Education at its best

My daughter's last semester's report had put my daughter in conflict. She has always wanted to go to a particular high school. Mainly because she has one of her friends going while she was assigned to another. She begged and reasoned with us to request the school board to change the school assignment.

After going through the ordeal of filling out the form and informing her that it may depend on her grades, the school board agreed. My daughter's excitement reminded me of what I could have been if I had been as diligent as I wanted to be. As I have written in previous blogs, I could have pressed on with my educational endeavor, but with the stress and pressure from the environment at home, the drive to pursue independent happiness wasn't there.

The programs provided by the aforementioned magnet high school, are inspiring. I wish I had these programs when I was at school. My drive to learn Astronomy, Graphic design, Creative writing, and Robotics would have been a great deal. I wouldn't have been depressed completing my homework. I'm really proud of my daughter for selecting the subjects she knows she can excel in. She has come a long way in getting where she is now. I don't nag her as often as I should. It's not to say I have never procrastinated before. I have my reasons. She's old enough to understand her responsibilities. We've emphasized why she only has little to none of the chores to do at home. We really want her to get the best grades she can to earn a scholarship.

Even though there are stories of successful celebrities dropping out of high school or college, education is still fundamental. It's not the diploma which breaks the ice in landing a job. It's the knowledge and affluence you bring to the table. The big corporations are looking for people who can do the job without protests yet be able to assert themselves to get to the corporate ladder. Sadly, I'm one of the people who can only get so far ahead. I have realized that customer service is not a main focus of most established corporations. The few companies that do are small and/or family owned businesses. Although there are businesses, established 50 years ago which still cater exemplary customer service. I'm lucky to work in a company that still focus on striving for good customer service. There are meetings every morning where our management team express gratitude towards our exemplary customer service. Despite the astronomical sales goals and creating new credit applications for the week, the drive to be the top store with the best customer service rating must be top priority.

My daughter told me that she wants to join the Army JROTC. I told her what to expect if she were to do so. I have my confidence in her. I just don't want her to be disappointed with her decisions to a point where she's going to gloom over it for the rest of her life. Depression has come full circle in my family. I'm hoping it's not the case with my daughter. When I was her age, I've always wanted to go somewhere far from home. Enlisting in the military was what I sought to do. After I realize what the military had to offer, I went for it because I know I had a chance to become my own person. I have not regretted the decision since then.

If and when she decides to enlist in the military, I'm not going to deny her independence. I just hope she is aware of the expectations the military has as an enlistee. Military jargon or not, enlistees are expected to think for themselves, follow instructions, have good judgments for the benefit of the squadron, strive to work hard to succeed and sacrifice time, effort and self-worth for the good of the country. If I could go back to the military, I would do so in a heartbeat. After my injury, I was deemed liable and unfit for military duty. I thank God everyday that my injury was a blessing. I would have been stuck in a war zone not knowing if I'd return alive to see my daughter where she is today. I'm praying everyday for the young man who took my slot, to be able to come home safe and sound to his own family. Maybe have a family of his own, and possibly grow old knowing a life of peace and happiness.

She's still young and has so much to learn. I'm hoping that she will soon realize that the world out there has more to offer her than what she believes. I'm still learning. Every passing day, new discoveries and fabled theories get thrown out the window. Who knows what else the past has hidden? Who's to say what we already know was not what it actually seemed?

It doesn't matter how old you are. Keep learning. Ask questions. Expand your knowledge. Explore the ends of the Earth if you must, but don't be an ass about it. The more you know, the more enlightened you'll be. You'll never have to delude yourself from the fascism of hatred, ignorance and prudence of others.

The wondering years

The milestone of adolescence to becoming a young adult varies across every single individual. My daughter, for one will be 13 soon this coming spring. I should be worried like any parent would. However, I have decided that until I get to that point, I will not worry about it. When that time comes, I will have to choose which battle to fight.

For the moment, I will reflect on my own milestone. Honestly, becoming a teenager was not something I was eager to become. My reason for dreading the milestone was mainly because of the influence my mother has enforced on me, regarding my self-image. An image I have to portray, which is to be the utmost perfect lady. I had to carry my head up high, strut with class and to speak eloquently with poise and prudence. Evidently, even with good intentions, my mother extended this expectation with brutal criticism and harsh discipline. For a good solid moment when all your trust with the one person you held so dear, becomes your nightmare. I had often wondered as a teenager, what it would be like to be an adult and if it would change the way my parents thought about me.

