My Home

One of my beloved song is taken from the musical The Wiz and it talks about the desire of Dorothy to go back home. Clicking the heels of her shoes, she started singing the song "Home".

When I find myself sad, I often reminisce the happy days of being home, of chit chatting with my parents, of my short mall visits and eating outs with my siblings. After a day's gone, I retreat to my place which had been my "special" home.

My living room is a room filled with great memorabilia and presents from all over the world. Gathered from my few travels but collected mostly as presents from friends and students, the living room becomes a literal example of a living museum. Paintings from Vietnam, India, France and the Netherlands adorn the walls while trinkets and decors from Nepal, Myanmar and the Philippines are some of the many that grace the walls and shelves.

The bedroom facade has been a rather unused space that I then decided to use for meditation as the light itself gives an amber glow to the altar that guards the entrances. During Christmas season, three metal trees are displayed that reminds me of the shining beacon of hope and grace.

The main bedroom is typical Asian in design. The custom built bed is according to my specifications. The Indian wall hanger is a reminder of my friends' visit to Thailand while the beautiful handwoven bed cover gives out colours to the rather subdued hue of the furniture. A small painting done by a French artist friend and a native lamp given by friends from Thailand are displayed on a side table.

The smaller bedroom is decorated with things Chinese and most prominent are two paper cuts from my travels to Inner Mongolia and Mainland China. The Ikea lamp is a gift from a good friend in Malaysia and one non-working clock is a small gift I got for representing a group of children and winning a dance competition. The bed is covered with a golden silk cloth typical of wealthy houses in olden Thailand.

My small but memory filled home is a shining reminder of my life as a teacher, as a friend, as a student and as a hard-working individual. To take them away simply means taking away the purpose of my existence. Though very material, they are the living reminder of what I was and what I became of.

Insecurities

Insecurities are part of growing. We could be out of it after a while or it could grow to be part of us. Insecurities come in many shapes. It could be mental, physical, emotional, or social. It could be gradual, sudden, or just lurking behind waiting to surface.



I am insecure in many things. The cause could be anything I didn't get when I was growing or something I didn't inherit from good genes. The cause might be triggered by something small or something great. It might had happened suddenly or I stumbled upon it in layers.



I don't consider myself good looking which is not really a big deal because I am not a ramp model. I starred in some stage productions but it was pure talent that brought me to the limelight. I was praised for my acting, serious or funny, and that was enough to bring accolades to my ears. I acted as an emcee in various events yet it wasn't the beauty of the face that I gave as a collateral but the persona in me, the ability to face a crowd and be natural.



I don't consider myself a genius which is not a problem because I don't intend be labelled nerdy (which I was tagged when I was in high school) or be a social outcast. In my years of study, I managed to be in the honour roll and consider myself bright when I finished three different areas of studies with flying colours. I was often asked by my professors to double a task when everyone were just given one. When they do a chapter of a book, mine was the entirety of the reading material. I was always challenged for they put their faith on me. They recognized my potentials and I did my job well.



The insecurity I feel stems up from the outside world, the harsh reality of being brown. It's about colour and the demeaning comments upon my race rather than what I can bring to the table. I may not talk with a native English twang (of which I could easily do) or in convoluted sentences with unfamiliar words. I simply speak clear and deliver a well-caring attitude towards my vocation as a teacher. I am not presenting a colour but rather a person, a great teacher, a well-rounded individual. As one of the parents said, "I see not your colour but you as a teacher, a wonderful one indeed!"



Insecurities eat us up and destroy us, only if you let it ruin your day or your life. Rising from the battered words of unbelievers; I, on my own terms, show the opposite of what they throw to me. I give them high spirits. Lifting myself from the battleground of unnecessary comments, I even fight through, and show my unwavering faith to myself. Then as insecurities die down, or laid upon the corners, a new day unfolds. Just as the heavy rain battered the morning with thunder and lightning, it will come to a stop, and then a day begins anew.



So believe and live a beautiful life.

My Former School, A Revisit 2

Through the years. I had ups and downs in this school ranging from misunderstandings, jealousy, rumours, hatred as well as friendships, support, and lots of encouragement. Every year was different. My greatest fans were the Finnish people as they believed in what I could do.

While working in this school, I was approached by a lady/owner of another preschool and she asked me if I would be interested to help her set up a new school right where my school was located. It was a good offer but my loyalty and dedication to my school lingered and I just couldn't leave and betray (in a way), my former principal who placed her faith on me.

