The Birthday Scheme


A while ago a friend phoned me primarily to ask if I was really calling or just checking if his cake_by_tribute27-d4qxguaphone was on, and secondly, to narrate his plans for a surprise birthday gift. Well he was sort of obliged to spill his plans because a dear friend such as myself was asking. It turned out that he didn’t have any plans. He just knew he had to gift his special friend something that requires effort. Having no concrete plans or no plans at all is not near to effort.

So I decided to give it a shot. I told him things that might actually work and fall under the categories of “surprise” and “effort”. I think I made a point across. Since good friends are abusive, he asked to put my thoughts into writing so that he can be guided. I sent him a message through Facebook. Being the wordy person that I am, I wrote him a detailed and procedural narration of what he’s to do.

I take so much joy imagining how things will work out, that is if he does not mess up. Since I am a good friend, I have to say that he can sometimes be clueless as hell. So for five days until the awaited day, I will be keeping my fingers crossed and praying for the “gods both old and new” to keep my friend’s logic intact.


Get her PNE's kickass album!

Get her PNE’s kickass album!

She wanted a gift that obviously has been wrapped with effort and love. At this age really, I think it’s just rightful to ask for such. The valentine’s day gift combo –flowers, chocolates, some furry stuffed toy –are just too mediocre, too used up, and too elementary that they do not put much impact that stays permanently. I gotta commend this special girl. She really is special. My friend is lucky to have her even if he’s not as good looking as John Lloyd (“It Takes a Man and Woman” fever in the air). Haha!

Since I mentioned John Lloyd and since I am such a good friend, I’d like to name this good friend after John Lloyd. Even if it hurts to compare such gentleman to this good friend. So Lloydy mentioned over the phone after I told him my ideas that what he really wanted is for his girl to not dwell on her past where she was single and gay as the summer sun. He implied that he wanted her to realize that the present is better than the past. It’s better because she has  him.

Now I reckon him to be in my smartass group of friends because he made such good sense.


Girls are really ambitious. I’ve been told over and over that women have high regard for their career. That’s pretty true. I for one can attest to that since I’m on that stage of a woman’s life where she’s desperate to fulfill her ambitions. So recalling Lloydy’s special friend, I thought maybe she wanted to go back to her past because it gave her her fulfillment. It made her happy.

She maybe is at this point, in the stage where she thinks she’s walking the path that leads topathways_by_1000ships her dreams but isn’t finding fulfillment in the walk. And so in a sad time such as this, I think it’s the time she needs her man. She may not say it but I think she wants it. She needs him not because she cannot walk farther on her own or she feels like giving up. No it’s not like that. She can do it alright. She’s tough. It’s just that she’s with him so naturally it means that she has company; that even if she can make it through this walk she has somebody to walk with her; that maybe even if her man is taking a different path as an individual, they make their paths intertwine; that she is assured that when she finally reaches the end he’ll reach his too and meet her; and that, most importantly, she is and will never be alone.


it's a goddamn party

it’s a goddamn party

Lloydy, good luck! I hope you bring smile to her lips and heart when you unfold your plans. I also hope that you will make her smile even in the days she deems smiling as a difficult gesture. 😀

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The Cracks In Life Let The Light Through

Thought Catalog

Realizing that I wouldn’t be who I am nor would I be able to do what I love most without having the cracks in the pavement on my journey is probably the best realization I’ve had as of late. I realized I’ve learned to stop brushing off criticism and start listening to it. Because even if some people are cruel, I can get past that, and listen in case something they are saying is rooted in the truth. When I stumble, I look at what it is I’m tripping over. Not doing so may be one of the greatest mistakes.

And what I’ve noticed about myself is that the things that bother me most are the things that are the most true. So I listen when it hurts. I personally try to consider a perspective I may have not seen before. I try to learn and grow and be better…

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The Benefits of a Broken Heart


I was told that whatever literature I read or movie I watch would always affect my perspective about their themes. I would be so “carried away”, as how people would commonly put it when one cries too much after watching a crying scene. I’m just goddamn vulnerable because my heart has gone flimsy.

However, I wasn’t like this before. I used to be hard as stone and tough as my mother’s mouth. I was invulnerable, arrogant, stubborn, and fierce. I was a wall. You can’t go through me because you won’t ever get a chance to do so. What made me be like this heartless monster? Well, it was heartbreak. Everybody has his fair share of this. And it changed us in different ways, depending on the extent we allowed it to redesign our personality.

