The Three-Point Lecture: Bringing Magis into the PSHS

Delivered to students of the Ateneo Manila High School for KLIK 2010. The actual speech I gave was a condensed version of what follows. It was a challenging speech to deliver and one thing I took away is that an Ateneo crowd is very different from a Pisay one; apparently, I’ve been in Pisay for too long now.

Before I begin, I’d like to make a preface or two.

First, this turned out to be a surprisingly tricky talk to write. I’ve spoken to principals, teachers old and new, and this has been by far the most challenging one to prepare. And the question for me hasn’t been about where to begin – it’s about what the heck do I talk about at all. I can imagine that listening to another teacher talk for your alternative class day isn’t the most thrilling idea in the world. Neither am I prepared to be that guy who will reveal all our teaching tips, tricks, and secrets to students – though that would be an interesting talk indeed.

Second preface. But as I reflect on my breezy and effortless acceptance of the invitation to speak here today, I realize that this talk shouldn’t be difficult at all. In many ways, it is like coming home. It was 1996. I was a 13-year old high school student attending his own KLIK – just like you. I listened to a career talk on lawyering and I found it pretty good. That’s how I ended up with a Political Science degree, though I clearly ended up as something else. Therefore, this talk isn’t some call to arms. Our country needs more and better teachers, yes, but this isn’t going to be a career talk.

Thus, what to expect this morning? Given now that I’m not dispelling the secrets of the dark arts, or that I’m not rallying you to choose a certain career path, what do I hope to achieve? I’m told that the theme of this year’s KLIK is Balik-bayan and that these sessions should make you think a little deeper about how you can give back to society. That’s precisely what I intend to do today. Perhaps, my talk will make you see your teachers a little differently. That would be nice. But the most I’m hoping for is that you get to see yourselves a little differently too.

The title of my talk is very simple – The Three-Point Lecture. It’s up to you whether to take it literally or figuratively, but if you ask me it doesn’t really leave much to the imagination. I’m keeping it simple. There are no conjectures, postulates, and theories to consider today. I’ll keep the statistics, the formal studies, and the intellectual giants at bay. Just three points to remember. But behind each point is a little story. So let’s begin.

First off, I’d like to get a feel of the room. How many here are in first year? In second year (that’s the level I teach, by the way)? Where are the juniors? Finally how about the seniors?

Let me talk to the seniors for a bit. You guys are graduating in a few months. I don’t know if you’ve heard of this bug that’s been going around. Symptoms include anxiety over the future, regret over all the time you’ve lost in the past four years, and the unstoppable urge to just get things over and done with. I’ve heard it called senioritis. At once it was called the senior syndrome.

We had a case of this about two weeks back. It was the week before exams (which we had last week so we’re on break now) and something broke out in Facebook – yes, apparently that is where everything happens now. A student wrote a note that spread through the community pretty quickly. Everyone who saw it liked it, and the author received tons of comments. After all, when you’re one of the most popular and most well-respected students in campus, and you write an apology to the school, you’re bound to get attention.

But this is nothing controversial, mind you. She just happened to echo exactly what all the other seniors felt at the time, and she was able to say it in a way that inspired everyone to persevere and endure their last few months as seniors. What was she sorry about? That despite her best effort and her most noble intentions, she felt that she wasn’t good enough for the school. She felt defeated, tired, and that the pursuit of excellence was becoming a prayer she could no longer answer. She concluded that perhaps, she won’t be the scholar that the school wanted. But she redeemed herself by saying that what she learned goes beyond what the system has dictated she must learn. She may not be the best at calculus, she confessed, but she has had more than her fair share of honest math. She has been a person of honor, of passion, of effort, and of cause. She may not be a scientist, she thinks, but she has become something more.

I was one of the people she tagged in her initial note.

By the time I got around to reading it, it was already flooded with comments and there were exchanges about whether she is being too idealistic or not. They argue that eventually, she will have to measure up somewhere if she ever wants to be something in this world. I didn’t want to join in the debate. I stepped back and I wrote my own note too.

“An Apology to Our Students” the note went. Because I feel that whenever a student feels defeated or lost, teachers are partly to blame. But I thought about this for a while. What could I apologize for exactly?

For sure, I am not sorry for making them work hard. If ever they feel that they had to study to survive my class, so be it. I will not apologize for making them lose sleep or sacrifice their holidays. I will not apologize for the extremely high standards and expectations I’ve set. And what the joy, sadness or anger they feel whenever they see their grades are irrelevant to me – they get what they give. As I always tell new teachers, so long as you do your job well, there is nothing to apologize for.

But I know that doesn’t get me – or any teacher – off the hook.

In the same manner that students can argue that their grades don’t completely measure who they are, we teachers know that our jobs aren’t completely measured by how many exams we give, what percent of the course outline we accomplish, or what grades you guys ultimately get. We know, at an instinctive level, that what matters is that you discover who you are, that you come to realize your talents, and that you become persons of integrity, character, and purpose.

Thus we teachers should apologize if you feel that you haven’t been listened to. I apologize if I hurt you with what I said; I’d really like to know what you think. I apologize if I didn’t give you that opportunity to lead, let me make it up to you in the next activity. Is this task a little too much for you? Tell me how I can be of help to you. I’m sorry if I didn’t trust you; I am glad that you’ve proven me wrong.

In the hustle and bustle of high school life, we often forget that a lot of teachers signed up for largely idealistic reasons. We were all brought to this place in the hopes of changing the world, leaving our mark, and paving the way to a better future.

This is point number one: Students don’t have a monopoly on idealism. Teachers are dreamers too. (That’s point one. Let it explode in your mind for a bit.)