The last year. I was approached by a couple from the States and questioned my loyalty to the school and as to what were the reasons I stayed for so long. It was a long list. The people at my school were so good to me but it was a matter of learning new things. Though I listened to the couple, it was my decision to leave and start anew in another preschool. I gave my resignation with a heavy heart and bade farewell to the people who stood with me for almost ten years. It was heartbreaking!

Wrapping up. RMA made me a person and all the years I stayed in there were never to be thought of as regrets. They were priceless memories and constant growth. The experience gave me a chance to prove myself as a great educator while also making myself humble as to my beginnings. I will never forget the people of RMA ( Rosemarie, Wanchai, Chalida, Wisa, Chada, May, Lourdes, and others) as I owe them a lot.

Fond memories.

"We saw you as a teacher and not from your colour." - the Reck's

"I didn't believe you at first but now I promised my son to give you a hug for being the best teacher for him." - the Espo's

"Ask for Jonathan, he is the best in that school." - the Baade's

"Thank you for being a great teacher to my son." - the Agathageledis'

"My son will miss you so much." - the Panichnantakul's

"I don't know how you did it but my daughter is just so different in a very positive way." - the Vansumsen's

"We like you to teach all of our children." - the Kitcharoenwong's

"My child just talk about you, all the time!" - the Pitts'

"My daughter will always remember you for teaching her how to write her name." - the Kaga's

Steps

First little steps

as we hold on

with little grips of fingers

on your smooth caring hand.



Then moving on

to fall or not

determined to walk

on our own



Those tiny steps

became big ones

from walking off to run

but still off balance



Steady steps became

more of a stride

just with watchful eyes

no arms to longer catch



As we grow, we move

we decide, we took flight

our little steps no more

on our own we fly



We fall, we rise

we stood unabated

we searched, we found

our steps then mastered



With these steps

there will always be

someone walking along side

our destiny



Her hands to hold

when we started our steps

Now her hands to hold

for showing us the way.



To my mom and with

each step of my way

I simply am grateful

for what I am today.

past tenses

zest in life ended

when tribulations emerged

the will to live ceased

the smile withered

worry and stress shouldered

thy heavy load carried

of lost and death faced

hopes all shattered

thy life so soon belittled

nothing becomes highlighted

to thy being attached

meaningless air breathed

aplenty of tears cried

some brave courage mustered

pieces of hope picked

spirits in a way renewed

the time I long waited

to give thy life blessed

of heaven glorified

of spoken voice listened.

My Former School, A Revisit

This May, I am writing history so as to remember things that happened in the past. Later in life, I will be going back to read them as a reminder of myself as a teacher.

At RMA -

The beginning. I was offered to start up a small preschool in a village which has a good concentration of expat children. It was tough as the school building was a townhouse that was rented for school's purpose. I started with three preschool aged children from different countries: America (Kyla), Brunei (Jeff), and Hong Kong (Wai Ming). They were of different ages. I was assisted by a Vietnamese-American named Margaret and sometimes her two wonderful children would join in my class. Later, I got two brothers from Switzerland (Lukas and Jan). During the start of the second term, I got two more students from Korea (Min Jee and Tewook), one from Switzerland (Shane), and another one from Japan (Keiko). I was then dutifully assisted by a Canadian (Marie R.) and an American (Debbie S.).

It was a great beginning considering that the school's premises were limited. I fondly remember even meeting the children and their moms after school at the pool of the apartment where I resided. In the afternoon, we gathered together and I taught some of them to swim and we played a lot. It was bonding time for a whole year. It was a wonderful experience.

Growing within the years. Then we moved to a bigger place where the Child Centre as it is now called grew into seven different classrooms. I remembered being the head where we had an enrollment of 120 preschool children with a staff of 19 adults. It was an experience I would not forget. Being a head entailed responsibilities and they were maddening. The experience though made me a better leader and took me to new heights until I begged off when I pursued further studies.

The enrollment dwindled through the years but I still had the most number of students in class, always full as in every year. During my last post, I was assisted by a Filipino (Aida) who became the lead teacher when I left the school for good. My almost ten years stay at that school had been treasure trove of memories, experiences, hardships and glory. My growth as a person went full cycle as I learned the rudiments of administration, the struggles of a beginning teacher, the success of an experienced teacher, and the emotional strength I had to build throughout the journey.