I haven’t talked profoundly of this  to anybody. I don’t like talking about this because it would always mean digging up everything that’s filthy and smelling, heck tasting the foul  odor that burns my nostrils. Nevertheless, talking about it is recalling what I’ve become during and after the awful heartbreak.

I remember that for five long years of being to myself and my bitterness which this heartbreak generously gave me, I have realized things that helped me roll up my sleeves and toughen up. These top my list.

1.) I AM MY OWN REFUGE. I realized that no matter how many shoulders I cry on and mother_portrait_by_indajazz-d4w7ftu share my grief, I will only have my self at the end of the day to help me. It’s always going to be on me when the sun sets. It’s whether I choose to listen to the pieces of shitty and non-shitty advice or I listen to what I truly want. It’s all on me.

2.) MY MOTHER AND HER FEROCIOUS MOUTH IS MY BEST FRIEND. Even if the world tries its best to put me around dimwits and bury me in the midst of them so that I would never find sense, my mother will defy this cruel world and its schemes. She is that one person in my life who doesn’t fail in putting sense to my head when I’m deeply buried in my stupidities.

3.) I WILL NEVER STAY IN ONE PLACE, SO WILL EVERYBODY ELSE. This is maybe tantamount to the cliche that says “people come and go”, so I believe when people in our lives have to go, we shouldn’t stop them. It’s everybody’s nature. And when I say that they have to go, I’m referring to all of human’s aspects of personality. Like when I talk to somebody who just stares at me and dwells in nothingness, that’s them there with me physically but drifted far emotionally, worse mentally. I do not hate them for doing that because I know they just have to go.

4.) OTHERS HAVE THEIR OWN BURDENS TOO SO DON’T BOTHER  THEM TOO MUCH. Sometimes I have to find allies. I need to assert my authority over my life and in order to do that I need some form of back up. I gather an army of friends to listen to me as I lay before them my course of action. However, I realized that that’s just too selfish. They too have their toils so I shouldn’t bother them too much.

5.) I AM EFFICIENT ON MY OWN. There were many things I did which I thought I204567_10151169758323290_1554175709_o couldn’t do alone. The one most incredible endeavor I recall is scoring 2 points shy from landing the topnotch list of board passers. Yes, I am now certified at what I do. Well I kinda thought I wouldn’t pass because the exam was as difficult as my sister’s attitude. I thought I couldn’t surpass such a fearsome and burdensome challenge even if I went through such rigorous review period. Heck, that’s the time of my life that I’ve read so much. I did thank my heartbreak. It pushed me too hard.

6.) I HAVE JESTER GENES. I definitely can entertain myself and convince others that my jokes are funny, hence, a burst of laughter in the air. When one is so hurt and is desperate to hide it, he captures the power of laughter and owns it.

Sometimes when situations remind me of that period, I lay back in quietness. When there are words spoken and unspoken that prick me painfully like before, I crack a joke.

Ah, heartbreak. Heart_Broken_by_truth__hurts‘Twas not that bad after all.

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11 reasons why I love my man

Distant yet unbelievably near. This defines the current status we share, me and my beau.pinkies I’ve always thought that long distance relationship is a pain in the arse. Turns out there are times that it isn’t really that bad. Well, only if both try to shorten the distance. The constant exchange of calls and messages somehow meet both ends in a bearable distance.

Yesterday marked the first year of such relationship with my man. I spent the entire day teaching, juggling all four classes in one period so as to catch up with lessons. However, there were moments which allows me to recall what transpired on that fateful day a year ago. When I get out of one classroom and enter another – those moments which I was alone to myself for six short footsteps before I suddenly find myself laughing with 25 student companions – I become a cartoon with thought clouds fogging the top of my head. I was bombarded with thoughts of him. Somehow I felt like I was celebrating such a wonderful day in moments, each with a time span of six footsteps.

I was also able to recall why I adore him. It wasn’t a difficult recollection for he is a man ofup_russell1 perfection. His assets neutralizes his liabilities. It’s amazing how one’s imperfections perfectly complement his awesomeness. This is why he is perfect. Maybe this fact mocks the cliche that no one is perfect. Well I really think every individual has a person they deem to be perfect.