When the quizzes, long tests, and essays all pile up waiting to be checked. When meetings, conferences, and summits begin to crowd the schedule. When the students have a bad day and only insist on their way. When all these things happen it’s so easy for a teacher – for anyone, really – to succumb to the real world. The stress, the problems, the low salaries – these are all real. It’s a good thing teachers are dreamers too.

And this leads me to point number two: Being idealistic is hard work.

That may sound strange, so let me explain.

Two years ago, I was assigned as the Batch Adviser of the then 2nd year batch, 2011. Looking back now, it was an excellent school year all-around. As Batch Adviser I was in charge of handling events like the field trip, the family day, and other stuff such as outreach activities, parties, and what have you. I was a facilitator mostly, and I was responsible for keeping the batch council, the year level teachers, and the parents all working towards the good of the batch.

It was a pretty good year. The batch set an ambitious goal: a SophNight at the end of the year and a field trip to Mt. Pinatubo. Quite ambitious. But I implemented pay-as-you-go rules: if you want something, you have to work for it. I taught the batch council to be smart with their finances, that they can only spend if they get to raise, and that I don’t want anyone to ever feel left behind due to financial reasons. The batch, and I love them for this, stepped up. We had an incredibly successful Christmas fundraiser that would help subsidize the costs of our field trip and our SophNight. For a public school where requiring collections was prohibited, the batch was really able to come together. The batch, moreover, had purpose and resolve.

And then tragedy struck.

Our activities were scheduled to culminate the year in March, then the administration at that time decided to change the rules last minute. Due to a deep misunderstanding within the first year PTA council, the administration decided to change the rules last minute. The freshmen, like us, were scheduled to have their activities to end the year. However, a query from one parent on issues of collection and safety was blown out of proportion (suffice to say the person didn’t come through proper channels) and gripped the attention of the admin. At one point, the parent demanded clarity and threatened that heads will roll if she didn’t get her answers. This caused some in the administration to adopt a more conservative and protectionist stance. Henceforth, all activities scheduled for March were cancelled, and furthermore, prohibited. In the desire to contain the troubles caused by some in the first year, the admin deemed that the fair solution to everyone concerned was to disallow any extracurricular activities. It didn’t matter that our batch had nothing to do with the conflict and had everything ironed out. Fair is fair.

Those were the darkest days for me. Our school is great that it allows for teachers to pursue their own initiatives, though support can be spotty from time to time. But this was probably the worst case. Their decision killed me. At one point, I was ready to resign. All the advice I got was to just play by their rules and wait for things to blow over. There was one alternative but it was so crazy nobody has ever tried it: to push through with the activities regardless and be the sole one responsible for whatever may come out of it. The parents, teachers, and students were torn, but they were in agreement if that if ever we defy the admin, it won’t be my head on the platter. Those were the darkest days, and there was no light in sight.

During that time, we were already wrapping up our classes. It was the last week of regular classes before the final exams and it was at this point that teachers were beginning to say farewell to their classes. But I had nothing else in my mind than the turmoil that struck our batch. And then someone asked me a question on my way back from lunch. “Sir, I know you’re busy but there’s something bothering me.” He began. “Sir, is it true that as a person grows older he becomes more practical? He loses his ideals?”

I paused. The first pause I had all week. “Where is this coming from?”

“I’m just afraid that when I grow older, I’ll forget these things I want to do for the country.”

What do I say to that? I politely thanked him for his question and promised that I’ll get back to it. Truth be told, I had too much on my mind to really mull over his question but then it overtook me. It consumed me. I couldn’t escape it. Soon enough, it was the only question on my mind and everything else seemed secondary. Somehow, I felt that the solution to my problem was in my answer to his question.

So in the last day of my Asian Studies classes that year, I gave him my answer.

“The other day, class, someone asked me the most important question ever. It’s a Question with a capital Q – Is it true that as one grows older he becomes more practical and less idealistic?” I began. And I said:

Don’t for one second think that it is bad to be practical. There is nothing wrong with wanting a big house, a flashy car, innumerable foreign trips, and your first million before you hit thirty. There is nothing wrong with that. And many people have lived meaningful lives, full of friends and family, in aspiring for goals such as those. But what I do request – no, hope – for is that if ever you feel called to be something else, to do something else, and to answer to an aspiration higher than yourself, don’t ignore it. Give it a chance. Figure out what it is saying. And if you end up believing in it, then never let it go.

Just know this: it’s going to be difficult.

There will be many who will say “No, you can’t.” “Don’t bother.” “It’s not worth it.” But dealing with the naysayers is easy compared to comprehending the amount of sacrifice required to stand up for what you believe in. Just don’t give up. Being idealistic is a lot of hard work.

After that it became clear to me what I had to do. We ended up defying the admin. I rallied everyone together. The parents and the teachers gave their full support to make our SophNight happen outside school. We pursued our contract with Lakbay Kalikasan and carried on to Mt. Pinatubo. Throughout the activities we pursued the most thorough precautions possible. Everyone was on board on a purely voluntary basis, no one who felt uneasy was compelled to join. Above all, the parents, teachers, and students all took responsibility and liability for themselves and each other.

Maybe you’re curious what happened to me. Well, let’s just say that the administrator who instigated the thumbs down is now retired, and right now I am serving my second year as Batch Adviser. I’ll let the facts speak for themselves.
But to the admin I made it abundantly clear that they must never underestimate their teachers. We love our students, and we work insanely hard – especially those among us who want to keep the dream alive.

And now I reach my third and final point. First, a review.

Point one: Students don’t have a monopoly on idealism for teachers are dreamers too.

Point two: Being idealistic is hard work.

Now, point three: He who does the work learns the most.

I am almost done with my talk and I am sure that a lot of you here wonder what I’m really like in the classroom. No, I don’t give speeches like this all the time.

