AROUND THE WORD

Today in my Stylistics class with Kim San San, Kim Soon Soon, and Kim Yan Yan (obviously not their real names), the discussion drifted to the Word of the Decade and the Word of the Year. So we googled it and, "Google" was the word of the decade (American Dialect Society, beating out "blog", and "Unfriend" is the word of the year 2009 (Oxford University Press), while "tweet" is the WOTY declared by ADS.

Google. Blog. Unfriend. Tweet. If they're words of the year/decade/day/minute, then definitions are not necessary. Personally, since I've done all four in some capacity over the past year/decade/day/minute, I'm not going to argue.

I got curious: What is the Word of the Year in the Philippines?
A couple of googles later, this is what I found:

Michael Tan of Philippine Daily Inquirer relates a text scam experience that led to his discovery of the term "bagong modus". Read the article full article here:

http://services.inquirer.net/mobile/10/01/08/html_output/xmlhtml/20100107-246107-xml.html

Is that the Pinoy Word of the Year? A term that captures the dubious Pinoy propensity for racket ("raket"), and scams? In 2007, it was "Miskol"; I believe "jueteng" and "pasaway" made it to the top of the list prior to 2007. How do people come up with these lists and choices? As far as my googling has taken me, WOTY for 2008 and 2009 have not been revealed.

Because this blog isn't meant to be scholarly, I will not even attempt to go into a discourse on societal influence on semantics. I will leave that up to the folks at Oxford, Merriam-Webster, and UP Sawikaan. Instead, I asked the 3 Kims in my class what their WOTD and WOTY are, based on their individual experiences:

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(The Three Kims!)

Kim San San :
WOTD: "cellphone"-from the words "cell" and "phone"; handy phone; cell means small particles
WOTY: "DOTA"-I don't know what's the meaning of the word, but it's a famous games that I only heard last year.

Kim Soon Soon :
WOTD: "feeler"-pretentious or feeling "exagg"
WOTY: "add"-used often in websites like friendster and facebook; instead of saying "Can you please invite me to your account so that I could keep in touch with you?"

Kim Yan Yan :
WOTD: "hang out"- "gimmick" or "peer jam" like in bars and malls; also going out
WOTY: "shawty"- American slang noun referred to as "woman", "girlfriend", "girl", widely used by Americans especially in their pop music

TEACHERS OF SUBSTANCE:LESSONS FROM ELIZABETH KOSTOVA'S THE HISTORIAN

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I closed the book The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova over a year ago with a mixture of exhilaration (what a great book!) and disappointment (what an awful ending!). I won't review the book here, so please check out my FULL BOOK REVIEW BLOG of The Historian over at www.xanga.com/millette_espiritu. More than just another book about vampires--actually The Vampire of lore, Dracula/Vlad Tepes, the novel is a testament to the nobility of the teaching profession.

My favorite character is Professor Bartholomew Rossi, a brilliant historian and quite an intellectual academic superstar in his day. Paul (as narrator in this chapter, while his daughter is his rapt audience) is his dissertation advisee, and clearly, the young graduate student has nothing but admiration for the esteemed Rossi. He was part-English, part-Italian, but the Anglo part, at least in Paul's worshipping eyes, stood out:"His face was of crisp English mold, sharp-featured and intensely blue-eyed...to look into Rossi's face was to see a world as definite and orderly as the changing of the guards at Buckingham Palace." It was Rossi's keen mind that made him the American Paul's Idol: "His mind is another thing altogether...his encyclopedic production had long since won him accolades..." But above all else, Rossi was "the kindest, warmest friend I'd ever had." I found the latter to be true in the succeeding chapters. Let me jump the gun here by saying that when Rossi mysteriously disappeared just minutes after his last visit, it was Paul who risked his life to find his mentor.

I can sympathize with Paul. I was the ultimate "sip-sip" in high school, perhaps without meaning to be one. As a student, I remember hanging onto the coattails of my teachers. To my mind, long before I drifted towards the academe myself, teachers were God's gift to humanity. To this day, I believe it to be true. After a quick rewind to my days as a fledgling learner, I've come up with my top 5 all-time favorite teachers:

1. Ms. Dulce Atienza (Grade 5 and 6 Math, Manresa School)-Ms. Atienza is a motherly, articulate teacher who made Math meaningful for me. It has since lost its meaning in high school, when the teachers resorted to terrorism to drill cosines and square roots into my system.I love Ms. Atienza for being kind but firm, and, as my section adviser in 5th grade, for being my second mother.

2. Mrs. Pearl Santos (Freshman English, Manresa School)-My Idol with a capital "I." I lived for her 12-page exams on diagraming sentences, and her stories about her days as a hard-hitting journalist. She was a perfectionist, all business at all times, and she played no favorites when my other teachers then had not-so-subtle "babies." I began to love the English language because of her.

3. Ms. Angie Ureta (Junior and Senior English & History, Manresa School)-She was 19 when she zoomed into our batch's humdrum existence in 1985, and we were enthralled by her youthful candor and world-wise sensibility. I thought back then that she picked on me out of unreasonable cruelty, but I began to realize that she was bulldozing me into finding my niche--writing. What I am now, a writer, I owe to her.

