my position to teach these kids for the year to come.

I asked how the salary would be, and got no definite answer. A neighbor tells my mom that the school where I would be working at gives salary that is fair enough to live but low enough to save. If I would do some calculation, I can say I would earn more in the tutorial center than in school.

I don't know. Everything is still uncertain. It feels like I want chocolate cake and Mocha cake, but I only got one cake to choose and eat. Which will I choose? I don't know.

I don't know if I would continue my journey forward or I would have this sudden shift of course. I was in the point of intersection, if I may say this.

To the one who first called me JEM

                One o’clock in the morning, I am still awake. I can’t sleep not just because of the hot weather condition, but because I was thinking about the friendship I once have had with you.

                Yes, I know it is my fault to depend on you. Yes, it is wrong to expect something from you: something that you really cannot give. It hurt me to know that you have turned me down several times, but it never taught me to give up hoping that one day, some time, you would give what I asked; you would be with me at last. It never happened though, and I know it would not!

                I got mad at you for turning me down. I showed you and I made you feel I am indeed angry with you. You were sorry, you said. I accepted your apologies, though I didn’t feel it. I accepted it for the very reason I just want to move on. I don’t want another negative vibe in my life that is filled with negative powers. You were sorry because I don’t know. Do you want our friendship be back? Are you trying to capture my trust again? These are the questions flying around the corners of my room.

                To tell you the truth, I feel guilty with letting our friendship sink in the middle of the dark blue sea. It is not wholly my fault. You have yours. I tried to seal the little hole we had, but you let it became bigger. The misunderstanding we had—that only us could settle—became the conflict we have WITH our loved ones. I blame you for sharing them our problem. I tried to hide it from my side so you could have an image white as snow, but you just let mine be stained. People kept on asking what happened on us; if we have problem or whatever. I have no other choice but to tell my loved ones the whole story. What’s their reaction? Of course, they got mad and disappointed with you. Inasmuch as I want to wash your image with them, I can’t. I can’t because I was hurt. I was hurt because you’re inept enough to tell the world what is happening with us.

                At the end of our last conversation, I tell you I can no longer consider you a friend. Yes, I mean it! With all the disappointments and all the discouragements you brought to my life, how could I consider you as one? It is my fault to call you a friend. It is my fault to choose you a buddy. It is my fault to consider you a best friend. It is my lament to consider you a brother. It is my biggest regret to consider you a twin brother. To cope with all these faults, I choose to drop you out of my list of friends.

                It is hard, though. But I believe it is just right! I treasure all the memories we have done, all the joys and the tears we have shared, the laughter and the cries, the journeys and the adventures. I will try to hide my tears so you won’t be asked what happened after we have talked. I gave you the only item we have both not to mess things around but to show I am ready to, somehow, walk the path alone.

                To you, who give the name “Jem” to me, thank you and good bye! 

WRITTEN: 22 April 2012, 1:05AM

Climbing a Sycamore-fig Tree

Almost everyone knows very well the story of this short man who used to climb a sycamore-fig tree just to have a glimpse of the Man who is known as The Messiah. This short man, by the name of Zacchaeus, was the chief tax collector of Jericho--a city where Jesus passed through before the Passover. His story, in my belief, inspires the reader and gives hope to everyone that even a sinful, a most hated man can be saved. A story that tells Jesus loves the sinners.

However, as I read and re-read this story, God revealed and showed some insights I definitely am uncertain about the first time I understood Zacchaeus' story. 

Zacchaeus is curious about who this Man, by name of Jesus, is. Jesus is so famous that even those who didn't believe at Him knew Him and knew every miracle He did. Jesus is far more than just a miraculous man. He is God! He is not just another superhero. He is THE Savior. These are just a few about who He really is. I believe Zacchaeus knew that Jesus is more than just a man who did miracles. Yes, Zacchaeus is curious about Jesus, that is why he wanted to see Him. 

In Science, something is discovered due to curiousity. Same goes with sprituality. Once we get curious about who God is and what He can do in our life, we would discover who He really is! Curiousity drives anyone to discover something. What God wants from us is to be curious about Him, and He is more than willing to show who He really is!

Driven by curiousity, Zacchaeus had this eagerness to see Jesus. But, he's short and the crowd was overwhelming. This might discourage him, but he never surrendered his eagerness. Despite of his height and of the crowd, he looked for a way to have a glimpse of Jesus. I believe his height and the crowd represent some things in our lives. The height represents our own selves. It might be our self-esteem or pride. While the crowd represents hindrances. Hindrances like our possessions, our economical status, our image, definitely our sins. Zacchaeus learned to overcome these things in his life. What he did was to climb a sycamore-fig tree and waited silently until Jesus passed through him. 

These two things--height and crowd--exist in everyone's life. We may not be aware of it, but surely they are hindering us to seeking God. We need to overcome these things to see Jesus' glory.