I teach second year Social Studies, or Araling Panlipunan as you have it here. And for second years, it’s Asian Studies. I teach the subject because it’s the one I enjoy the most. I can work my way around the history of China, India, and the Middle East faster than I would go through European and American. It helps that I love Asian food, movies, philosophy and culture as well, and that I’ve travelled to many of the countries I talk about in class helps a lot in making the course as interesting as I can.

At the beginning of every year, I issue a stern warning: I am here not to teach you how to take a test. I am here to teach you how to think.

And I’m tough. I divide the school year into two: the first half (the first two quarters) doesn’t differ much from a traditional history class. There’s a lot of reading. Quizzes every day. Objective type questions. They memorize but it doesn’t really matter. Just when they think they got the hang of what items I tend to ask, I throw in an all-essay quiz that messes with their minds. I avoid Facebook and blogs during the first two quarters. It’s not that I get negatively affected when I read “I hate that Sir Martin’s quizzes are so blaaaarrrrghhh.” It’s more that I don’t want to develop compassion. They fail a lot but for some reason, they keep on trying.

Perhaps it’s because I promise them a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. I constantly remind them that things get drastically different in the second half of the year, and that if they don’t develop the ethic of reading and studying social studies now, they’ll have a hard time later. When my students fail, I just smile. And I actually ask them to trust me.

Because in the second half, I hardly lecture. There are hardly any quizzes. Essay questions are now the norm. Recently, we’ve concluded our mock trials on Imperialism. Instead of me talking about how the West came to Asia and drastically affected our societies, I make them come to that conclusion (or other conclusions) on their own. A class of thirty is divided into six teams, and two teams face against each other in a randomly assigned topic such as the Indian Mutiny of 1857, the 100 Days of Reform in China, and the Meiji Restoration in Japan. Students adopt the role of judges and lawyers, then they derive witnesses from actual historical characters. They then duel over a contentious proposition, and I grade them individually not just on their knowledge of their facts, but on how well they communicate, how confident they are, whether they take initiative, and whether they play nice with others.

This January we’re having a Middle East Summit where they will attempt to solve the conflicts in Israel and Palestine, and in February we’re capping off the year with a Model ASEAN where each student comes in as a delegate from an Asian country.

Suffice to say, all this is very hard work. They put in tons of effort and the results often surprise even me. These activities are structured enough to give them a sense of direction, but loose enough to allow them to improvise, innovate, and experiment. My activities actually improve every year because of something they themselves discover in it.

I realize that I’ve diverted a bit. I apologize if I suddenly became too technical, but I promise there’s a point here. I’ll let you guys in on a secret. This is something that not even my former students have heard from me during a speech in the last day of class. Listen up.

Once, I was asked by a fellow teacher if I’m asking the impossible from my students. Trials? Summits? Conferences? A little too much, isn’t it?

“Maybe.” I replied. “But I believe in them.”

I believe in them.

He who does the work, learns the most.

This simple mantra I picked up from the one and only education class I ever took in my life. I owe this to Mrs. Vicky Tantoco, an incredibly amazing mentor who predicted (perhaps correctly) that I’ll be teaching for a long time to come. And in my six short years of teaching and working hard, what I learned above all is to believe.

That’s why I work hard; that’s why we teachers endure and hold on to our dreams.

To end, I’d like to tip my hat to everyone here. This has been quite a homecoming for me. I graduated from this school more than ten years ago now. And as I carry on with my work, there is no doubt where some of my most fundamental notions have come from – never settling for mediocrity, always aspiring for something more, and devoting your life to a cause higher than yourself. In these walls we call it The Ateneo Way. Ten years since, I just call it the story of my life.

You may have missed: The Most Important Question

Written September 25 last year –

Towards the end of last school year, a student asked The Most Important Question Ever.

“Sir, is it true that as one grows old, he becomes more practical?” Somehow he looked guilty. ”I am just worried that when the time comes, I will lose my ideals.”

What ideals? I asked.

“That there are things I want to do for this country. That I want it to be better.”

I recall fumbling for an answer. Caught unprepared, I didn’t have anything coherent to say. Or more likely I wasn’t ready to say what I really wanted to.

At that time, I was at a crossroads. The economic downturn left so many in a bad place, myself included. I was about to send myself off to graduate school, but my savings were nearly wiped out (one month I spent more for gasoline than food) and the prospects of finding a new, more fulfilling job simply wasn’t there. I was also at a sore spot emotionally. Despite being given a position of authority and responsibility in the school, support wasn’t given to me by the higher ups when I needed it most. It was demoralizing. It felt futile to dream, taboo to hope.

It was so difficult to answer that student because I just wanted to give up. I just wanted to take the easy way out and quit. So the plans I’ve set for my batch wouldn’t push through? “I’m sorry. It was beyond me.” The stress wasn’t worth the pay check. And the call center seemed so attractive all of a sudden. I was ready to say, “Yes, it is true what they say about growing old.”

Abandon hope, all ye who enter here.

Read more.

Last Two Minutes, or Why I Want to Go Overtime with Batch 2012

Greetings blogosphere! It has been quite a while. Again.

We are about to begin the last week of school on Tuesday. Thanks to the People Power holiday, we have Monday off but don’t let that deceive you: there will hardly be any rest.

The last two months of school are usually the busiest for me. It is when I culminate everything I’ve been working towards, tie up loose ends, or make up for lost time. That toxic triad makes for a race against time — a race I have every intention to win and a race I have had a good track record of winning. And yet, at the risk of mixing my metaphors, let’s borrow another one from basketball (since tennis, though I love it, does not convey the same urgency even when you’re 0-40, 0-5 down in the fifth set; desperation yes, but not urgency).

