Being Different

Honk Junior, the Musical

I was privileged to be invited by a former student to see the musical production of Honk, based on the story of the Ugly Duckling. Though busy with my schedule, I took some time off so that I can give support to the main lead, played by my former student.

This little boy, who is now in fifth grade, was in my class when he was four years of age. I was very excited to hear and be in attendance to his school production and learning that there were also three former students of mine performing.

When he was doing his solo singing and acting at the same time, I managed to hold my tears as they were swelling up. This little boy reminds me of myself and his song, I'm Just Different, struck me without warning.

I'm Just Different

But I have a sense of pride

My looks may well be funny

But it hurts the same inside

Different isn't spiteful,

different isn't wrong

So why is it so hard to get along

I only want to get along.

Whilst being tagged a weird one when he was growing, what with his fascination with things round, he grew up to be an exemplary one. Right now, he is doing scientific notations and factorizations in mathematics when I go to his house for an hour (I teach him Math). Recently, he finished his lessons in web design and started making his own computer games while synchronizing a game he is playing with four other accounts without any assistance. he is creative and can draw intricate pictures from memory and from imagination. He is very kind to everyone and majority gave him positive feedbacks during their valentine activity in the classroom. He is not weird, different perhaps, but who isn't?

Just like the Ugly Duckling, nicknamed Ugly, I grew up perturbed by the comments I hear around but they made me stronger as I battle once again prejudice, racism and favoritism. I will not succumb to be with and along with the crowd, I should stand out and be proud. I am no longer the Ugly, though still not beautiful or handsome, but ever thankful for all my blessings. My being different gave me an edge.

Different isn't hateful

Different could be swell

Different is just well...

Different.

The End

In his daily prayers he only asked for someone to love him in return. His first encounter with love was through a personal advert. It was very exciting to read the post and then he just realized he was already mailing a short letter of introduction. Days passed and he was very ecstatic as to whether he will get a reply or not. Then after a few days, it came. Holding on to the envelope as if a treasured gift, he immediately tore the flap and ran into his room. While reading the short note, he felt giddy, like a teenager ready for his first puppy love. 

It was the first time in his life that somebody wanted to see him after all. Thinking that someone was interested to what he had to offer. With two or three more letters and some phone calls afterwards, he agreed for a meet. The morning was the longest ever as he had mixed emotions whether to show up or not. It was the lack of self-confidence. Since he was frail looking and bony, the only good thing he saw in himself was his sincerity, if not for friendship but for love. 

He was dressed to impress, not for wealth since he had none, but to look decent and interesting. Afraid of being late, he left the house an hour earlier than the expected meet. The heat of the afternoon sun and the warm breeze  bothered him not a bit. It was the passing time that was killing him as it gets shorter and shorter. The constant glances to his unbranded watch as if time stopped. Then...

An image he had pictured in his mind came into view, then into focus as his eyes were only to a certain direction. He offered a smile and then small conversations. The other, just a nod, and looking uneasy. For him, he wasn't feeling good seeing the reaction, an innate instinct in him was telling him that something was wrong. It was probably the gaps between one liner to another or the eerie silence when no one can ask anything anymore. Then the question of whether he arrived by car or by foot. Asking him if he had his personal car or not. His face fell since the only thing he was holding at that time was his hope. His hope to stay afloat and strong. His hope to be liked, or be accepted. He had nothing, material wise, and it was all that were questioned.

A few more minutes, they parted ways for no good reasons. It was so business like, upon seeing the merchandise, either buy it or not. He was left standing at the corner of a busy street, looking gloom, feeling rejected, being lost in words, and most of all, believed that he was a nobody. He had no idea how he went back home. All he remembered were the unending days of sadness and tears that flooded his bed. He felt devastated, and just because of one meet.

He went with his life the usual way: attending school, working part time, and being alone in the confines of his small room. He left the world of merry making and meeting friends. His rejection became his crown of thorns. He kept on saying and believing that there will be no love for him because of his looks, his stature in life, and his personality. It was months of agonizing pain, without anybody knowing of what transpired, as he kept them to himself the whole time. 

The longing to belong and be accepted became so much of a goal that for every small endeavours, his expectations run high, and eventually great sorrows were felt for every rejections or cold shoulder. It was gruelling for him to live. It was always a question of why's and when's. The circle went on and on even when he tried to be better, not for those things he cannot be, but in other aspects. It was a lost battle. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time, meeting the wrong people.

One day while walking through a deserted park as it was high noon, he decided to sit down on a bench facing the calm water. Reflecting his life for every minute movement, all he saw were the faces of those people who gave him so much pain. The trees, as if frozen in time, gave an eerie feeling to his haunting presence. The leaves that scattered along the concrete path were dry and rust brown in colour, like each passing days of his life. 