Before you drift off in thought of your perfect person, let me share the reasons why I love my Russel:

1. He is a bully. He makes a jest out of everybody. When it comes to this, there’s simply no exemption. I get my share too. He laughs his ass off about a friend’s stupidity, failed pursuit for love, inability to comprehend sarcasm or some nasty joke, and just about anything. But he is the bully who bullies to stir up laughter without hurting anybody’s ego. No casualty. Everybody’s a vic. Everybody gets his share. Even the bully gets bullied too. At the end, the air is filled with reverberating laughter of drunk people.

2. He is quick-witted. I hate it when he doesn’t make me tease him for even a couple of minutes. He will be able to think of something to throw back at me which leaves me dumbfounded. I suddenly become the one teased. He can pick up thoughts even in the most impossible and least expected moments. When you think he already is in a deep pit unable to climb back up, one blink of an eye and you end up helpless in the same pit. He’ll stare down at you, laugh at you, then bury you alive. Hahaha. But with me, he’ll jump back to the pit and join me there. We’ll be both stuck but will be laughing endlessly.

3. He reads and speaks Filipino. I have nothing against our national language. It’s just that all my life I’ve been surrounded by people who would rather speak Waray or English for the purposes of expression and impression. Not that they are incompetent in Filipino blahblahbut they have the natural inclination for the languages. My Russel is different. I was surprised that he reads comics written in Filipino and that he blogs in it too. He got me into reading the same comics. In amazement, I agreed that the collection he owns is indeed good literature. I burst out laughing over the lines and the reality they hold about being a student, a teacher, or just a weird intelligent and funny person. Those thin little comic books and his love for them made me appreciate life being a Filipino and being a carefree teen.

4. He loves his siblings. He has two sets. The first set is his legit and biological siblings. He adores them. He desires to make their lives comfortable and happy. He has a special fancy for his youngest brother who resembles him. I think he would even give up his king-size bed for his little brother. He would give up his comfort for theirs. The other set is his two good pals he met in college. I am fond of his stories of them, of their hangouts, of their bloopers, and of everything they share. His regard for his siblings, blood-related or not, just awes me.

5. He doesn’t withhold his laughter. He laughs unceasingly. In fact, I can’t imagine him crying. He laughs at almost everything. He laughs at how others laugh. He has two kinds of laughter: the one that insults and teases, and the one that signifies recognition of what others say, as if responding with “Yeah, I hear you, man. Now shut it.” or any of that sort. His laughter is contagious and infectious at the same time.

6. He is a storyteller. He tells me stories that either make me love life more or dislike him for making me actually believe his imaginary characters and situations. Maybe I just am too gullible when it comes to stories. Somehow fiction and real stories all look the same to me. He would narrate a long story with interesting tone and sparkly eyes. I would silently and intently listen like a child struck in amazement of the world imprinted in picture-filled story books. This is the instance that makes me love life. On the other hand, there are narrations which he makes up for the purpose of making me laugh but dislike him for almost making me believe him.

7. He is fluent in sarcasm, pun, euphemism, dysphemism, and wordplay. I would like to say this is so because he learned them in class from his language teacher. But of course he would say otherwise. Words are both my strength and weakness. When you’re good at them both in black and white  and oral, I would bow down before you. If you’re a sucker, I’d hate you for the disrespect but at the end respect and like you. My Russel knows his language. He knows his words. He knows his timing.

8. He lets me rant. He says it’s his job to listen to me. I think it’s odd for a job. Listening to somebody rant and actually giving a damn are two of the oddities one will embrace once he finds his perfect partner. When it comes to me listening to him, he’d tell me that I can put my phone down and respond every after 15 minutes. He just needs to tell his stories. He doesn’t require me to listen and that’s just plain funny.

9. He does not insist. He is stubborn and actually good at being one. But he does not insist on things that I want to do on my own. As long as I can carry out tasks, I do not ask for assistance. When he offers to carry my stuff and I refuse, he knows I mean it so he leaves me to it. When I excuse myself from our talks because I have to do something else, he knows it’s important that I get it done so he allows me to take my time. When he knows my choices suck and he knows something else that less sucks, he knows it’s my call so he let’s me decide but joins me in carrying out the consequences.

10. He can be really mean. And I can be really stupid. At the end of the day, even if I am to blame, he takes the blame and apologizes. He can be so mean to the world that he won’t let me pay the toll of my stupidity alone.