I am forcing the game into overtime. Last two minutes and I am three points down, and I have to make my play. I just need to make one shot. Or maybe two. Do you have my back? I want another five minutes and so do you.

This school year has had a very odd pace. We started a week late, lost two weeks to AH1N1, and lost another to Ondoy. The passing of a colleague left the community in a squalid pall for about a week, and then I had the honor of being sent to India for two weeks. We are ending this school year a week earlier compared to last year. And there have been oh so many long weekends sprinkled throughout the calendar to make a time management freak like me disbelieve the existence of time.

In sum, I haven’t spent as much time with my classes as I hoped to, or rather, as I would want to now.

I struggled in teaching Batch 2012 at the start.

We could hardly get any momentum off the ground. Whenever classes would be canceled, it would force us to adjust and reacquaint ourselves with school whenever we resume from an unscheduled, extended break. The students struggled to get into the rhythm of school, making it difficult for them to meet the high expectations of a teacher that relies a lot on independent study, full and focused attention during lectures, and undivided participation when it comes to class activities.

And I could see that they were having a difficult time. Many hated (and still hate) my pre-lecture quizzes. I literally felt them dragging their feet through my lectures. The intermittent class schedule in the first semester was unfriendly to the sort of time table-based group activities I design, forcing me to rely on lectures – which I really hated as well.

(Nonetheless, I did make it a point to make them look as good as I can. )

Trapped in a cycle of lecture after lecture, I made a silent commitment to myself that I will persevere. I wasn’t teaching the kind of class I wanted, but I will the moment the first semester (a combined first and second quarter) is through. If I were to rely on lectures, I had to do it well. If I were to expect my students to really read up before my quizzes, I had to push them harder. In my mind, I had to pay all of this off somehow. So towards the end of the semester I began reciting an unbreakable vow — “If I lecture half of the year, you will not hear me lecture in the other half.” By promising my students more activities once the third quarter began, I set the bar for myself. I knew I could do it; it was just a matter of time.

True enough, I began teaching the class I wanted to in the third quarter. I forewarned that it will be a project-oriented quarter and that in eight weeks I will only lecture a maximum of four times (I think I only lectured twice).

We kicked things off with their own version of The Amazing Race where I had my four classes cover different Asian regions. Each class was divided into six teams – one to oversee different aspects of the project, and five to be responsible for five different legs.

It was my way seeing what they were capable of. The first semester didn’t really allow me to know who the leaders were, but this definitely did. I also met the artists, writers, and performers; I’ve also seen who tend to take initiative versus those who were just in it for the free ride. I am generally satisfied with their work, though we are all in agreement that much more could be done if they had more time (they just had two weeks). And as their teacher I would’ve had more fulfillment if I had time to sit down afterwards and talk about every single thing that happened. But I was on my own Amazing Race – soon I had to board a plane to India.

Nonetheless, their projects did look very fantastic. You can check out their amazing race reports here:

CHAMPACA – Sand and Sword (Islamic World)

DAHLIA – All Under Heaven (East Asia)

ROSAL – Silk Road (Central Asia)

SAMPAGUITA – Spice Islands (Southeast Asia)

Upon my return we began work on our East/West Debates, a favorite of mine from last school year. I reprised it with a lot of modifications; in particular, I revolved each mock trial around a specific historical event rather than a general issue. Students can compare the guidelines for 2011 with the one for 2012.

For Batch 2011:

For Batch 2012:

I am very, very satisfied with the results this year. Revolving around specific events is simply the best thing I’ve done, since it allowed students to focus on building their arguments (rather than rely on my talking points like last year) and beefing up their witnesses.

In addition, this exposed them to my real teaching style and I got to see how they measure up to the high expectations I’ve set. I only delivered a two-session lecture on basic concepts about imperialism, and in some sections I didn’t even finish (and it doesn’t really matter). Then it was mostly research work at the library. Then I pointed students towards some websites they could use. To those who had difficulty contextualizing their research, I provided frameworks. What they came up with genuinely surprised me. They discovered texts I never really studied yet and made characters out of historical figures you can’t find in standard history books. It sounds cliche whenever teachers say that they learn from their students too, but in this case it is very real. If next year the East/West Debates get even better, it is only because of Batch 2012.

My Third Quarter Periodic Exam gave them a taste of what I really look for in my students. Dealing with texts we haven’t touched on a single second in class, they answered a pure essay test where they had to choose questions that fit their interest, knowledge, and individual capabilities. While difficult and seemingly impossible to check, it continues to be the most important exam I administer to my students.

And finally, the fourth quarter.

We started big. The Middle East Peace Summit has been done since Batch ‘09 and since then it has been reserved for the last week of February. Instead I pushed it a month earlier, kicking off the new year with a four-part lecture on the Middle East to provide them context for the summit. I also set the tone with a personal favorite, Win As Much As You Can, an ingenious game utilizing the principle of game theory. From a teacher’s perspective, this is a brilliant combo. It teaches them about cooperation and betrayal without having to utter a single word. It sends them off to the Peace Summit knowing that what they are about to do isn’t impossible – if people really remained true to their word and left themselves open to compromise. I didn’t have to say anything to teach them this, they just did it.

(By the way, 2012, do you want to know how previous Batches did it? I wrote reports for ‘09 and ‘10 but stopped with ‘11 since the reports spoil the action. But you can read about how other batches did here: Batch ‘10, Batch’09)

And this, in another wonderful twist of fate, sets up what we’re about to do starting next week.

Batch 2012 is the sixth batch I’m handling. Yet, I am introducing an activity for the first time.

It is something I’ve wanted to do since I started teaching Asian Studies – a simulation of the ASEAN in a truly open-ended and student-driven format.

