As presented in the image above, an adolescent community is a diverse group of personalities. Each personality requires particular needs and inhibits unique potentials. It is in this truth that it becomes “necessary to develop the power of self-adjustment to the environment as it is found, and this adaptation results in cooperation and a happy social life that will facilitate individual progress.” 1
It is only through free choice and social opportunities that adaptation can emerge. Social experiences may include misunderstanding, confusion so as compromising and collaboration.
Therefore, I encourage the community to be vulnerable to discussions and to be open to different opinions. As long as respect and humility are embodied, even arguments can be a fruitful social experience.
As adults, it is our responsibility to model patience in our conversations; and as children to our parents, respect in return is the highest duty.
May our difference be a celebration of our personalities that will beautifully end with social cohesion.
I have always considered myself creative. Looking back I have explored different disciplines in the arts, and through the exploration I was able to understand myself better through my creations.
Self-identity took a long while before I can finally put my feet on the field that I can strongly identify myself with. It is interesting how arts evolves in time of technology but art quality remains the same. Quality of the art will always rely on the content or message. The first step of the process is allowing oneself to be vulnerable – for the true self to be seen and to be open for praises and criticisms.
To my realization, nothing is lost every time we let ourselves be vulnerable. Once a creative output is displayed for everyone to see, it is just a creative spill that leaves a trail for others to follow and discover.
I have been delaying my time for those creative spills because of imperfections. Thinking that my skill is not ready to be shared, especially in comparison with the works of others. In reality, my skills will never reach perfection because there is no such thing. Arts continues to evolve with humanity. It is either I’ll have the courage to take part in it or continue to be in the preparation level and always catching up.
As a Montessori guide, most of my creative work is link to education and children. My hobby in drawing is all about children and Montessori. The stories and poems that I create speaks about human development and finding one’s identity through the different stories of children. Recently, I just had the courage to update a YouTube channel and it is still about education.
My field may be in education but my way has always been creative.
Yesterday was the last day for Teacher’s Appreciation Week and I never knew that there was such a celebration until yesterday – when works of love delivered to our very front door.
It was an act of love that moved me in many ways. But the most important thing was that it led me to self-understanding. You see, self-construction or individuality is created by many factors such as encounters, environment, or past experiences. But we can live a lifetime without understanding our self, especially when we are pre-occupied by the goals, plans and checklists that we have put ourselves into. We call them responsibilities. Responsibilities way back when we were studying, responsibilities now that we are working or responsibilities as toastmasters. But where is the self in all these things?
I remember applying to the school I am affiliated right now as a form of escape. An escape from the feeling of lost. Since I did not see myself working in media, I seek for another route and it led me to education
– it led me to the children.
After three years, I remember putting a seal to this decision when I decided to get a Diploma in Professional Education and a License. Then I made a commitment as I finished my contract of six years and now about to conclude my 7th year.
I never get tired of being with the children. I love it more when a child is naughty. It is like a game of chess that I have to win. I am challenged by a child who is too quiet, whose thoughts and emotions are unknown. It is like a puzzle that I have to solve. I enjoy the noise, the chaos, and the spontaneity because that is life and I feel alive when I am with them.
So, when the quarantine happened; and these noise, chaos and spontaneity were downsized to my computer screen all then felt inauthentic. The beloved naughty kid that I usually see 8 hours a day, I now only speak 2 hours a week. People say, it is quarantine, we can watch movies, learn a skill, or start a hobby; just give the self a break. I know, I did. I started sketching. The hour after work when the sun is about to set. That is my sacred hour. The time when slowly the troubles are being washed away while you cling to the good times of the day. That is the time when I sketch – the time when I illustrate my thoughts and feelings. Unknowingly, it was my self-construction.
Now I have a total of 21 sketches all about children and Montessori principles. And that hit me.
At time of lost, finding for solace would always lead me to the children.
That is my core. I am no longer just curious about children nor interested about their psychological development. I just simply love them. It is fascinating how their act of love kindled the love I have for them. Unfortunately, it was kindled during the times when I see them the least.
But yesterday was a good day. Yesterday was the last day for Teacher’s Appreciation Week, tomorrow is Mother’s Day. They are both powered by love. So, I invite you to make that act of love and make sure that the LOVE is delivered to the very front door of the people that matters.
The voice of God having once fully penetrated the heart becomes strong as the tempest and loud as the thunder. The knock of Change having once fully entered your life becomes destructive as the storm but humbling as any calamity.
