Grad Pics 2008-03-26

I was feeling quite aloof from and numb to all that was happening on this occasion.

It should not be so, some teachers might say, since for the first time I am witnessing my students actually graduate. I have been a teacher for almost a decade now but I had been handling undergrads and I had left the institutions I was working with before my proteges had the chance to march on stage to get their diplomas.

I should be elated, melancholic or even jubilant, but I was not. I tried to find the reason for the dryness in emotions? Is it because of my age? The last time I graduate with classmates was 14 years ago. Maybe, but I am more inclined to say that it is because of the fact that in my own eyes, I was not able to become a really good teacher to these students. I did fine but there are just too many should have beens in the way I relate with them, with how I was in the classroom, with the delivery of the lectures and ideas, with the actual content of the curriculum.

There is before me the coming school year. May it be more successful.

Memories

Our Grade 4 class (St. John, CIC, 1984) recited this poem for a school celebration. I am quoting it here in light of Barack Obama's recent speech about race.   It is quite special to me because of the fond memories attached to that year.  It is because of this "specialness" that I can still recall some lines from the poem.  This in turn helped me find it on the internet.  It turned out that it is a much longer poem since I believe we recited only the 1st part (Their basic savagery.)  I also thought the spelling of "bucks" was "box." This poem, because of its content and the images it uses to portray the members of the "black race," is controversial during its own time (according to the ever trustworthy wikipedia) just like the statements of Obama's erstwhile pastor.  Baligtad na nga lang ang race ng nagsasalita ngayon.  Having said that, I like the way the poem is constructed.  One can actually imagine the setting of the poem which for me is one where a group of black people are dancing to the beat of drums. There are some marginal notes, presumably by the author which for me serves as guide to the oral reading of the text. I just hope the multiply site is able to lay the poem out quite well.  Read on. The Congo   By Vachel Lindsay     A Study of the Negro Race     I—THEIR BASIC SAVAGERY FAT black bucks in a wine-barrel room, Barrel-house kings, with feet unstable, Sagged and reeled and pounded on the table, A deep rolling bass Pounded on the table, Beat an empty barrel with the handle of a broom,         5 Hard as they were able, Boom, boom, BOOM, With a silk umbrella and the handle of a broom, Boomlay, boomlay, boomlay, BOOM. THEN I had religion, THEN I had a vision.         10 I could not turn from their revel in derision. THEN I SAW THE CONGO, CREEPING THROUGH THE BLACK, More deliberate. Solemnly chanted CUTTING THROUGH THE JUNGLE WITH A GOLDEN TRACK. Then along that riverbank A thousand miles         15 Tattooed cannibals danced in files; Then I heard the boom of the blood-lust song And a thigh-bone beating on a tin-pan gong.   And “BLOOD!” screamed the whistles and the fifes of the warriors, A rapidly piling climax of speed and racket “BLOOD!” screamed the skull-faced, lean witch-doctors;         20 “Whirl ye the deadly voo-doo rattle, Harry the uplands, Steal all the cattle, Rattle-rattle, rattle-rattle, Bing!         25 Boomlay, boomlay, boomlay, BOOM!” A roaring, epic, rag-time tune With a philosophic pause From the mouth of the Congo To the Mountains of the Moon. Death is an Elephant,         30 Torch-eyed and horrible, Shrilly and with a heavily accented metre Foam-flanked and terrible. BOOM, steal the pygmies, BOOM, kill the Arabs, BOOM, kill the white men,         35 HOO, HOO, HOO. Listen to the yell of Leopold’s ghost Like the wind in the chimney Burning in Hell for his hand-maimed host. Hear how the demons chuckle and yell Cutting his hands off, down in Hell.         40 Listen to the creepy proclamation, Blown through the lairs of the forest-nation, Blown past the white-ants’ hill of clay, Blown past the marsh where the butterflies play:— “Be careful what you do, All the O sounds very golden. Heavy accents very heavy. Light accents very light. Last line whispered         45 Or Mumbo-Jumbo, God of the Congo, And all of the other Gods of the Congo, Mumbo-Jumbo will hoo-doo you, Mumbo-Jumbo will hoo-doo you,         50 Mumbo-Jumbo will hoo-doo you.”   II—THEIR IRREPRESSIBLE HIGH SPIRITS Wild crap-shooters with a whoop and a call Rather shrill and high Danced the juba in their gambling-hall And laughed fit to kill, and shook the town, And guyed the policemen and laughed them down         55 With a boomlay, boomlay, boomlay, BOOM. THEN I SAW THE CONGO, CREEPING THROUGH THE BLACK, Read exactly as in first section. Lay emphasis on the delicate ideas. Keep as light-footed as possible CUTTING THROUGH THE JUNGLE WITH A GOLDEN TRACK. A negro fairyland swung into view, A minstrel river         60 Where dreams come true. The ebony palace soared on high Through the blossoming trees to the evening sky. The inlaid porches and casements shone With gold and ivory and elephant-bone.         65 And the black crowd laughed till their sides were sore At the baboon butler in the agate door, And the well-known tunes of the parrot band That trilled on the bushes of that magic land.   