I am confident enough in my abilities now to pull off something this ambitious. I can see from the preliminary requirements – a Country Profile detailing their objectives for the forum and a Position Paper that basically serves as a draft of their privilege speech – that my students are ready as well. I can see that they have gotten used to the rigor and hard work I expect from my students, and for that the First Semester paid off somehow.

Throughout the year, students have often asked me about things I personally believe in. What is your religion, sir? Who are you voting for? Does our country have hope? I often decline answering. Over the years I’ve realized that education is not about telling students what to think, but to help them – and empower them – to think for themselves. And yet, if they ask me what I believe in now, I will gladly answer.

I believe in you.

I will say nothing more about the coming Model East Asia Regional Forum for I want us all to be surprised with what happens next. But for sure, there is no struggle on my part now. I’ve seen my students grow tremendously over the past months; I no longer see the weariness of trying to keep up with my expectations but the anxiety of whether they will in fact meet them one last time.

You guys will.

Hence, I can’t help but look back at how things could have been (I do teach history). If we had all the time we lost, there is so much we could have done with five more weeks. There are films we could have watched; lectures on Japan and Southeast Asia I could have delivered. Perhaps I could have thrown in an extra week for The Amazing Race and I could have lectured a bit more before the East/West Debates in order to provide more context. We could all take a session after the activities to talk about what happened. And perhaps you could have known me a little bit more than the teacher with super planned time tables and detailed guidelines.

But alas! Such is the fate of every teacher. We’re given only so much time, and there are no last minute plays to force the game into overtime. In the end, I can only hope that you learned a thing or two and felt that all your hard work was worth it. I make no apologies for being tough, but am willing to hear you out if you feel that I haven’t been fair.

We teachers never really get second chances despite a new year that awaits in June; our current batch has come and will be gone, and I hope we’ve made our limited time together truly mean something. For I will be eternally grateful just for that, and it is always a teacher’s prayer that the same is true on the other side.

Batch 2012, good luck in your last two minutes!

fin

BONUS! Below is one activity which we had no time to do at all. I was planning to, but replaced it with The Amazing Race instead. Did I make the right choice?

War of the Worlds

Last November 14, we teacher chaperones for CDLS ’09 were treated to a compelling and thought-provoking talk by educationist and leadership guru, Debashis Chatterjee.

However I have lost my notes. Most of these are built on the very ideas he triggered in me. It wasn’t too difficult to follow him. He was actually quite Daoist.

Chatterjee touched on many things, but what really captivated me were his assumptions about reality. We are essentially beings of two worlds, he would say — the systems world and the human world.

The systems world is mechanical, fixed, efficient. It is premised on the very idea that there must be an order in the universe, and so we build our cities, our roads, bridges, and buildings. We establish governments, contest ideologies, and wage wars for the sake of peace. The systems world is what we have created to regulate human existence.

The human world on the other hand, defies order. It is premised not on ideas, but on actions. It thrives on spontaneity, spirit, and creativity. The human world is also about the relationships we form and the choices we make. And since it cannot be contained — our bodies are mere vessels of this creative font — we can be like that tree which breaks through the wall.

I believe that the tension between these two forces characterizes what thinkers often call post-modernism, a mode of thinking that is disturbed by fixed, standardized conventions and hence attempts to surpass or reshape them.

I can also say that I’ve been feeling a lot of post-modern angst lately. Unlike modern angst which is all about trying to fit in and finding one’s place in The System, I find The System woefully inadequate for me to achieve true enlightenment and fulfillment.

Perhaps, take all this pretentiousness as some fancy way of putting that I am seriously contemplating a career change if not for the [false] sense of security that this job seems to offer. Either way, I am determined not to be contained.

Not anymore.

Postscript –

This TED talk by Elizabeth Gilbert, the author of Eat, Pray, Love, redefines creativity in the post-modern age. Treat yourself to this.

Teaching the Past in the 21st Century

This is the presentation I delivered at a panel in NCRTE 2009, UP NISMED.

Twitter in the PSHS classroom: First thoughts

I’ve been reading up on educators who use Twitter in class. There’s Promoting Twitteracy in the Classroom, Twitter for Academia, and The Twitter Experiment of Monica Rankin from the University of Texas. A quick YouTube video of the latter can be found below.

Other excellent reads on Twitter include Clive Thompson’s piece on How Twitter Creates a Social Sixth Sense and a TIME Magazine cover story that looks at How Twitter Will Change the Way We Live. Adam Ostrow has a good summary of that latter piece.

I am looking into this not because of a superficial want to stay cool and current. Rather, I’ve been looking for a way to answer a question as timeless as education itself — How do we get students to contribute more in class? And how do we deliver more effectively address their needs and give feedback on their performance?

These age-old questions have taken on a new dimension in the 21st century. The Internet has broken down the fourth wall between teacher and student, eliminating medieval pretenses of authoritativeness and exclusivity. In plainer words: Students now learn as fast or even faster than their teachers, and the amount of information available in 10 seconds on the Internet often surpasses what we accomplish in the classroom for 50 minutes.

Of course, there will always be value in that face to face interaction. Mentoring, for instance, is not something technology can easily dehumanize. We are forming human persons after all, not heartless automatons. Education is more than just delivering content; it is about using information in a transformative and empowering way. Hence I will always find Japan’s android teacher disturbing, but we teachers will all be remiss if we fail to utilize today’s technology for today’s students.

Because they’re already using it. And if our goal is to educate, we begin by learning to communicate. We reach out to them, and it is here that the traditional classroom setting can now fall short.

I’ve observed a dissonance of sorts. It is true that few students tend to dominate a classroom discussion, yet everyone has an opinion. There will always be a thought or a question that will nag at a student as he listens to a lecture or joins a group discussion but not every single thought in a class will be heard or made known. And yet, the find their way online somehow. I’ve seen student blog posts with thoughts on the day’s session. I’ve read microblog threads discussing an odd event in school. And I’ve received instant messages and chatted with students who had a question to ask in class but never got around to asking it in person.

