I wanted to write about a of things. My twisted ankle, my newly found affection for Conrado de Quiros's writing, having BV all week, my family's visit this weekend...

But everything seems petty and trivial now.

I think we all know why.

The problem with being a high school teacher is getting caught up in all the high school drama. This is a world I left 8 years ago, when I graduated. Now I'm being sucked in without any warning or wanting.

Daw bitch takon. (Parang bitch ako.)

This is where the bunso complex comes in. I've never had to deal with high school drama except to the faintest degree. Even in college when I was the mother of an organization, there was no drama as blown-up as the one I'm dealing with now. Backstabbing, name-calling, this is Mean Girls, the South Cot version. I don't even know how to comfort a hysterical 13 year old.

There are times I want to roll my eyes because of the superficiality. I thought I was emphatic, but this week proved me wrong.

I was doing good for the past five months. I was in sync with the community, I was speaking good Ilonggo, I was having fun. I WAS HERE.

Then the JVP Midyear Evaluation came and went and I realized how much I missed my formstaff and my batchmates. 

And now it's been four days since we left the beach, but I'm still reeling from homesickness for a group of people I never thought I'd be so connected with.

( a love story )

 Two promises that will last until the end of my JVP year (April 2010):

1. I promise to blog or post pictures every week.

2. I promise to keep my first promise. 

This is too surreal.

Last Sunday night, one of our acquaintances here was mugged and killed. The scene of the crime is fifty steps away from our boarding house, near the church where we hear our weekly masses.

I cannot believe it.  Norala looks like a peaceful town but behind this facade are problems just like with every other place in the world. Drug addicts, people getting desperate for money, you get the picture. It's the first time I am this alarmed because the incidents are getting consecutive. A week ago, someone got raped and killed. Her body was dumped near the park. It's a small town. We're not used to news like this.

I used to walk alone to the palengke with nothing but a flashlight on. Sometimes we jog as early as 4:30 AM, finishing by sunrise. Now we can't do things like that anymore. It's a red-alert for safety.

I'm really really scared and for a millisecond I really wanted to go home. But then again, if it's your time to go, then it's your time to go.

***

The woman who got killed was the owner of Nocil, the carinderia where we used to get our food. She wasn't even old. She was in her forties. The last time we talked was two weeks ago. It was almost closing time but we haven't had dinner yet so she let us order and even offered to heat the Macaroni for us. That was it. We knew her. She knew us. And now she's gone.

I'm in a coffee shop somewhere in Koronadal City, South Cotabato with my bruised and battered laptop plopped on my lap. An almost-empty mug of coffee sits on the table beside me. There's a pile of textbooks and paper on my other side. The music playing is a jazz album of Christmas songs. And I'm surfing the net, Facebook-ing, instant messaging while I struggle to update the syllabi of my subjects. And it just hit me that everything about now is a throwback to the previous life I once led. College is over but today it feels like it hasn't. The music screams Starbucks and the heat of my laptop is strangely comforting. The bitter taste of designer coffee has been nothing but wonderful and my productivity is still second-best from my procrastination.  But I don't fight this habit like I do on most days. Instead, I've been at it for a couple of hours now, knowing that it too, will end soon. Later I will have to work like there's no tomorrow, but at least I have now.

I'm reluctant to organize another leadership training. I'm being slightly pressured to do so because of the so-called success of the first one but I'm trying to stand firm. What's the point of having a phase 2 leadership training when phase one didn't exactly work? The students are clamoring for another leadership training because the first one was genuinely fun.

But I was expecting changes, ripples, or at least a sign that they won't remain stagnant in their positions. One month after the training and there's nothing still.

And then there's one student who I'm sure I will never forget. Daniel is the vice-president of the student government and he's really really smart. After the leadership training, he gave me this note.

Aug 22

Dear Miss Amor,
    Mas napalaki talaga ang tama ng representation mo sa akin. Lubos kong nadama kung bakit nagkaroon ng Leadership Training. It shows how a leader must act to his job and with his/her colleagues. Thank you sa lahat.
Marami talaga akong natutunan. At ang keyword ng leadership - love.
Take care :)

Your student,
Daniel

And just like that, he got it. Everything I was trying to convey. Leadership contextualized in love. He got it. It would be my pleasure to organize another training if only for students like him. I am certain this boy will reach his dreams. I'm not his teacher but I've worked with him through clubs. He's brillant. And he doesn't cheat. One out of a hundred, one in a million.

Bow ako sa kanya.

Alright. I have a confession to make. Lately I've been feeling guilty. One of the core values of being a Jesuit volunteer is simplicity. It's common knowledge that I'm not a simple girl. But for the past few months I have been trying and trying to lead a simple life. You'd think it would be easy, especially because I live in a rural town.
But I'm not kidding when I say it's harder.

Just last Sunday we were invited by the family of one of Nikki's students (who also happens to be one of the richest in town) to join their family outing. They wouldn't take no for an answer. So despite our heavy workload and tons of paperwork, we grabbed our clothes and joined them.

They took us to a resort in Banga, South Cotabato where we ended up swimming and eating all afternoon. The handa included lechon, chocolate cake, grilled fish, pansit bihon, barbecue and more.It was fun. In fact, it was too fun. And that's what got me thinking. Moments like this are indeed a luxury. Even if I'm here in Norala, I'm still being pampered.

Don't get me wrong, I love the generosity of the people but it can be too much. So much so that it gets in the way of my work. Case in point, today. So I'm hoping that I will be kept reminded of why I'm here. Because I didn't go here on vacation. But I also didn't go here to suffer. It's difficult to achieve balance between the two because I'm used to working in extremes but I'm trying.