I had a dream. In my dream, I was in a room resting in the most comfortable mattress there was, surrounded by feather pillows. On my lap was what seemed to be the best book ever written. It was raining hard outside, but I was undisturbed. It was silent in the room. Then I heard a tap on the door. It was a soft tap, but it sounded loud amidst the quiet room. I went to the door feeling delighted. When I opened, I saw a huge figure. I was not afraid nor was I glad for I knew who it was. He was called CHANGE.
Change is an old friend. His visits are unannounced, and there are no grand welcomes. He just knocks.
I remember the first time I met Change. I was six years old living in Bulacan (It’s in the island of Luzon in the Philippines). We lived in a small village where everybody knows everyone. Gates were not closed, and we can easily go from one house to another. When I heard the first knock, I saw Change carrying a basket labelled family.
Together with my brother and mother, I had to live in Saudi Arabia to be with my father. A change for the family. I had a good life in Saudi Arabia. We lived in Riyadh (Saudi’s capital city); and we belong to a small Filipino community. I loved the school; I considered it my second family. My friends were my world; and my brother was the best friend any girl would dream of. I just graduated from elementary, when I heard the second knock. Change was carrying a basket labelled growth.
I loathed Change at that time. “What do you mean growth? I was about to enter what is known as ‘the best time of life’ and I am to spend it with strangers?” Worse, my brother must go back to the Philippines for college. We had to migrate from the capital city to the eastern province (Al Khobar) because of my father’s work. So, my graduation was a long day of goodbyes. I wasn’t ready for Change.
Once in Al Khobar, it took me two months to adjust. That was two months of crying every night. I never felt so alone. Then one day my 13-year-old self just decided to concede but I prepared myself for the next knock. Four years passed. I heard the knock. This time, I was by the door. I saw Change then I took the basket of opportunities. I am going back to the Philippines for college. I’ve grown a lot since the last visit of Change. Although this was a big change, I accepted it with audacity.
Back in Saudi, I had to wear Abaya on top of my regular clothes, so I felt naked going out here in the Philippines without my Abaya. Back is Saudi, we live in a very secluded culture, so I felt offbeat riding the jeepney, using the communal restroom, eating in a ‘food court’ and all other public places. The behavior, the surroundings, the weather, the culture, the people and the language were all new to me. The only phrase I knew was “ambot sa imong lubot” (better not to translate). But despite all these, I was ready.
Change became my closest friend. I got to know Change more and more. The conditions, the timing and the signs of his arrival. But one day I received a different knock. It was soft like a tap on the air, but it was the loudest yet for it did not come from the door, but I felt it in my heart. There was no Change at the door just a basket full of questions. I questioned my decisions, career and future. I had a promising career in communication but that soft tap in my heart sent unforeseen doubts that weakened my confidence in life. This time I seek for my old friend Change. I left the room of familiarity. I quit my job in communication and with nothing but the yearning for Change, I explored the world in education.
And now here I am, enjoying the company of children for more than five years. I know that by next year an old friend would visit or perhaps it is I who will look for Change.
I am not afraid even when Change breaks the walls of my comfort zone, for I know this must be done for me to see (not necessarily pleasing but) a better world. How about you? Have you met Change? Have you welcomed Change?
Experiences throughout the years are bound to make impact in our lives. People say that maturity comes with age. However, awareness as change happens leaves a deeper impression.
The old version of myself had a clear vision of her career in the Media Industry. For a year, after graduation, she was highly motivated in producing documentaries because she believed that the work would influence people. She was living with full speed in the organization that she was affiliated with because she thought that it was the right path to success. However, after a fruitful year, she was lost for no reason. Her heart told her to change path with no clear explanation.
That unexplainable experience of loss brought me to a Montessori school. I signed the contract, managed a 2-month strenuous training, survived a year of sleepless nights and celebrated a success of passing the exams only to realize that the actual training starts when I had my own class to handle and manage. Surprisingly, I was able to accomplish 4 years of Montessori experience with only one drive alone. I was driven ‘not to come back’ (to my old self).
Back to when I was motivated by my selfish ambitions. Ambition to influence people or to improve one-self does not sound bad. Yet, it was NOT Montessori. Montessori’s works emphasize on holistic education. Children witness the growth of a plant (Needs of the Plant), learn its function (The Leaf Factory), see its beauty (Kingdom Vegetalia) and appreciate its importance (Chart of Interdependencies). Thus, a plant becomes alive. All the concepts learn in the classroom represent life – even the movement of water is presented with such respect. This awareness of beauty in all creations is developed in children through the Montessori Method. Consequently, teachers are the first recipient of this phenomenon.