I am convinced that there is a wellspring of thought and insight in all our students that remains largely untapped. I’ve always wanted a backchannel in the classroom, a venue for students to raise questions and comments without much thought or apprehension. I would then like to return to their ideas later, respond if need be, and build on our next sessions with their insights. The current feedback mechanisms are either too formal, too informal, or too slow.

In Twitter I see the possibility of creating this backchannel. Just imagine:

• class lectures segragated using hashtags (ex. #ss2imperialsm, #ss2mideastsummit)
• the teacher responding to questions from the shyest student in class
• students responding to questions of fellow students (and maybe earning extra credit),
• students being able to save a transcript of their tweets for use in review for a quiz the next day,
• real-time reactions to the things they see during a film or documentary,
• real-time feedback on the performance of classmates during a group report or presentation,
• the opportunity to inform their classmates of links and videos they find useful,

And so on.

I already plan to incorporate Twitter during two big class activities I have planned for the year. These activities have solicited so many reactions in the past, and it will be interesting to see their reactions when everything runs in real-time.

That being said, there are also so many challenges to this. Primary among them:

1. Access. Not everyone will have a laptop or mobile device which they can use to tweet. Neither are all our classrooms in range of the school’s routers, nor do all our students have unlimited phone plans they can use to text.
2. Learning curve. To use the technology more effectively, students will have to learn how to use it. That will take time. I will also have to set some ground rules (no ‘text speak’ for one) so that this does not generate into a noisy exercise in futility.
3. Twitter itself. 140 characters will not be enough to convey nuances and caveats. There could be so many tweets that questions will be buried or the transcript will be unmanageably long.
4. The cart before the horse. Students can get so amused by the technology that it becomes distracting. There is also the danger of twittering for Twitter’s sake. Therefore, planning and monitoring are key and that means more work for me.

Those are just some challenges that will come up with any plan to use Twitter in the classroom. I am most interested in forming that backchannel I’ve mentioned and I intend to perform some modest experiments to do so. But we’ll see. As it is, I am busy with our course wiki. I managed to throw in Twitter for the assignments page too; apparently it’s now easier for us teachers to remind our students of all the work they have to do too.

*

For teachers who are looking at an easy solution to having Twitter in the classroom, Edmodo is your answer.

It allows you to post files, schedules, reminders, and so on. I would have used it if I already didn’t spend some time on my wiki.

Nationalism is the new cool. Are you in?

Allow me to discuss Ako Mismo in a wider context. For despite my alleged cynicism (which you can read here and here), my first reaction was a positive one. I was impressed. Their launch had impeccable timing. You can’t get more visibility than from a Pacquiao fight; the stray hits alone increased my blog’s traffic by 1000%!

I think Ako Mismo is on to something here. They’re tapping into a reservoir of patriotic fervor that has been building up recently. It is the same reservoir that tips over during every Pacquiao fight, and one that overflowed when Francis Magalona passed away. So looking at the campaign as the work of an advertising agency, I recall the work of another one — McCann Erickson‘s iamninoy campaign.

 

iamninoy was launched on the 21st of August 2008, on the 25th anniversary of Ninoy’s assassination. Quoting from the website’s description of the campaign,

The core message of the Campaign is the selfless giving of the best of ourselves for our countrymen and women and the advancement of the country as a whole. Hence, the campaign is designed to create innovative mechanisms and systems for the participation of corporate brands and their customers in schemes that contribute to causes and projects that enhance the welfare of the poor and marginalized Filipinos.

The primary target audience of this Campaign is the youth who were either too young to remember Ninoy Aquino and what he stood for or were not yet born during that period. The Campaign hopes to engage the youth to learn about the values Ninoy stood for and to continue his legacy for generations to come.

It was an interesting campaign. I have to commend their simplicity and consistency in design and message. The yellow background opposite a monochrome foreground is clearly used to maximum effect. Not much words were needed; my favorite would still be the simple black glasses on yellow background (see above) for as a sticker or a poster it would fit and look cool anywhere.

My only criticism is that at times it came across more as a Bench campaign than something that transcended brands, and that may have turned some people off. It’s too easy to cross the line from social advocacy to commercial opportunism, and the bright, flustering ads did not help. I suppose ads such as this were the culprit:

But kudos to the campaign. Purchasing the participating products benefited various foundations and charities (see left) very much like the PRODUCT (RED) campaign operating globally to address the AIDS pandemic in Africa.

Whether Ako Mismo will develop a similar roster of partners and beneficiaries remains to be seen. It definitely has the potential to do so, and I hope that it does.

More importantly, the campaign remains current. Though it has receded from the spotlight, it goes where it can. For instance, it is sponsoring a fun run on May 31 at the UP Diliman and has sponsored benefit concerts in the past. The campaign also works hand in hand with Ninoy and Cory Aquino Center for Leadership (NCACL), offering commemorative plates to fund their leadership programs.

It is definitely a much fuller and complete campaign than Ako Mismo currently is, so I hope DDB starts taking notes from McCann.

However, Ako Mismo has an edge that iamninoy doesn’t. DDB’s campaign taps into the Internet culture in a very unique way. By soliciting pledges, it engages the audience right away, making them feel that they are participants and not mere consumers. Given their fortuitous timing and an interactive format, developing their partners and committing to beneficiaries can only be good for this campaign in the long run.