What makes Zacchaeus' story more interesting is that Jesus came to him and asked him to  come down and told him He should stay at his house. I believe he is not the ONLY man who climbed that tree. What amazes me is that Jesus, personally, came to the tree where Zacchaeus was and asked him to come down. Being in a high government position, Zacchaeus silently waited to see Jesus. Definitely, the crowd is noisy the moment Jesus passed through the tree, but, still, Jesus noticed him. God knows who really wants to see Him; who really wants to know Him; who really has the heart to follow Him and He is more than willing to show them who He really is. Because Zacchaeus has it, Jesus came to the very place where he was and called him by his name.

Amazing encounter happened to Zacchaeus that moment. First, Jesus noticed him though there are a lot more people who, maybe, shouting at His name and calling forth the Name of the Lord. Second,Jesus called him by his name. Third, Jesus asked him to come down for He will stay at his house. Lastly, Jesus saved him from darkness. What a wonderful encounter, isn't it?

Touched by the Holy Spirit, Zacchaeus hurriedly came down the tree and gladly welcomed Jesus to his house. And salvation came to his house, then. This part talks about a sinner welcoming God to his house (life). This is the very key to salvation--we must open our hearts and recieve Jesus into it, and ask Him to be the Lord of our lives.

To truly walk into the salvation, Zacchaeus told Jesus he would reconcile with the people he cheated by giving half of his possessions to the poor and paying back four times the amount for those he has cheated. One Pastor I talked with told me that when you are okay with God, you are okay with people. Another preacher I heard states it this way, "Remember the cross. When you are vertically strong, you are horizontally steady." 

When God revealed these things to me, I am left with nothing but teary eyes and broken heart. He reminded me of my spiritual status and how He wants to help me fix the brokenness I have within. He told me I could be in Zacchaeus' shoes and experience the sycamore-fig tree encouter. 

All I want now is to climb my own sycamore-fig tree where I can see God's glory shine upon me. 

Awakened Sentiment

Tuesday that was when this feeling of longing for a best friend is awaken by some unexpected occurrence.

I am a tutor of at least ten different people, not to mention the group tutees I handle. Every time my tutees undergo tutelage under my supervision, I see to it that we have to talk about something that is off the course,  neither to waste their time nor to be sycophantic but to at least give them time to rest from our discussion and comprehend what has been discussed, and to build a rapport with them on a personal basis. This what I believe: an effective teacher is someone who befriends his students. I just want them to be comfortable with me not just with regard to what they have to be tutored at.

One of my tutees reminds me of someone. I have been tutoring this boy from a prestigious school for, I think, about half a year now. He is in his first year of being a high school student. He is not my regular student since he only goes to our Center every time he needs help for a particular subject. I think we have met for ten times already. The last time he went was last Tuesday.

That day was, if I may consider it, is different. I have this regard of that would be our last chance to see each other, and my last time to be his tutor. I may be teaching in a school by next school year, which,in effect, will lessen my time to spend in the center. To console my being, I bought a bag-full of chocolate,and share it with my tutees that day. He was the first. So he has the chance to eat more chocolates than the other.

Moment came, he arrived at the center, seemingly tired and sleepy from the past exams he had earlier that day. I was once a student so I know exactly how it feels when exams and deadlines are constraining the time you have left. He said he doesn't feel like studying that time. We stopped for a while and chat. He shared stories about his school; about the person we know in common; about the pen he is using and his family's US trip; about how he watch films--from what he eats to what he watches; about almost everything, except love life. (I don't know why we have not talked about it yet. Maybe because he is too young for it. I don't know.)

What is weird is that I see my best friend in him--from the outward appearance to his inner being; from the way he tells stories to the way he mimics the characters; from the way he jokes to the way he giggles at it; from the way he smiles to the way he laughs--that day. The fragile bottle where I put loneliness and longing for my best friend was broken and torn into million pieces during our conversation. If I may say it, he has remanded me behind bars of missing him. I don't accuse him of it. It is just that the dying awareness of losing a friend for some uncertain reason suddenly regains its strength to reinstate me of self accusation.

This is not my tutee's fault, it was mine. I should have become stronger than my emotion since the incident ("misunderstanding" with my best friend) happened almost half a year now. Yes, I gained strength to at least forget what happened, and to at least take the thought of having a best friend out of my mind. But it has just happened the strength I gained lost at that very moment.

When we decided to go into business again, I held back my tongue from saying he reminds me of my best friend. At the back of my mind, I say I just missed him and I need to fight this feeling and kick it out of my mind. I won.

We continued with the same routine--study, then chat; eat chocolates and laugh--until the tutelage ended. We said our goodbyes, and reminded each other of our secret not to be retold. He left the center with his mom. He nodded and smiled at me, signalling me he enjoyed our tutelage. In return, I smiled and waved at him.

Later that day, I decided to regain strength to forget about the incident of losing my best friend. I should have not just forget it but take this out of my head for good, this time.
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A Wanderer's Notes (An Introduction)

DISCLAIMER: Introductions are usually put as the first entry, but I chose to make it the second.