11. He believes that life is good and simple while I believe that life’s a bitch. He always says that confucius-life-is-really-simple-but-we-insist-on-making-it-complicatedwhen one falls seven times one should learn to stand up eight. He may have a tête-à-tête with satan in hell but he will always choose to believe in the goodness of life. He turns blue at times or cry when caught in deep shit, but he can never be stripped of his hope. I may not be able to understand him on this yet but this is the best reason why I love him. This is why I know he would not let me go again.

We may have our worlds we carry individually but we have one we carry together. We are both Atlas in our own ways. Before, I thought I am an Atlas on my own. Then I met him, another Atlas. He made me believe that it’s okay to put my world down because he did so e310df4eb17f5ee32ee24bf5ec952488-d3gpuruwith his and it didn’t harm him. He made me believe and understand that it’s okay to rest and to cast my worries to the wind. He made me believe that we can both put down our individual worlds and take time to relax. For a year, he’s been instrumental in giving back my humanity. I am no working machine. I ought to live.

Today, we find time to put down our worlds so that we may be comforted in each other’s arms.

Happy anniversary, babe! I terribly miss you. I love you! 

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The Downside of Being Young


Because your vote matters

“Voters have short memories. The younger they are, the more impressionable they tend to be. Their impressions, mostly based on sound bites and fleeting glimpses, do not last long either. Three years out of the limelight, a politician who fails to etch a strong presence in the public memory is as good as forgotten. But those who manage to leave a deep mark on the people’s consciousness are rewarded by a lingering loyalty.”


the facebook quiz

Having gone through an exhausting day of work, I found it imperative to read columns in a national publication. I just usually go on Facebook and get to read such literature when somebody credible and respectable among my friends list shares links. Once I am redirected to the link, I spend a significant amount of time going through good and informative reads. But this significant time is lesser in number than what I devote for Facebook, prowling into the lives of people who aren’t really close to me or who would matter to me tomorrow. Some are just acquaintances whose posts I mind to read even if severely battered with periods…………………………………….Last thing I checked ellipsis is made up of three single spaced periods. It indicates pause and omission of words, and just simply drifting off in thought. I bet these people aren’t aware of it. They are more aware of the whereabouts of their crush or where his/her picture was taken on a specific date and who he/she was with.

Awareness is always what my dad wants for me. He needs me to know many things actually. Law, constitution, special power of attorney, block letter format, punctuation, biblical stories, math, politics, geography, history, science, and household chores. Being the youngest, I preferred playing and slacking. I know I always have my dad to define some word I encountered in my homework, to identify a bible verse that tells a story of tithes, or a quick mathematical operation. My dad was my google. Today he refuses to answer my queries. He always tells me that I am capable of feeding myself with answers.

Then there came Facebook. For a quite a while, it was my oyster. It was good to know whoFacebook-hoax was working where, who was screwing who, which was breaking who and who’s relationship, or where was who’s photo was taken. Facebook brings up our stalking potentials. It reinforces our laziness and vanity. It weakens our security. It develops our defenses and pretenses. It eases our expression of anger towards another.

It was just recently that I have decided to bid my farewell to my long time companion. Mark Zuckerberg wouldn’t even notice such parting. My friends wouldn’t either, unless a moment of helplessness had them on the neck and they needed me to worsen their toil or fix it.

The time the youth today devotes for social networks is just significant that it could have saved their lives had they only spent their time reading. Nobody knows when an information will come handy. What if you just read 10 things to light a matchstick and you needed to fire up the fireworks otherwise you’ll be fired from work? Or what if you only read half way and then turned back to Facebook then surprisingly found your candle over a blackout was put off, and the 10th thing on the list was to use a lighter in the absence of the match?

The youth today are exhausting their resources and and energy to things which would not24-hours-5 matter in the long run. Facebook for recreation is understandable but Facebook for 24 hours of sheer stalking and post-filled timeline is unbelievably useless.

This afternoon after struggling in finding something to read while resting, I thought the only time I’ll move on from my Facebook dramatic departure will be the time that I will be more excited to read information of universal interest so as to educate my half empty brain. Maybe it’s time to learn to struggle to be intellectual.

I was struck when I read the article of which lines are quoted here. I am ashamed that this generation has high regard for what they see than what they know. As my close friend would always say after sharing his problems, “They do not know the process I went through. They just look at the product.” That is true every time. People would usually look at your  ironed shirt but disregard the efforts you made while ironing the clothes. Unless those people had witnessed how you neatly lay it and spray fabcon before running your hot iron on it, they would know that it isn’t just an “ironed shirt” but a “nicely ironed shirt”.