For if there is one thing we must always remember about the Filipino, it is that we want to be part of something. Having that sense of belonging runs deep into our culture, though this belonging is manifested in different ways. One primary way is through iconography and symbolism. This explains why the Ako Mismo dog tags are so sought after. This explains the popularity of the Francis M shirts and, in general, all other shirts with the three stars and a sun in its various permutations.

But what has led to all these? What has led nationalism to become so cool again? Students traditionally associate nationalism with the textbook example of the “Filipino First” policy under the 8th President, Carlos P. Garcia. Yet what we’re seeing here isn’t textbook. That nationalism is very much in the mainstream says a lot about the country and the world we find ourselves in.

Traditional, mainstream discourses on Philippine nationalism will tell you that it has been under attack since the 70′s when emigration to Saudi Arabia became government policy. Our national self-esteem then followed a downward trend; where else would it go when you compare life here with that in more affluent societies? The entrance of the Internet seemed to accelerate the slide for now we are even more saturated with the media we download off other countries, still mostly the United States.

Yet, we can also observe a curious, more subtle reversal. The arrival of the Internet has allowed those who have left the country to reconnect and reaffirm their identity in more amorphous ways. Their nationalism is then no longer bound by physical geography but dictated by the depth of their aspirations. For instance, one man’s want for a better life for his family is shared by others like him working in other countries thus creating a new essence of what it means to be Filipino. The shifting discourse from OCW to OFW (‘contractual’ to ‘Filipino’) is evidence of this.

Yet as much as how global shifts and turns affected, so too did our political history. Today’s emergent nationalism follows a trend set by the first People Power Revolution — that in order to save democracy, one must destroy it. This uniqe quirk in our socio-political life explains our inherent restlessness towards government in general. That as one massive population we usurp the rule of one man to place another always struck me as ironic, and hence what we consider the Republic of the Philippines has always been a marriage of convenience.

Thus, this is to say that unlike Europe where nationalism has always been a device of the state, nationalism in the Philippines exists in spite of the state. It rests firmly on the backs of the people; that said, it is just as amorphous as that we can observe abroad. In the manner that we are unique individuals, there are are as many ways to express our nationalism.

This explains why it is so malleable then. Ad campaigns such as iamninoy and Ako Mismo easily capture the imagination for we have yet to truly give our nationalism shape and form. Our subversion by the Americans after Spanish rule virtually guaranteed that it will be quite a while before we find our own feet; icons such as the Katipunan and Rizal easily supplanted by McDonald’s and Uncle Sam. Therefore, there exists a robust market for nationalistic ideas and images, and ad agencies would be wise to capitalize while being wary of abuse.

Am I discounting the emergence of a unifying notion of nationalism that can bring our country forward? Definitely not. We still seek our heroes. And though they have been taken away from us, we have never stopped looking. Though a great writer, Rizal has yet to really find his voice in the 21st century. Ninoy, though it wasn’t that long ago, has his memory sullied by the dueling discourses surrounding People Power.

So for now we are looking deep into the ranks of the everyman, people who have succeeded in life through combined talent, will, and good fortune. This largely explains the popularity of Manny Pacquiao, the boxing icon who transcends socio-economic class and political ideology every time he fights. Similarly, we have applauded the likes of Charice Pempengco and Arnel Pineda, gentle reminders that we Filipinos have something to be proud of even as we grapple to say exactly who we are.

I feel that we must transcend this nationalism focused solely on icons and symbols, and yet I realize that we are really just at this point in our history. There are no shortcuts. I prefer that our feelings for our country translate into concrete commitments, tangible action. However, for us to act we must be clear on what our nationalism means, and what are symbols if not expressions of this understanding?

May we all find what we are looking for very soon. Meanwhile, I still want that black shirt with three stars and a sun.

We teachers don’t play dice

A lot of things have been happening in this school that merit an expose or two. Yet I have refrained from making my remarks public for I wouldn’t want to jeopardize the efforts of some people who want to restore a sense of reason and proportion to the system. I also wouldn’t want to jeopardize the chances of me continuing to work with my students. With everything that has gone on, I conclude that I answer only to them. Hence, it is for them that I too need some sense of reason and proportion.

But rest assured, the battles that have to be fought are being fought. When it comes to the point when we have to bring out the heavy artillery, you will read about it here.

However, something new has been brought to my attention. And given that it broke out in the Internet first, I feel some sense of obligation to respond to it. At the least, I too cannot allow this slander — not the blog’s but of what it references — to pass without remark.

In his blog, a former student delivers a passionate riposte to an accusation hurled by some parents to the teachers of Math 5. The accusations are as follows:

What happened to our students in Math is not a reflection of poor student performance but rather teachers’ performance bordering on the incompetence. Knowing that the 50% of the students already have failing grade in the third quarter. Why would a teacher in his/her right mind give an exam that only 10% of the students would pass? Maybe the teachers are not in their right mind. Because of a very low passing rate, The Math Department then recalculated the weights of the grades. The final exam was given a weight of 7% instead of 30%, The NAT was given a weight of 22% etc.. The funny thing is that they had the power to recompute the grades and yet, they did not give everybody an opportunity to take the removal exam ! They acted like gods deciding on the fate of some students and decided that two of our poor students do not deserve the opportunity of a removal exam, instead the 2 students were given an outright grade of 5. They made a conscious decision to destroy the future of this 2 kids.

If there are any parents out there specially lawyers, who feels as strongly as how i feel about this grave injustice, please contact me privately, I need to consult you. The culture of the teachers in PSHS is changing. Some teachers no longer believe in norturing the students. Many are now starting to have this devil may care attitude. I pity the next batches of students who will be under them. These teachers have to be stop. Expelled from the school by court order if necessary.

I am expected to run to my colleagues’ defense. But before I do so, some disclaimers are in order: I do not know this parent. I do not know the students involved. I have not seen these math teachers in action and thus in defending them I will depend on testimonies from their students which — to be quite frank — are the only testimonies that really matter.