4. Prof. Emmanuel Torres (Shakespeare on Film, Ateneo de Manila Graduate School)-Firstly, I loved his class because we met every week in the Ateneo Art Gallery. Secondly, he was a non-threatening, soft-spoken, brilliant man who brought us to the Globe Theatre with just a few panoramic sentences, as well as his hard-to-find films. But I will never forget, most of all, his comments on my essays, most of which he would read aloud in class, to my utter embarrassment. For my paper on Mel Gibson's portrayal of Hamlet, he wrote: "With this paper, and others like it, you have demonstrated a potential for being a professional critic." OMG.

5.Prof. Danton Remoto (Survey of Philippine Literature, Ateneo de Manila Graduate School)-I will never again read NVM Gonzalez' The Bamboo Dancers without thinking of Prof. Remoto's acerbic comments on protagonist Ernie Rama's sexuality. Our class of 6 students was clearly in awe of this man's literary genius, and I for one, was motivated to churn out academic papers that would hopefully meet his standard, which I'm afraid I never did. But that's OK. Today, I see him fight for gay and lesbian rights on TV with much tact and poise, and I'm proud to tell one and all that Danton Remoto was my teacher.


To my delightful surprise, a former student, Maika Bernardo, wrote about me in Inquirer.net:
"Miss Millette encouraged me to write more and head the school paper staff. Her words of praise helped aspiring writers to come out of their shell. With her encouragement, I earned a leadership award on graduation day."


To view the full article, see:
http://services.inquirer.net/print/print.php?article_id=20091004-228351

I believe that teachers impart learning more effectively if they are MENTORS, not instructors. I've tried mentoring, and I can safely claim that I've done more for my students this way, rather than give them lectures thay can always download from some website. This is confirmed in The Historian, particularly in Paul and Rossi's warm, genuine friendship forged by a common love and respect for history, and for each other as human beings. And this is affirmed by the many teachers I've thanked along my life's journey, and the many students like Maika who have thanked me simply by being good, God-fearing, productive citizens of the world.

WE DON'T NEED ANOTHER READING CURRICULUM

For the second time in two years, Veritas Parochial School hosted The Gathering 2, an overnight celebration of discussing books, meeting fellow book lovers, and listening to music. The school's book clubs have decided to do this every first Friday night of December. Last year it was all about Twilight. This year, it was all about 10+ books--a veritable explosion of pages! Students discussed George Orwell's Animal Farm and 1984, and Suzanne Collins' The Hunger Games,among others, to listeners in their PJs, lounging on sleeping bags.

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Podcasts of Libba Bray's A Great and Terrible Beauty and Neil Gaiman's The Graveyard Book were broadcast. Top discussants won prizes and enthusiastic applause.

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Unbeknownst to the sleeping book lovers, I spent the night/early morning poring over reader's journals submitted to me by senior high schoolers who opted out of the book talk. The journals were a revelation, for like most journals, they chronicle the reading process meticulously, but unlike most journals, they were bursting in color, favorite passages, even a movie stills collage. Creativity to the fullest!

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All this leads me to wonder why the Department of Education can't see what's right in front of them: young people thumbing across the pages of books, discussing plot and character, making book trailers, making scrapbooks--generally enjoying the reading process. If you were a parent perusing the pages of the English curriculum, with all the macro-skills blah and the Understanding By Design-BS, you'd be afraid for your child. Could he really master all 95 reading subskills? Will not spotting the main idea outright jeopardize his job-acceptance chances? Will his teacher penalize him for not buying 3 textbooks and 3 workbooks in Language, Reading and Speech, respectively?

In my 17 years as English teacher, I can now safely assure all worried parents that the Philippine English curriculum does not decide the fate of their children. Former DepEd Undersecretary Juan Miguel Luz, speaking to Diocese of Paranaque educators in June 2009, cites an international study claiming that a literacy-rich home environment is actually the BEST INDICATOR of student success:

100 books in the house
1 computer in the house
the child's own study desk in the house

(Source: TIMSS 1998, 2003)

And by student success, we don't just look at reading, but maths and sciences as well.

In Finland, a nation that consistently tops international examinations, the teachers are not boxed in by a national curriculum; they design their lessons with their students and make adjustments when necessary. Teachers and students practice equity in the learning process.

Bottomline: invest in books, a working personal computer, internet access, a study desk, and TIME with children as they read and ask questions.

As for me and the Veritas community, we just simply enjoy books, and make them available to all. We have future projects that will put 3 brand new non-academic books in every high schooler's hands for him to keep.

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I don't need an international study to tell me the overflowing benefits of reading for my students.

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I just listen to their book talks and browse their journals, and I'm happy.

