The Price of My Failure

NOTE TO MY READERS: This entry is one-sided, as it tells only a fraction of my experiences in my new job so far. This may sound displeasing to those of you who have affinities towards this certain university, and I sincerely apologize if some of the things here may sound offensive. These are merely my thoughts and opinions, and I cannot be right all the time. I know some of these are wrong feelings, but I cannot help but feel them still. With time, I hope, these feelings will change for the better.

***

I was walking along the A****** walkway, surrounded by all these A********ns in their multitude of uniforms (which varies depending on their respective colleges or courses). Some of them were noisy, and a few were even playing, high school-like, with each other right there on the path. I passed by one such group and heard a bit of what they were having fun about. I shook my head inwardly (it was about something definitely low-brow) on what I heard and hastened my pace as if through that, I can escape this deluge of uniforms, haircut rules, in-your-face cheatings, unwarranted rowdiness, academic ineptness, and crucifixes which have been threatening to smother me. I gripped my A****** ID and bowed my head and thought of how far I have fallen.

***

I was standing in the LRT on my way to Araneta for the Kylie concert. I was squeezed between strangers, breathing in what they breathe out. My leather shoes, which I have got to wearing five days a week, weren't giving much comfort on my deadly tired lower limbs. But it weren't just my legs which were exhausted. All of me was, as was most often the case these days. I was so tired then in the LRT, that several times I had to unceremoniously clutch at my neighbors because I was falling asleep on my feet. My legs were literally buckling under the pressure of keeping up with my UP friends and our night outs and the demanding hours (ten straight hours that day) of my new work. And as I stood there, leaning my sweaty forehead on the hand rails, I struggled to stay on my toes and realized how far I have fallen.

***

I was racing on my way up to my narrow laboratory cubicle to wolf down some lunch. I only had thirty minutes to spare before my next class. I tried to put my things as quietly as possible on my cubicle because my colleagues were having their lunch on the big table towards the back of the room. I did not want them to notice I was there because I did not want to have to refuse their invitation to join them. They had been nothing but nice to me ever since I joined them. And their fond treatment of me as if I were their own son was heartwarming, to say the least. But I couldn't be myself when they are around. I hardly open my mouth except to greet them or to ask work-related questions. They have been trying to reach to me, I know, and that was why I had to stick to myself because the real me cannot be unleashed in A******'s ascetic environment. I hunkered down on my cubicle, meek as a mouse, and as I forked my way through the lunch I brought, I thought of the lunch time I could have had in IC's JFR, surrounded by laughter and friends. I tried to relish the food I was eating but my thoughts wouldn't budge on how far I have fallen.

***

I faced the white board to write the day's quiz and heard murmurings on my back. I reminded my students (who seem to act younger than they are) not to talk once we've started the quiz. I turned my back once again and still heard students whispering to each other.

***

I was going back to my table in front of the classroom after handing out my prelim examinations when this one student raised his hand. I approached him and he asked me, "Sir, what is rust?" as he pointed out a question on the classification of matter. I was so surprised at this question, knowing very well that I was talking to a senior student, that it took a while for me to absorb what he just asked. "Rust, sir" he prompted me. "R U S T. What is rust?"

***

"Sir, I wasn't able to take the exam last meeting." a student asked in class.

"Why?"

"I had two exams that day, sir."

"You had another exam on the same schedule?"

The student fidgeted. "On the same day, sir. I had another exam earlier."

"And so?"

"I wasn't able to study for your exam..."

A feeling of unreality swept over me. "That is not a valid excuse," I said calmly, although I felt the blood rushing to my head.

***

"Class, calm down!"

I almost had to shout as my freshmen students stood up, whooped, and cheered just because they answered a quiz item correctly. In the beginning I found it amusing, since it showed how interested they were in the subject, but as it went on and on and on it started to grate.

"Now let's move on to the next item," I tried to say but one of my students has just stood up and walked across the room to playfully clout one of his classmates on the head.

I had to laugh with the rest of the class because I knew being angry won't solve anything. I was smiling, but inside I was reminding myself that I wasn't teaching in high school. And as I turned my back to them to write something on the board, the classroom cacophony shouted to my ears how far I have fallen.

***

We were having a few minutes break in one of my more mature classes, and we were talking about the recent haircut policy being implemented by the school. I couldn't stop myself from sharing my students' outrage but I still had to control myself from lambasting the futility of such silly policies. In fact, to keep myself on the safe side, I had to keep reminding them that I was merely expressing my opinions. I thought of how, in UP, silly policies can be flayed by anyone and no one will try to hush them down if they were reasonable. In the A****** classroom, I cannot talk about homosexuality. I cannot talk about religious criticism. I cannot talk about my life, in general. I cannot even add them in Facebook because I am not certain how the A****** authorities will react if word gets around of my... activities.

"Sir, why don't you accept our Facebook invitations?" my friendly student asked.

And as my mind raced to find an acceptable excuse, I felt A******'s gray walls cloak me in a cloth so thick that it tries to erase my own personality.

"Before you leave, class, let's have your umm... closing prayer."

I bowed my head with the rest of the class not because I was praying, but because I was ashamed of how far I have fallen.