I am compelled to comment for I am a teacher in the school in question. There are principles at stake here and this parent’s comments — once acted upon — have dire implications for me as well.

I teach social studies in the 2nd year. My failing a student may not be as damning as failing them in their fourth year and yet, even we at the 2nd year level don’t fail our students recklessly. We know our responsibilities, and I can only imagine the heavier responsibilities that 4th year teachers have since students are on the verge of graduation.

Thus, this entry is a comment on the very idea that students failing is a consequence of our incompetence and that because of this, we have no place in this school.

I agree with the second premise. To continue nurturing the best of the best, we teachers have to be no less than the best too. That makes perfect, irrefutable sense.

However, I do not fully agree with the first premise. Indeed, student failure can be a reflection of teacher performance, but student failure is first and foremost a reflection of student performance. We teachers are not gods who determine who lives or dies. We don’t play dice. When it comes to grades, we are mirrors; we only give back what we get. It is hard for us to fail students, yet once we’ve done everything in our power to help them and yet they fail to help themselves, then failing them is the responsible thing to do.

The parent actually acknowledges how the Math teachers did everything they could to buoy their failing students. Historically, Math 5 has always been a difficult subject. Their efforts to adjust their scale so that their students can pass is a matter of public record and stated in every scholarship meeting. They cannot be accused of being soulless tormentors for they have cast aside the cold hard truth of numbers in order to pass as many students as they can. If they were soulless, a hundred plus would not be graduating now.

Though I may not completely agree with the philosophy of failing (I rather that my students feel themselves succeed), I am open to thinking that this philosophy may work better in Math than it does in the Humanities. I have been a Math student too, and I agree that Math isn’t for everyone. Yet failing in Math is viable and clear for there are very particular skills one must learn. Failure becomes either an impetus to do better or a signal that Math just isn’t for you. Either way, students have benefited from this. Those who move on to pursue higher Math in college eventually appreciate the rigor in which their high school Math was taught.

On the other hand, the Humanities is a little more open ended. While there are also content to be known and skills to be mastered, measuring student success is not as rigid or deadly precise as that in the hard sciences. We reward participation, insight, and hard work. Students who have failed in my class do so not because they can’t recall some obscure historical detail, but because, more often than not, they failed to perform or submit a class requirement.

But I am sure that the Math teachers can say the same thing. They reward participation, insight, and hard work too. All teachers agree with this, and thus I express my utmost confidence that my colleagues have done all they can within reason to help their students. As Jonathan himself said,

One thing is certain, the two Math teachers being insulted by this parent know what they are doing, they are good people and excellent teachers. I am proud to have been taught by them and consider them part of the best teachers and people who have affected my life.

Perhaps, in the eyes of some students, these teachers are impossible. That can be said of any teacher. But incompetent? Hardly. They are among the best and the brightest the school has produced (they are alumni) and have yet to offer. Sure, students failed under their watch, but they’ve also produced winners in contests and Olympiads here and abroad. That may not be the most complete measure of success, but it is not an indicator of failure either.

The parent’s emotional tirade is understandable. Moreover, I personally believe that it is the parent’s place to oversee how their child is being taught. Nonetheless, enrolling your child in our institution requires some measure of trust. By sending your child to Philippine Science, you trust us to do our job. You trust us to adhere to the high standards of the school. You trust us to make your child even better.

You can question whether we do so or not, but be prepared to face the facts. If we are truly found wanting, then put us to task. But if the student is found wanting, then put the student to task. So part of you trusting us is acknowledging that perhaps, your child just did not make it.

To express rage and anger at the child’s failure is understandable. Now all those college plans will be back in the drawing board. But to quickly label the teachers as incompetent and to threaten their termination is rather out of line. It belittles the fact that they have done good work. The comments in Jonathan’s post show that there are students who will defend these teachers. Thus, they must have done something right.

Perhaps, what this parent fails to realize is that his or her child is not the rule. Only two — out of a Batch of more than two hundred — are getting a five in math. The only obvious question to ask after all this is really: What did the student fail to do?

Because what a failing grade says is that the student isn’t ready to move on, and there is much more to lose in the future if a student fails to do well now.

If you teach, get yourself this book for Christmas

Teachers, this is the book we must all read if we want to prepare our students for the 21st century. The core thesis of this book is what I’ve been talking about for the past four years now, and its ideas are what I’ve been slowly integrating into my own practice.

The book recognizes the following new realities which our schools must be able to adapt to:

• the rapid evolution of the new global “knowledge economy,” with profound effects on the world of work — all work.
• the sudden and dramatic shift from information that is limited in terms of amount and availability to information characterized by flux and glut.
• the increasing impact of media and technology on how young people learn and relate to the world — and to each other.

This is a new arrival at A Different Bookstore though the title itself is not well-stocked due to its specialized nature. Check it out when you can and buy it if you could.

This book is required reading for us at the Philippine Science High School. We tout ourselves as the leading high school in the country but we know the harsh realities underneath that hype. We know that we could teach our students better, we know there is a better way to structure their learning environment, and we know that there is a lot in our culture that has to change if we really want to move forward.

This book tells us how.

Bookmarks for today

Just some essays I found remarkable but have no time to comment on right now. Will get around to it soon.

• “Positive and negative democracy” by Christopher Ryan Maboloc
• “Past, present, future” by Conrado de Quiros

I’m currently thinking about how my approach to teaching history has evolved over the years. I’m happiest with how I am teaching now. It’s closest to my vision of how history is integral to a healthier democracy, ideas which I learned from Sam Wineburg and articulated in an old post:

• Historical thinking is unnatural: notes on how to teach history

I am itching to write about all this.