TOILET TALK

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As principal of a school with +/-500 population, I don’t get to mince words when it comes to reminding students to behave. So general assembly Mondays are always freaky, both for the guilt-ridden objects of my so-called ire, and for me. Sometimes, to keep a school running, I just had to be less than cool when I remind people about haircuts and unreturned reply slips. Discipline is a bitter pill to swallow, especially for young people who are simply testing the limits of teachers’ patience. Principalship 101 posits that I should step in when the teachers’ hairs are all frizzy and their freshly-manicured nails are all ragged, to do damage control.

So instead of giving the usual howdydo pep talk at the start of the school year 2008-2009, I decided to give a brief but succinct lecture on how to use the school’s spankin’ new toilets.

Why is that so vital? Because this is a school that has gone TWO DECADES WITHOUT RUNNING WATER AND FLUSH. So in case the students have trouble remembering what it’s like to swish-swish the toilet after every use, I had to give some pointers:

1. Flush, flush, flush, but don’t push the knob of the water closet knob to death. One gentle push is all it takes to bring down the “enemy.”

2. Don’t stuff the bowl with toilet paper and other inorganic solids (in the previous year our janitors found a ball of yarn, and some scratch papers!). Clogged toilets are the other enemy.

3. Don’t stand on the toilet seat. If it were made to be stood on, then it would have been shaped like your shoes.

There were a few snickers here and there as I intoned those reminders. I understand. But what really got them pumping their fists in the air and hollering like rallyists was when I said:

“We’ve got water from the faucets this year. Hallelujah!”

So I decided to push my luck. I went on to remind them about the newly painted lockers. I warned them that if their lockers did not remain pristine and pearly-grey by the end of the school year, there will be blood (okay, not that graphic). I pointed out that the canteen–er–cafeteria is now a queueing place, and the food is not all fried. So take heed, I said.

Then I had an inspiration. I said something like, “The changes are not just in the facilities. We expect that there will be changes in you as well, since you’re all one grade level older. You should be more mature now, more responsible. That way, the changes are really relevant.”

Do I hear applause? Is that a slap in the back? Hardly. It was a somber student body that looked back at me as I ended my little speech. I hope it was a look of reflection and realization: yeah, we’re all one grade level higher. That must mean something.

For us teachers and administrators, our words of wisdom can spell the difference between a mediocre performance and a truly stellar one. Section advisers who can level with students sans the threats and clenched fists fare better, eliciting more attention and long-term respect. As a section adviser in previous years, I would have an outline of what I want to say if I know I am about to give a sermon. I practice my piece before I deliver it. I want maximum impact. So with my little toilet talk that first hour of the school opening, I tested if indeed I made an impact: yes, thankfully, all the toilets were clean, happy places at the end of the day.

(reposted from Go Teacher Go blog, June 11,2008)

SENTI SA CENTENNIAL

Funny how the UP Centennial makes me think not of the beehive that was Palma Hall, nor the cold white floor of the Faculty Center where my friend Ria and I used to sit, waiting for an audience with one of our professors. All my happy sappy memories are of Kalayaan dorm, that haven for freshmen plucked from every region of the country you can think of. I remember bitching about the food, and gagging at stories about the fish eating Dona Paz victims, and us eating the fish. I remember filling my dorm room walls with magazine cutouts of my males of the month (yet I don't remember who they are now). I remember Ely Buendia, pre-Eraserheads, sitting alone in the cafeteria, and teaming up with the St. Scho girls for the all-freshmen volleyball team. I remember swapping Loveswepts and Candelight romances with Shy and Rahnee, boarding Recto-bound jeepneys to get to second-hand book stalls, which would promptly fold up at the hint of a raid.I remember waking up one morning to a loud radio broadcast of a coup d' etat, which, until that day, I only read about in history books. I was on the first floor--Room 105--and the whole dorm was abuzz with coup news. Our first concern was, "May pasok kaya?" We then gathered that there were government troops storming Philcoa, a jeepride away from Kalayaan. Someone was warning us: "If you have subversive materials, tear them up or hide them!" I thought about my Loveswepts, dismissing them as non-subversive. I remember our Residence Assistant advising us to stay inside the dorm, but somehow, Rahnee and I were able to slip out to the Shopping Center at the back of Kalayaan. We were hoarding supplies--peanut cakes, sanitary napkins, Coke-in-cans. There was no telling how long we were going to be holed up in the dorm. When we got back, my daddy was there, waiting to bring me home. A group of dormers gathered around us as we got ready to leave. But the dorm admin did not allow anyone to leave unless parents themseves came to fetch them. My dad was the first one there, and I was the first to leave.I hated leaving my friends behind. Daddy explained that it would be irresponsible for him to take them without the knowledge of their parents. I waved goodbye, guilty and bothered. I was rather amused by his mode of transportation: a white cargo vehicle with the single word PRESS in big bold red letters, PRESS as in PRINTING PRESS, not Inquirer or anything. But I figured those flashing red letters did the trick. We were not bothered by anyone from any armored personnel carrier as we sped our way home.
I spent four years in UP, but that one semester in Kalayaan--my first 6 months alone in a big school--is the most vivid. After that sem, I was able to brave the endless lines of registration, my first great heartbreak, my 2.75 in Math.

Happy Centennial, UP kong mahal!