A troupe of skull-faced witch-men came With pomposity         70 Through the agate doorway in suits of flame, Yea, long-tailed coats with a gold-leaf crust And hats that were covered with diamond-dust. And the crowd in the court gave a whoop and a call And danced the juba from wall to wall.         75 But the witch-men suddenly stilled the throng With a great deliberation and ghostliness With a stern cold glare, and a stern old song: “Mumbo-Jumbo will hoo-doo you.”… Just then from the doorway, as fat as shotes With overwhelming assurance, good cheer, and pomp Came the cake-walk princes in their long red coats,         80 Canes with a brilliant lacquer shine, And tall silk hats that were red as wine. And they pranced with their butterfly partners there, With growing speed and sharply marked dance-rhythm Coal-black maidens with pearls in their hair, Knee-skirts trimmed with the jassamine sweet,         85 And bells on their ankles and little black feet. And the couples railed at the chant and the frown Of the witch-men lean, and laughed them down. (Oh, rare was the revel, and well worth while That made those glowering witch-men smile.)         90   The cake-walk royalty then began To walk for a cake that was tall as a man To the tune of “Boomlay, boomlay, BOOM,” While the witch-men laughed, with a sinister air, With a touch of negro dialect, and as rapidly as possible toward the end And sang with the scalawags prancing there:         95 “Walk with care, walk with care, Or Mumbo-Jumbo, God of the Congo, And all of the other Gods of the Congo, Mumbo-Jumbo will hoo-doo you.         100 Beware, beware, walk with care, Boomlay, boomlay, boomlay, boom. Boomlay, boomlay, boomlay, boom, Boomlay, boomlay, boomlay, boom, Boomlay, boomlay, boomlay,         105 BOOM.” Oh, rare was the revel, and well worth while Slow philosophic calm That made those glowering witch-men smile.   III—THE HOPE OF THEIR RELIGION A good old negro in the slums of the town Heavy bass. With a literal imitation of camp-meeting racket, and trance Preached at a sister for her velvet gown.         110 Howled at a brother for his low-down ways, His prowling, guzzling, sneak-thief days. Beat on the Bible till he wore it out Starting the jubilee revival shout. And some had visions, as they stood on chairs,         115 And sang of Jacob, and the golden stairs. And they all repented, a thousand strong, From their stupor and savagery and sin and wrong, And slammed with their hymn-books till they shook the room With “Glory, glory, glory,”         120 And “Boom, boom, BOOM.” THEN I SAW THE CONGO, CREEPING THROUGH THE BLACK, CUTTING THROUGH THE JUNGLE WITH A GOLDEN TRACK. And the gray sky opened like a new-rent veil Exactly as in the first section. Begin with terror and power, end with joy And showed the apostles with their coats of mail.         125 In bright white steel they were seated round, And their fire-eyes watched where the Congo wound. And the twelve Apostles, from their thrones on high, Thrilled all the forest with their heavenly cry: Sung to the tune of “Hark, ten thousand harps and voices” “Mumbo-Jumbo will die in the jungle;         130 Never again will he hoo-doo you, Never again will he hoo-doo you.”   Then along that river, a thousand miles With growing deliberation and joy The vine-snared trees fell down in files. Pioneer angels cleared the way         135 For a Congo paradise, for babes at play, For sacred capitals, for temples clean. Gone were the skull-faced witch-men lean. There, where the wild ghost-gods had wailed, In a rather high key—as delicately as possible A million boats of the angels sailed         140 With oars of silver, and prows of blue And silken pennants that the sun shone through. ’Twas a land transfigured, ’twas a new creation. Oh, a singing wind swept the negro nation, And on through the backwoods clearing flew:— To the tune of “Hark, ten thousand harps and voices”         145 “Mumbo-Jumbo is dead in the jungle. Never again will he hoo-doo you. Never again will he hoo-doo you.”   Redeemed were the forests, the beasts and the And only the vulture dared again         150 By the far, lone mountains of the moon To cry, in the silence, the Congo tune: Dying down into a penetrating, terrified whisper “Mumbo-Jumbo will hoo-doo you, Mumbo-Jumbo will hoo-doo you. Mumbo … Jumbo … will … hoo-doo … you.”         155

Horton Hears a Who

Rating:	★★
Category:	Movies
Genre:	Animation

Can anyone please assure me that I did not waste hard earned money watching this film? Hollywood has it 1-2 ("The Grinch" - "Cat" and "Horton") in adapting a Dr. Seuss story into a film. Such a waste of good material.