Gazing through the still water, he stood up, unmindful of the rustles created by walking barefoot. He looked up as if mumbling something to the sky and bowed down. The water, inviting, then a dive. Unmindful of the coldness, his body surrendered. No more fights, no more struggles, with his last breathe, a final goodbye, it is the end.

In silence I live. In silence I die.

Getting To Know You 2

If you don't sit down, I'll kiss you! 

Discussing about the winter break:

Teacher: Do you think it is cold in Bangkok?

Student: No, but Spain was.

Teacher: Ah, which part of Spain did you go?

Student: Singapore!

Asking a student who's new in class:

Teacher: May I know where you came from?

Student: From my mommy's tummy.

Talking about manners:

Teacher: Can you please do your work?

Student A: WHAT!?

Student B: That's not polite, you have to say pardon me.

Teacher 2: What?

Teacher 1: She just said, it is not polite to say what, say pardon me.

Student C: Pardon me WHAT!?

Overheard children talking:

Student A: I'm on the table. (with an Australian accent)

Student B: Teacher, he said he is from Thailand.

Teacher: Are you sure? But he is from Australia.

Student B: No, he said, I am a Thaiboy.

Discussing pertinent items regarding our project work:

Teacher: When will the police officer let go of the bad guy from jail?

Student: When he dies.

Teacher: Why?

Student: So he cannot run away!

One Rainy Afternoon

The weather had been very troublesome. On days that are colder, I pick up a sweater to wear on my motorbike ride and also in school. Then gloomy weather prevails in the afternoon with sudden gush of wind and the torrential rain. One afternoon, I was soaked when I reached my student's house.

I do arrive late in the evening and I do my usual chores of watering the garden, washing the dishes or putting my clothes in the washing machine. It is an ongoing routine and because I am tired most of the time, I become unmindful of some things that's happening in my house, especially the garden.

The day that rained incessantly for some hours, I was more negative in my perspective rather than thanking one night of off duty to water the garden. Instead, I was mumbling and cursing for being wet, bags and all, while letting my things dry using a hair dryer.

When morning came and I went out to wait for my ride, it humbled me upon seeing the work of nature so majestic and beautiful. I was in awe. I was humbled by nature's generosity and the plants never ending way of sharing their flowers and bounty. My cursing merit an apology to the rain because I only saw its downside rather than its blessings.

Rain if you may

Not less than a spot

Not much of a storm

Just simply enough.

Grant me some rain

as blessings from above

To water the plants

And send me some love.

For thy tiny creatures

some beauty behold

With your presence

A hundredfold.

Like shower of bliss

I therefore send

My apologies

To rain I make amends.

Turning Old

Turning old :)

I received a forwarded e-mail from a good friend about living graciously at an older age, 50 years and above which was  a translation from a Chinese manuscript. After reading the well-written thoughts, I decided to make a reflection on where I stand at this time. Though I still need more years before I push fifty, the words of wisdom enumerated will not be just reminders but also mantras for the coming years.

50-year old like you, don't trade in your health for wealth by working yourself to an early grave because your money may not be able to buy your health.

 I vowed to myself that I would stop working before the age of 50. I vowed that I will be keeping money and investing them in some worthwhile things so as not to compromise my health and well-being. I have seen many people still working at a very old age, enjoying nothing and being in stress all the time.  I wanted to do three things later in life: write books, paint more and do sustainable gardening. 

So, as long as you have enough food and enough money to spend, that is good enough. You should live happily. Every family has its own problems. Just do not compare with others for fame and social status and see whose children are doing better, etc., but challenge others for happiness, health, enjoyment, quality of life and longevity.

To live happy is the goal of each one of us but how to reach that goal? Start small, smile at the beginning of the day. Say a simple prayer. Look around for things to appreciate. I see the smile from the driver who picks me up everyday. I enjoy the camaraderie I get from my students. The laughter of the children makes me happy. Small notes and messages give me a smile. I wanted to be happy and getting small things in every small moment are enough to brighten each and every day. 

Above all, learn to cherish the goodness around... and FRIENDS... They all make you feel young and "wanted"... without them you are surely to feel lost!!

I am not talking about having hundreds of friends in your Facebook page. How many of them actually read your shout outs, or writes you a personal note, or simply visits your page because they care for you. I long for those old friends of mine where we get stuck in elevators, walked in flooded streets, shared one doughnut because we had no more money, or sat down on street pavements talking till the wee hours of the morning. I still have some of them, and kept the best. The memories alone make me feel young. 

(My birthday just passed and what did I do? I celebrated with my students in the morning, skipped school in the afternoon, had lunch with a good friend, went to the temple for offerings, then to a church for grace.)