Like in choosing the senatorial candidates for this May 2013 elections. The younger Ignorance_73fa86_190451generation will be dictated by media. It wouldn’t meticulously run a background check on these candidates. I believe that parents should monitor these young voters in weighing their choices. Schools have started carrying out their social awareness campaigns through fora, debate, etc. For the uneducated, it’s another story. I am not sure if there are nonpartisan groups educating these voters. (I am not sure because I haven’t dare find out. Shame on me.)

It is truly sad for this generation to be identified as non-readers and unaware. Rizal is continuously being mocked every time his belief in the youth as nation’s hope is contradicted by the youth’s actions. Nation builder, my arse! (I’m kidding. I just felt like saying it.)

I believe in the youth today. They can make it. The adults should stop leading them into an abyss. The chasm between intellect and ignorance is getting wider, alarmingly wider.

“Today’s voters are mostly young, lower middle class, and with the benefit of no more than1e869eef67735d5eb24c8f61f8e5dbc8 a high school education. What the surveys suggest is that they are not interested in the candidates’ party affiliations, or what they stand for, or whether they think they can meaningfully contribute to the discussion of issues at the Senate. They are dazzled by form rather than by substance, a fact that makes television all the more the true battleground of national elections.”


Start build your nation. Be aware. Click the link below and READ with comprehension.


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Strive to be happy

Sometimes it’s just better to take a walk outside with your dog than to sit before your laptop and absorb the world’s negativity from what you read. Your life is already incredibly crazy and reading crazier events in the internet would just make things worse for you. Despite such, everybody tries to look at things differently. All things are sunny. Something wonderful is gonna open in the sky for you. Clouds will clear out. The sun’s gonna cast its rays on your wrinkled skin and penetrate your soul, keep you hopeful. But just when you’re about to lift up your miseries and breathe easy, you are bombarded by the harsh reality you’re in. You open your eyes and suddenly your devils embrace you again.

I am not trying to spoil your happiness or your belief in happiness. I haven’t given up my pursuit for my bright light. Hey, I want happiness too. Who doesn’t? Even one who is on the verge of losing his breath and life entirely, believes that his downfall is for a purpose. That maybe he is bedridden and dying so that others may see that no matter how promising life is, it’s still death for all of us at the end. That death comes unannounced. That he is still fortunate that death gave him a notice, a due date. That he is prepared and has prepared his loved ones about his death.

However, most people are so caught up in whatever worldly task they have that they just don’t care. Some luckily may feel remorse in them and mourn for him who died. Eventually they’ll move on with their lives and he will be forgotten. They’ll die too later. Their memory of him will die with them. Unless they have looked at death the way he did and have impacted others the same way, he died inessentially. But he died believing in happiness.

Most people would say that life is short so live it well. Be happy. Yes, yes, I get it. Be happy with what you have now. With  your circumstances. With the badass people sucking the energy in you and pretending they understand you. With your bills you hardly can pay. The thing is, in being happy about such awfulness is not being happy at all. Did it occur to you that recognizing these realities is also recognizing the trashy feelings that come with them? You cannot brush off these feelings no matter how unwanted they are. You cannot store them somewhere inside your brain hoping you wouldn’t have the chance to recall them. I think one cannot move on from his frustrations and sadness. The brave will deal with them, live with them and their consequences. I think one doesn’t ever finish dealing. There will always be frustrations coming after another. You’ll be caught up in a vicious cycle. You cannot be possibly be happy with all these.

Maybe it should not be “be happy” but STRIVE to be HAPPY. How are they different?

Being happy is saying, “No biggie. Life’s still happy.”

Striving to be happy is saying, “Life’s a bitch. It is surely cruel. I am devastated. But I will live to deal with more of them. I will not escape. I will not end my life even if doing so feels so right. I will take joy in moments I am able to breathe but will live through the moments I am suffocated which usually is most of the times.”

Where is the happiness in the latter? Oh it’s there. It’s really there. Didn’t you still choose to live? To go against the tide? Why did you choose to live anyway?



Sooner, the wind will come to blow.

When you know that, you are striving to be happy then be happy. You cannot declare yourself happy without striving to be happy. Otherwise, you are deceiving yourself. Happiness doesn’t stay in one place all the time. It tours around the world. You have to catch up with its busy schedule. It doesn’t come to you, instead you go to it.