Over and Done With

I ended my school year with the posting of the grades of my students in H4 at 1 PM today. What to do next?

1. Write. Write. Write.  Yes.  There are three things that I have to finish writing before the day of fools come.

2. Help out in checking QTs.  No comment.

3. Have the clearances signed.  Note the plural... eherm.

4. Celebrate my birthday.  Pero sabi nila, pambata lang ang birthday celebrations.  Oo, inaamin kong hindi na ako bata, di tulad ng isang kakilala ko... Kaya walang mag-aaya ng blow out!

5. Ayusin ang carrel.  Sa itsura ng carrel ko, para na akong naka-three years sa Xavier.

Bilangguan ng Kaisipan

Hindi ko maari ang katagang "makata."  Pero 'eto na naman ang isang pagpapanggap na maging ito nga.  Kinakailangan ko kasi itong isulat, bilang tugon sa isang pangakong ibinigay sa simula ng kasalukuyang taong pampaaralan.  Isa pa, palagay ko naman, nahuhuli ng mga imahen nito at damdamin ang isa sa mga naging karanasan ko sa taong ito bilang isang guro.

 

Para ito sa lahat ng estudyante ko sa taong katatapos lang, anuman ang maging silbi nito sa inyo. 

 

Bilangguan ng Kaisipan

ni Jules Philip V. Hernando

Bilangguan sa akin

Ang ating silid-aralan.

Rehas sa akin ang bawat paksa:

Nagdadala ng kirot sa

Himaymay ng aking isipan

Ang kanilang tigas at lamig

Na tila baga ayaw pahawak

Sapagkat may banta

Ng pagbubukas sa mundong

Pilit ipinagkakait sa mga

Utak na maaaring pumulot

Dito ng samu’t saring kahulugan.

Mga pader sa akin ang bawat diskusyon:

May iniingatang pagbusal

Sa bibig ng kaisipang

Manaka-nakang nagbabadya

Sa panganib ng pagbulong

Ng mga saloobing wawarat

At mangguguho sa mga palagay

Na iniingatan sa haba ng panahon

Nagkukubli sa mga katotohanang

Mahapdi ang pagsinag sa kadiliman.

Sa bilangguang ito’y

May pumipintig na mga pusong

Nagtutulak sa dugo upang

Rumagasa sa landasin ng mga ugat

Humahanap ng buhay

Sa likod ng mga rehas

Gumagalugad ng mga pangarap

Sa loob ng mga pader.

Sa mga ito ko natantong

May kalayaan din pala ako

Sa silid-aralang ito.

- Para sa mga klase ko ng H4 G, F, at Advanced Filipino.  Salamat sa karanasan ng pagpapalaya sa gitna ng diskurso at panayam.  At para na rin sa pagpuri sa "tulang" ito.

 

- Para kay Mark Co at 4G ng 2007-2008 na ang paghiling ay pumilipit sa aking kamay upang muling sumulat.

- Para sa Kagawaran ng Filipino ng 2007-2008 na nagturo sa akin na sa gitna ng disyerto ng mga relasyon ay mayroong bumabalong na tubig, partikular kay Mike Cuepo—kanya ang huling talata ng tulang ito.

 

- Ika -28 ng Pebrero 2008

Comic Book Addict in the Making

I have just gotten myself the 6th issue of the new "Thor" comic book, and the 2nd volume of the soft cover compilation of the "Bone" series.

Next on my shopping list is the 2nd volume of the "American Virgin (AV)" compilation.  I would have gotten this too had I got a better monetary status this week.

These 3 will be added to my "V for Vendetta," the 1st 5 issues of the new "Thor", and the 1st volume and 2nd volume of "AV" and "Bone" respectively.

Why comic books?  These are all I can read nowadays given the time I have to allot for work and studies.  My copies of "Shadow Star" and "Shadow Moon", novels the stories of which are by George Lucas are rotting where I last left them along with a collection of Solzhenitsyn short stories and prose poems.  

Best comic book outlet: "Comic Odyssey" at the 3rd Level of Robinson's Galleria.  Why? The atmosphere is quite warm and friendly since the owner personally entertains the purchases and queries of the costumers.  He also knows all the editions and issues of the products available in their shop.  Last, the number of comics available at the store is also quite overwhelming. 

Worst: The "Filbar's" or something at Virra Mall.  Suplada sa mga inquiries ang personnel.  Kapag mukha kang nagtatanong lang at hindi bibili, nakataas ilong nila sa iyo.  Sagwa...