By the time I was 14, I had no choice but to tell my mother, that if she were to strike me again, I will make sure someone will get hurt and that it wouldn’t be me. The breaking point had its limit. I was done with her telling me how ugly and unsophisticated I was to her and how much I reminded her of her “monster” of a husband. Honestly, this wasn’t the worst part of my life.

When I was 16, I was sent back to the Philippines. There was a typhoon that hit Los Baños, Laguna. I got sick with food poisoning and did not even realize it until an OBGYN had to point it out to the doctor who was suppose to be helping me get better. This doctor thought my parents were making millions, since Brunei is well-known for its riches in natural oil and gas. A doctor in a small province, really doesn’t make much at all. So, enabling me to be sick, this doctor believed he would rake himself some money by keeping me at the hospital. It should have been an easy treatment of ‘get rid of bacteria in digestive system’ for a week rather than three.

Instead of being worried about me, my parents were infuriated with my actions since I had gone to a different restaurant from where I was supposed to dine at. Regardless of the matter, whether I had waited to dine at the designated restaurant, the whole area had no power. Another factor to consider, we were not allowed to cook at the dormitory. The aforementioned restaurant did not own a power generator. They had to borrow it from somewhere else. So, by the time they had found one to open shop, I had 2 hours left into my curfew since I had been looking for a place to eat. It was a long walk back to the campus dormitory since the Jeepneys were not able to drive in the flood.

The aggravation was intense while I was using the hospital courtesy phone. I retorted back to them, “Then, you would rather have me starve to death?” The response was, “If there had been no other choice, you should have stayed home and eaten some bread.” It was very convenient of my mother to personally ask the owner of that restaurant if they were open that day not realizing the situation at that time. Of course, they were going to say they had not seen me come in because they were closed when I had arrived there. It was just the sheer inconsideration on my parents’ part for not understanding what happened when the typhoon struck Luzon.

The emotional break down from that moment became the worst part of my life. The acknowledgement in which my parents had given me, made me feel that I was worth nothing more than a piece of bread. Yes, I understand that this was my teenage angst. I was depressed then, not realizing how much of what I have expected from my parents merely was an ideal. An ideal parent would have taken measures to fly to Philippines, talk to the doctor, or something to show that I meant the world to them. A loaf of bread is not enough to keep one’s starvation level satisfied, especially after a flood. There had been no power for 2 consecutive months. The concept alone trying to understand why my parents were angry at me for being sick was too much for me. I was so angry at that time, I wanted to kill myself. Just as soon as I was about to cut myself, my roommate’s boyfriend walked in. He noticed what I was doing and asked me, “Why?”

I told him the burdens and expectations my parents have given me were too much for me to handle. I told him that I was nothing more than an image to them - an icon of an ideal successful eldest child. I explained to him that I was a failure to them and was more of a burden than being a poster child you see in Parent Magazine. He just blinked at me, gave me a hug and told me I was worth more than that. He told me I had so much to live for. He said, “I know this may sound selfish, but YOU have to live for yourself. It is YOU who will live your own life. If not for you, live for God. I may not be a devout Catholic, but I know what is right in my heart. If you let God guide you, YOU will be happy.”

From that moment, the worst part of my life became my best. When the day it was my godparents’ turn to pick me up for the weekend, I asked them what it meant to be a family. As soon as I asked, they invited me to join them to their church’s family camp. This has been my personal testimony on how I became a born-again Christian. I have never regretted that moment.

I know my daughter will never understand what I had gone through as a teenager. Needless to say, I have prepared her for what to expect. As far as introducing her into Christianity, I only told her what she needed to know and made her aware that I have delved into other religions long before she was born. She is more than welcome to do her own research about them. I was giving her this opportunity to learn about other religions because it would allow her to better understand where people are coming from. I had no great intentions of converting her into some auspicious religion that may not even lead her life to euphoria or benefit her spiritual journey. If I had in fact indoctrinated her, she would not know any better. With that being said, my actions would have basically made her lose all meaning of the phrase, “finding oneself in life”.

I was 19 when I had my first boyfriend. Sure, I had some crushes and courters in high school. My mother’s constant badgering about my academics allowed me not to take the courtship ritual seriously. My boyfriend at that time was still taking his GCE ‘A’ Levels while I had taken a career path in Computers and Information Systems. Everything was going well, until my mother gave the news that we had to immigrate to the U.S. My depression and aggression ensued.