So walk your dog now. When you come back, do not hesitate to read and learn the negativities the world has just discovered or is recycling. Do not dodge. This already is choosing to live.

Strive to be happy.

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Teacher’s Pet and Students’ Bet

Do not raise your hand because everybody's raising theirs. It's a matter of life and death.

Do not raise your hand because everybody’s raising theirs. It’s a matter of life and death.

When I was a student I wanted to be my every teacher’s pet. Gaining that title meant joining a rat race unless you were genuinely awesome in every way, A+ plus student and dependable. In short you are smart enough to erase the writings on the chalkboard/whiteboard/blackboard without the teacher asking you to do so. Smart enough also to know when to do so. A+ because you think logically, you observe. You are keen enough to see when the teacher needs a clean space to doodle on the board. Dependable because you can be depended upon as a caretaker of the eraser, you know how to put it in good use. I wasn’t that kind. I wanted my teacher to like me because I am  a natural. Naturally good, naturally awesome. Well except in Math. Sixth grade taught me that Math is not an endeavor I will ever conquer.

Anyway, I viewed my teachers as people who enslave kids to make their work easier. I did tasks which I didn’t do at home. Scrub and map the floor. Clean the toilet bowl and the bathroom. Sweep the dried leaves in the yard. Wipe the jalousie. Water the plants. Empty the trash bins. If you cannot do these things properly, your “naturally good, naturally awesome” doesn’t count at all. You are no candidate for teacher’s pet. So I had to join the rat race. I became an “A+ and dependable” pupil. Surprisingly, I owned it. I didn’t do my job because there was an audience to please but because I actually felt responsible. Still, I didn’t win the race. I remained an ordinary kid.

In college, I finally won. I encoded a final exam which I had to take. I owe it to my Mr. McLaughlin for making me a speedy typist. 65wpm. That’s words per (freaking) minute. The exam was hours away. It was conducted to my classmates while I had to do essay. Sweet life. I lead the class. Had their clearances signed. Library cards signed. Teacher’s handouts photocopied. Attended consultative meetings which lasted ’til 9PM. Less sweeter life.

I may have become the teacher’s pet but I have lost my “naturally good, naturally awesome”. Then, I was reminded that teachers are slave masters. I kinda despised my teacher for making my life more miserable than the others in class. If the dimwits in class were given such responsibility, they would’ve been stripped of being dimwits. But of course, teachers would assign the task to those who will get it done soon, with less supervision. Teachers have their ways to make their lives easier and ours awful.

Unbelievably wicked though, I ended up becoming one of them slave masters. I can see now why they would designate work among the students. It isn’t solely for easier life but for those self-proclaimed omniscient adolescents to have in them a sense of responsibility. I can see also that a teacher’s toils are never easy and ceasing. Some even have to work harder to become students’ bet. I do not want to be that. I do not want to regain my “naturally good, naturally awesome”. Once I do, the “dimwits” will once again rule the world. Them with easy lives.  Once you become the student’s bet, you become the school’s pet. I hope you know what I mean. I don’t want to elaborate. I don’t need to be more unethical than I already am.

Meanwhile, I believe for other countries whose students do not need to clean their classrooms and its surroundings, the teacher’s pet live a less hellish life. While the students’ bet really needs to do so much to cope with the children’s needs. Though no matter how difficult it is to a teacher’s pet, may he be a stuck up trying hard fool or justteachers_pet063 (1) be a batman responsible for everyone, I still recommend being one. There are so many learning opportunities at stake. And if in case you decide to be a teacher, you do not need to work hard to motivate the children and have them like you. You just need to remember that you were once a student. Whatever the differences are in your generation from today, one fact still remains common. It is that whoever is subjected under the teacher’s care is called a student.

A student yearns for an easy life. Letting them work and sweat is letting them understand responsibility. They should learn that an easy life is earned and not laid out for them.

Teachers should not work for the approval of their students. Or designate work to ease out their load. It isn’t teaching responsibility. It is making them hate it. Students should understand why they work and what are the ends of their hardwork. This already is a tough job. Students may not approve of you because as I said adolescents believe they are  omniscient. Someday, they will understand and they don’t have to be a teacher to be able to open their minds. One more thing, teachers should refrain from trying to be everybody’s favorite since they adhere to everybody’s whims. This isn’t how students’ bet should be.

Nothing should be easy, student or teacher one may be. Otherwise, it must be truly nothing. Inessential and meaningless nothingness.

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