Friday, August 31, 2012

Why I Just HATE Teachers (like these)


Please, before you grab your activism machete, read the whole thing. This is in NO WAY intended to undermine the teaching profession. In fact, I personally think teaching is a job for those who want humanity to survive----and are willing to do something about it. I WANT to be a teacher, myself. No really, I do. But as I graduate from college, I just can't pass up this opportunity to air out one of my BIGGEST frustrations with my stay in Silliman. I hope those teachers I implicitly refer to here will do mankind a favor and just STOP teaching.

Rant starts here:
What irks me more than lazy, whiny, stuck-up students are inefficient and incompetent teachers. Their mere status as the educator in the classroom obliges them to, at the very least, prepare something for his/her students in order for them to learn.

I say that again, LEARN.

Meaning, these have to be "new" topics, something they could reflect on, apply on, and pass on to others. Something they at least READ ABOUT.

 Well, you get my point.

They have the responsibility to be the most dedicated person in the classroom, not just because it's in the handbook, but because it’s his JOB AS A TEACHER to be followed by the students. He has the moral responsibility to be the academic and ethical role model of his students. He cannot afford to be just sitting there, studying his notes and mindlessly blabbering them out to his students. He needs to make that effort to be interesting and engaging. If the students remain to be apathetic and uninterested, then it wouldn’t be his problem anymore. He has done his obligation as an educator to the fullest extent. There is nothing more he can do. You cannot question the credibility of one who has done his job right.

Right? RIGHT??
It should also be noted, and noted well, that as a teacher, he ALSO has to act decently. He has to be the moral high ground. It does not matter if he drinks heavily outside the school walls (although it would be doubly nice if his students don't find him sprawling over his own vomit on a regular basis), just as long as when he’s in class, he retains that air of respect and decency. He cannot just insult his students “because he’s a teacher”. With every insult, he teaches aggression. He cannot act ludicrously towards his students and brush it off as playful jest. He has to distance himself from the student’s personal space most especially because he’s a teacher. He needs to be above them, academically AND morally.
So yeah. We want them FIRED. 

Rant finished.

August 4, 2012


I hate it when we fight
It's painful and it hurts
Well, for me
Because I'm the emotional one

It starts with a quip
And ends with a whip
Of hurtful words
And jabs of mean
and evil
And it's painful
Well, for me
Because I'm sensitive

And what's worse is that
Everyone else chooses sides
And they always choose yours
Always yours
Never mine
They comfort you
Understand your points
Agree with you
And try to make you feel better

But not me
They never pick me
They never try to make me feel better
They never tell me "it's gonna be okay".
And "I feel for you"

And I know why
I know why they always choose you
I hate to admit it
And I know you know it too
That's why you have so much fun
Making me cry
Showing me
Telling me
Proving to me
That they like you more
That they choose you more
And just love you more
Because I'M the ugly one.

And you know I'd need you
More than you'll need me
Because you'll always be okay
And that's why you hurt me
And make me cry

They would always, always pick you
And tell you you're doing great
And there's nothing they could hate.
And that you're only human.
You make mistakes.

And I can't.
And I'll never be good enough.
And that I try too hard
And that no one really cares
And that I have no right to be emotional
Or sensitive
Or hurt
Because I'M the ugly one.

A Tale of Two Trees


Two trees deep in the dark forest
Struck by strong winds
One, a strong mahogany
The other, polished bamboo

The strong tree hits the wind fighting
The other bends slowly, succumbing
Branches trailing down the other's trunk,
Down toward the roots

The bamboo stops suddenly.
Hushed whimpers are heard
His strong, hard wood---the mahogany's---
Leaves the bamboo bent, attached midway

And he stays there
For a long while. Swaying.
The whimpers grow louder
The wind, stronger

A crack is heard
The strong tree is breaking
Yet the bamboo remains swaying
to and fro, to and fro, to and fro

Another crack.
The strong quivers
His branches shake.
He's coming to his end.

And he does.
He comes.
To his end. Hard.
With a bitten-down groan.

He falls back, breathless,
Drained of his life-sap.
The bamboo is now stands.
Victorious. Empowered.