The School Bell Rings Again

Nope, I didn't fall off a cliff or anything dramatic like that.

School started this week and I've just had to keep up with the rhythm of the new season. It's crazy how the ebb tide at work has once again stirred a whirlpool of internal doubt, uncertainty, and anxiety. But not to worry, I think I thrive best in an environment that lets me face my fears. Hopefully, I come out of it, scathed maybe, but a wiser and richer learner.

Anyway, it's been exciting to have the kids back in school, and I can't wait to see the walls peppered with their wonderful creations. The five-year-olds have been a joy to be with; I am floored at how candid but honest they can be. Many of the younger ones have adjusted to their school routines and took to their new world easily. Of course there are still some children who like the idea of going to school but are still mastering how to let go of their security blanket. Believe me, I know the feeling. But I know, too, that this will soon pass.

As we were busy dealing with our back-to-school blues, I finally got lucky reconnecting with some of my first batch of students who are in college now. Imagine, these now adults are still calling me teacher, when twelve years ago I had no clue if I was doing any teaching at all, whether I had more hits than misses in the pedagogical sense. I found the answer when each of them shared their own short story about what they remember most when they were first graders.

Meanwhile, my students from last year who are now going to the big school for the first time have their own success tales to tell about their huge transition. Their parents have been sending messages about how bravely they embraced their new role, how eager they are to learn, and how independent they have turned out to be. One mom said: She likes her new school and teacher but says will love you and Creative Explorers forever.

What a week it has been. In a word, it was a reunion for me. I got acquainted again with our present school community, reestablished communication with my former students, and most importantly, I was reminded again why I teach. It's not about the lessons written on my weekly plans; rather, it's simply the good and happy things that children learn about themselves that really matter.

I'm feeling: the passion again.
I'm listening to: the passion again.

Pantoum

Our sun is in a gray hue
Do you see it?
I do.
I'm tired of feeling nothing

Do you see it?
The empty looks
I'm tired of feeling nothing
I need more than your words

The empty looks
Love
I need more than your words
What ever happened to our

Love
Our sun is in a gray hue
What ever happened to our
I do.

I'm feeling: drawn out.
I'm listening to: that part of myself which really matters.

About Mom

I'm home alone for the three-day-weekend. The kids, together with my husband and his family, have hied off to a rest house up north to have their last vacation before school begins. I have to hand it to my husband to understand my need for space, but I digress.

I hopped on over to my parents' house before lunch yesterday and spent lazy time mostly with my mom. She made sure to cook one of my favorite chicken recipes (the one with chorizo de bilbao and mushrooms!) and served two of the yummiest fruits around, santol and cherries.

After lunch, she napped while I blog-hopped. I joined her after a while and woke up feeling renewed. She had agreed to accompany me to buy curtains for school, and she was ready to go when I got up from bed.

She let me drive for her, too, an occasional phenomenon. See, she's one tough cookie, so independent and free-spirited. On our way to the shop, I told her I've been experimenting with eyeliner and asked her if she liked it. She said yes, but hesitated that it was the eyeliner; she said my eyes looked rested because I napped. She went on about not being able to get enough sleep since she had children, and I was nodding my head behind the wheel, thinking about how I woke up at 5:30 in the morning that day.

We talked about my kids going back to school soon and reminisced about how she would prepare labels for my books and notebooks with her own calligraphy. I was still nodding because I vividly remember being proud of her handwriting, showing off to my classmates her masterpiece imprinted on my school stuff. At this point, I reminded myself that I had two books to lend her, both about our lives as women, about loving others and respecting ourselves. She'd like that, she said.

When we got to our destination, she tried to talk me into considering a certain style she had in mind for the curtains. She attempted twice but she gave in after I firmly told her that I knew what I was doing. I knew she forced herself to keep quiet because just two days before, I was in a similar scenario with my daughter at the beauty parlor. Reisa finally agreed to get a haircut, but had me promise that no more than two inches would be trimmed. Hushed and obliging, I sat through the whole procedure, remembering to keep my vow.

After our trip to the curtain store, I drove back to her house and had a snack of fried bananas. She asked me to stay for dinner, and I knew she really wanted me to keep her company. I went back and forth about giving in, but duty called. I told her the truth: I had to go home because there's a pile of books and notebooks that I had to label before my daughter goes back to school in a couple of days.

And there it was, right before me. I realized...I am my mother's daughter. More so, I have become my mother. Judging from the way I was whistling on my drive back home, I knew... what I've become isn't so bad at all.

I'm feeling: like a child again.
I'm listening to: The Shins.

Breaktime

I'm taking a quick break from work to have a little fun. I've been sitting in front of my laptop the whole day--my back hurts, my eyes are red from their workout, and my mind is racing and picking up the pace by the minute.

It's time for an impromptu number.

There are just 10 more days of summer left,
Making 9 staff members anticipate the start of a new cycle.
8 letters in the word creative,
7 in the verb explore.
6 women friends, both teachers and learners
In 5 classes,
or is it 4?
Takes 3 children to spell the difference.
2 classrooms that will hold children's smiles and laughters
in 1 school year, no less, no more.

I'm feeling: hopeful.
I'm listening to: Nirvana in my iPod.

The Preschool Send-off Checklist

If you're a parent who'll soon be bringing your child to preschool for the first time, please get a copy of Smart Parenting, June issue. I contributed a checklist of things parents need to prepare for before that big send-off to school. Entitled "I'm Ready for School!," the guide includes questions you need answered and helpful tips in the following areas:

First Day Blues and Clues: the critical first weeks of classes
The Daily Details: the routines of schooling
The School Supplies: everything material
The Emergency Toolbox: information you'll need, just in case
Home-School Partnership: yes, it is a PARTNERSHIP
The Intangible Backpack: preparing your child in all other aspects

Take a deep breath, co-parents. This is a milestone, not only for our young children, but for us as well. :)

I'm feeling: sentimental about River being in kinder this year.
I'm listening to: River's footsteps as he inches his way to my room.