I took it upon myself to find my destiny. I enlisted in the military since my parents have not established themselves financially well when we arrived in California. I know I swore to abstain from sex while in military training and to wait until I finally get my degree in Computer Information Systems and Security.

I was enjoying the notion of reuniting with my boyfriend from our long distance relationship after I had accomplished all that I had planned. I didn’t become sexually active until I turned 21. I had my one and only daughter at 22. I was in tears when I gave my boyfriend the news, but he was too far away to do anything about it. He was kind enough to let go of the relationship.

Considering how far I had come from where I began, I am proud of myself for accomplishing what most teenagers dread to face: responsibility. I know several of my friends from the U.S. who got pregnant too early, have gone through more than what they’ve bargained for. I give them kudos for sticking with it (taking full responsibility of their actions) and not allowing themselves to be mocked on national TV as you see on the Maury Show, Dr. Phil or Teen Mom.

My husband is fully confident our daughter has a good head on her shoulders. We will burn that bridge when we get there. The final conclusion regarding becoming an adult with an elderly parent: the only person who changed was ME.

The violent streak

It hasn't been a year yet, but considering the fact that this incident has only happened once, I'll have to let this one go. Nevertheless, she should have known better than to hit another student with a water bottle right on the noggin.
The most disconcerting thing is, her reason for doing so. The student who allegedly offended her, had made rude comments about my drawing.
I had to explain to her that this particular drawing was just a rough sketch. Most rough sketches are going to look crappy. Most artist know this. My husband did most of the talking because my daughter believes that my art sketches are immaculate. As much as I love my daughter, I couldn't bring myself to shatter her emulation of becoming an artist like me.
The only thing that I recall when I was younger, was when a boy had overstepped his boundaries after several warnings. He was 12; I was 10. The incident happened at a Christian family's home. The adults were in the living room having their Bible study, while the children were in another room, supervised by two young adults. So, this boy started to haress my sister. Considering the elder sister I had to be, I butted in. I must have provoked his pride because he started insulting how stupid and weak girls were. With that being said, I asked him how he got to that conclusion. He based it off of his experience with his younger sister. I told him not all girls are the same. By this time, my sister told me to leave the argument. So, I told him to leave my sister alone; otherwise face the consequences. He laughed and boasted to his friends that empty threats are what girls are good at. I told him to stop where he's at and to leave me be otherwise I would have to make him pay.</p> I left with my sister to the other side of the room, but was confronted with a discerning question as to why I even bothered with the boy. I told her it was my duty to save my angel. She frowned and begged me to stop calling her that. Just when I thought the situation was over and done with, the boy returned by asking me how I would make him pay if he didn't leave me alone.
"Don't," my sister exclaimed.
"I will beat you on the head," I retorted back to the boy and walked away towards center of the room.
"Just ignore him," my sister urged.
"You don't think I'm not?" I asked in great irritation since the boy kept following us whilst throwing insults and taunts. Whatever happened to the two young adults was beyond me. All I knew then, was this boy would not stop until I did something. I yelled at him to leave me alone. He laughed and jeered, "Now you sound like my stupid little sister."
Aggravated, by what he said, I grabbed him by the collar and pushed him. "Last warning! Leave me alone. You should be old enough to know better." He laughed and walked towards his friend who was now sitting by the wall where the air conditioner was located. He shouted back at me, "See, I told him you were too stupid to do anything."
I was infuriated. I ran towards him, pushed him against the wall, grabbed him by collar and shook him vigorously over again against the wall. My sister screamed, "Stop! He's bleeding!"
I stopped. Sure enough, this 12-year old boy was crying and bleeding. As for me, I was shaking in my bones and trying to make sense of what had happened. It didn't occur to me at that time, but it was to a point in my life, I realized what anger actually was.
If my sister hadn't stop me, he would have died from brain hemorrhage. He had to get 35 stitches on his head. That fact alone, was enough to traumatize a 10 year old. At least, he stopped pestering his little sister. He definitely learned more than a good lesson. He never bothered me again.
If my genetics were the root of the violent streak, sure I'll buy the stereotype. I've always tried to be pleasant with everyone I meet as much as possible. Whatever she was feeling at that time, may have been justified. Nevertheless, she has been lectured many times before about appropriate behavior when it comes to being bullied, insulted or pressured into something that would lead her into trouble. We constantly remind her that she's in the age now where the government can lock her away as a juvenile delinquent. Whatever notion she has in her mind, she needs to realize that testing that very boundary would be a very bad idea.