Someone asked me why I consider myself a wanderer when, if someone wanders, he seems to be lost. I answered, that is just a connotation of the word "wander". It never been true that everyone who wanders is lost. Yes, it might be true for some, but not for everyone. I wander because I want to witness the wonders of the Creator. I wander not because I am lost nor I am unsatisfied with what I have now. I wander because there are a lot of things yet to see, and I believe these things will help me to see how wonderful the Creator is!

Wandering is one letter away from wondering. And though they mean differently, they are somehow related to each other. When you wander, you see the wonders. And when you see the wonders, you start to wonder how these wonders were created. And, since you cannot comprehend the wondrous ways these wonders are created, you will just give praises to the marvelous hands of the Creator. This is what I always do. I wander because I want to praise the wonderful Creator.

This site is merely about the wonders of the Creator. I'll try not to write anything of my personal experiences that will not inspire the readers. I want every blog in this site be inspirational, at any point.

I hope you'd enjoy reading. God bless!

Prolonged Agony

Sometime, somehow, you might find yourself in the middle of the darkest night of your life; being left alone, having no one around to help you rise up. Eventually, even the littlest hope you had left you. Sooner than later, the least strength you had was gone. Later than it, you were all alone—alone in the middle of nowhere. All you can do was cry, cry all the tears you had left, cry all the hurts built by the tremendous circumstances that killed your hope. But, even crying did not help you. You knew you needed someone who can really help you. As you look around, there was no one.  The rain poured heavily, then.  You were all alone, experiencing every drop of the furious rain. Soon you thought you were hopeless. Soon you thought you could never pass through this. Soon you thought of killing yourself. However, something hindered you doing so.

            Hopeless you were trying to get out of your situation with every way you might think of. Helpless you were trying to get out of the pit you were drowning into, alone.  Weak you were trying to stand and rise up. However, in every attempt you did, you failed. You were doomed, you thought. You were doomed because of your selfish ambitions. You were doomed because of the mumbles in your mind.

            You wished to see a light—the littlest light that might revive the hope that was fading. A glimpse of the light you were hoping for was enough to restore your weakening spirit. “Just a glimpse…” you thought, “just a glimpse.” However, even the hope of seeing that glimpse was fading. You even did not have the strength to look for it. The rain was still pouring. It poured heavier, then. The raindrops seemed to be like the stones once thrown to you.

             You were condemned. You were condemned because of the incident you never thought would cause you to death. Your filthy deeds led you to condemnation. You thought doing these things were typical. You were wrong. You thought your friends would understand why. You were wrong. They all reviled you; even those who you thought would understand and ease the pain left you amidst of your most humiliating moments. They all despised you. They were all gone. You were all alone.  The rain started to pour down, then.

            All your good deeds were forgotten. All your good works were unable to save you from where you were.  You thought doing this thing and that would suffice your safety. Your own wisdom failed you. Now that you were all alone, you found nothing to do but to weep. Weep until your lost hope revived. But, weeping is of no help. It just added to the vanishing of your strength. You soon regretted all the moments you had wasted doing those filthy things. Soon, you were condemning yourself.

            The night was getting deeper; the rain was pouring heavier. The strength you once had been gone totally. You fell asleep.

            Even in your dream that night, you were condemning yourself. All the regretful moments were haunting you, then. You tried to run from it. Yes, you were running from it. You were running fast, as fast as you could. You run faster that you had to catch your breath. You got tired of running. You stopped, then, and noticed you were running on the same place. In every time you tried to step your foot forward, you were just standing on the very same ground. You were haunted. The bad memories were flashing before your very eyes. You tried to escape from this nightmare, but you always failed. You had no one to call upon. You only had yourself with you. The darkness that covers you became darker. You can no longer see. You cannot even breathe. You were choking.

            You suddenly opened your eyes, catching your breath. You thought you were already dead. You wished to be dead. As you looked around, your eyes captured a light. You thought you were wrong, but as you looked straight toward where the light is coming from, it was becoming brighter. The dead hope inside of you enlivened. You eventually found strength to shout and ask for help. However, you heard no voice. You shouted your lungs out just to call some attention from someone from the light. Your weak body rapidly surrendered from your activity. You lost your consciousness. The rain is still pouring. The night is becoming longer than expected.

            Hours later, when you finally recovered from unconsciousness, you felt someone is carrying you. You were hearing someone saying, “Please come home, my beloved. Come home.” You opened your eyes. You saw nothing but a silhouette of a man in a light—very bright light that can almost blind you. Moments later, the blurred image became clearer. You were recognizing who the silhouette was, then.  You are recognizing it was I. The one who is carrying you and the one who is calling you beloved was I. You, then, hugged me back. You are weeping and repenting. Forgiveness comforts you then.

            I was looking at you from afar. I really wanted to go near you and give you my hand, but you were always letting it go. You said you could pass through this on your own. From afar, as I watched you suffering, my heart was breaking into million pieces. The moment you admitted you could not do it on your own, was the same moment I ran after you. But you always ran from me. You ran because condemnation was choking you to death. You did not realize I never condemn. I only love.

            Now that you are in my arms again—my hands are holding you again—never let it go. I want you to stay, and never go astray again. You know that I love you; I really do, even before you were born. My beloved, let us go back home.