Once I accepted the process of life through the eyes of Montessori, my everyday view changed. Now, I appreciate the challenges brought by trials and disappointments. I celebrate the tears brought by heartbreaks and loss. I treasure the connection of the people who in their own way, no matter how big or small, have touched my life.
I remember being in the classroom observing two children as they argue on who will go first. When they started shouting, I was tempted to demonstrate my authority yet I was reminded to be still. One pushed the other! That’s when I stood to dash to the two children, but then a meek child came to help the one on the floor. The meek child spoke to them. If it wasn’t for that argument, the timid child won’t have blossomed.
I remember hearing a conversation between two friends after a loss in soccer game. One child was devastated while the other comforted his friend by saying “at least we know what to do next time.” If it wasn’t for their defeat then they won’t experience the value of being better.
It seems like children progress naturally to become the people they ought to be. My role as their guide is to observe and take note of these little achievements. Their achievements, like the plants, differ for every child. Thus, there’s a need for me to observe well, to provide the value of each achievement and loss with such calm and confidence. I have become more aware of my surroundings because it is the outside environment that brought drive to my inner self. I see greater nobility in serving other people for their greatness rather than serving my own.
I have no recollection of poems when I was in pre-school. But I remember my first declaration piece when I was in grade 2. It was in Filipino and it tells the story of a woman in labor. That was the first time I learned the importance of stresses and pauses to translate emotions. My mother, Mamu, told me to say the line – “nanunuot hanghang buto ang daing na naririnig” (The plea that is heard pierces the bone)
At that point, I felt the pain of a woman in labor and from then on, it felt like a door was opened into the world of poems. I was eaten whole by the beauty of poems and I believe every word, every story and every drop of emotions in each poem I read.
Rudyard Kipling became my conscience when he advised that…
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
Edgar Allan Poe became the man to look for because of his undying love, when he tells the story that happened
… many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee
Walt Whitman broke my heart when he told the unheard pain of success, when the line says
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head!
It is some dream that on the deck,
You’ve fallen cold and dead.
Henry Longfellow is my biggest supporter for every day I say to myself
Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal.
Funny, because no one told me to love poems; it was a love affair that happened after school, in the comfort of my room by myself and a collection of papers gathered through the years. Each paper was a treasure because each paper held a story that was written in symbols, metaphors and patterns.
Now, that I have my own children in class. I don’t say “I love poems so you should as well”. Rather, I read poems. I remember reading “Don’t Quit” to the class and emphasized on the words “Rest if you must but don’t you Quit!” Two days after a girl, age 8, came to me and recited the whole poem without a copy.
It was also my form of communication to speak in rhymes. There was a rhyme day in a week. At first the children found it funny. “Oh, ahaha! Ms. Maja talks funny” they would say. But then came a boy, age 6, started talking in rhymes and looked like he was enjoying the whole experience.
Later on, when they became grades 4, 5 and 6, I could hear them, enjoying rhymes, riddles and jokes that include play of words. It became their form of rest to play with words.
It’s not difficult to love poetry because it always tells a story. And just like music it carries a symphony of emotions. It also uses a language of mystery. It is an interaction between the writer and the individual reader. These are characteristics of poems that a child will find amusing; because it is their tendency to love stories, to explore different emotions, to speak in codes and to interact.
So, how should we introduce poem in such a way that the love for it will come naturally? We give them the key. But it should be THEM who will find the right door so that THEY can open it.
When I read the poem “Don’t Quit” I held the book where it was written. I read it as if I was back in the comfort of my room hearing the words for the first time (even though I read it a hundred times already). After reading the poem, there was a pause, a moment for reflection. How long? – Three breaths. I asked them if they have questions. If none, I have a question. “What do you think about the poem?”
It’s not whether “Do you like the poem or not?” – Because analyzing poem is not limited only to liking it or not. It’s not “what do you like about the poem?” because it limits their answers to just liking the poem. I didn’t discuss about the patterns or rules in poems; because it should be THEM who will find it through their research. Rather, I asked them “What do you think about the poem?” Half of the hands were shooting up. I let 3 children share then I left. Some decided to discuss it still; others went back to their seats discussing on their way; others decided to draw what they heard; there were those who wanted to write it down while some decided to search for more poems; few wanted to write their own poem; and there were those who did not mind at all.
Reading a poem is a personal journey.
I don’t read poem with my ears and heart alone but also with my body and soul. How does that feel?
Zeeglas 