On Studying

Studying can be likened with the process dying and rising again as a new being. It is comparable with the death of a phoenix, ushering new life as it crosses the threshold of a death from an old life.

Death. It was then in the middle of the school year, when the district supervisor visited our elementary school. All of us students were curious as to who she was and what was the purpose of her visit. We were been informed two days before visit that she would be observing some classes in our school. In addition to that , she would randomly picked student from the said classes. And the students would be asked to read in front of the class. Our teacher informed us that our class is one of those which were chosen to be observed by the supervisor. There was a fear evident in our face, upon hearing such news, though a score felt proud and even picked their book pretending to be preparing for the said visit. I felt afraid. I might be asked to read from our books. Truly, that time, I felt afraid, for I do not know how to read.

Yes, at grade two, letters did not make any sense to me. All I knew then is to play all day in the school. As a child, I enjoyed much time looking on photographs and illustrations in the books at home. More so, in my early years of schooling, I found it to be more amusing to go to our rice paddies and observe the clouds forming various figures and planes. As a young student, reading was not my interest. Thus, when came the news of the superior, I trembled, out of fear and in anticipation for the shame I would be procuring.

Days passed, and she came to school. With her bag hanging on her shoulders, she walked gentle through the pathways leading to the principal’s office. And the bell rang, and all students were asked to go back to their rooms. The moment of truth had arrived. As we were neatly seated on our seats, our adviser came in and gave some last minute instructions. We listened attentively to her. And when she was above to leave, she called me. I walked toward her. She led me outside the classroom and talked to me. She informed me that I would be transferred to the other section for the mean time. Saying that I might be called by the supervisor, she held me in my shouldered and gently guided me to the other section. That walked to the next room, to the next class seemed to be eternity for me. With my classmates looking at me, some even laughing, I thought to myself, what a shame, more shameful than being caught unable to read the text from a book. I would like to go home then. I would like to be with parents, persons whom surely would embrace me even if I did not know how to read. Death.

As a consolation, my adviser informed me that the visit of the adviser would last for only thirty minutes. After such, I may join the class again. In my thirty minute. While crying and tears running from my eyes, I nodded, though inside of me I would like simply to go home. In that span of thirty minutes, I thought a lot of my father and mother, how hard they work day and night to provide something for me, to send me to the school. And despite all their labours, would I return such favour with this shameful event? All these sentimental images of my father and mother working in the fields and dusty classrooms came into my mind, circling for thirty agonizing minutes. I kept crying and thinking of them. I did not care whether some of the students were looking at me. All I thought then is that my parents did not deserve such. No one deserves such. After the visit of the supervisor, my adviser fetched me from the other class. I dried my tears and tried to fixed my shirt wet with tears and sweat. On our way back to my class, I told myself “This will never happen again.” Going back to my seat in our classroom, some of my classmates teased me, while others seemed to be indifferent.  Seating neatly on my seat and the class resumed, everything seemed to be back to normal, but inside of me, I know, things will never be the same again. New Life.

At grade three, I was transferred to a lower section. That I accepted as a challenge and opportunity. It was a challenge to be a better student. I learned and strove to die from my own caprices and whims. I spent more time reading and reviewing our lessons. I opted to watch educational and instructional shows than cartoons. It was an opportunity to be close to my parents and to know more about my new classmates. It was then that I started asking by mother for help regarding my homework. I also thought of consulting my siblings and their notes. That year was filled with encounters with new friends. I began to befriend my neighbours whom before I took no notice of their presence.

That year became one of the most formative years in my life. I gained confidence in the class which I never had before. I confirmed the love my family have for me. I learned to be a son, brother and a friend to the people around me, to people in my life. Most of all, I learned how to be a student. I learned how to read.

One of the most compelling stages of learning is the process of dying in order to give birth to a new being, to a new life. As we study, we give up many things to have enough strength to focus on our lessons. We give-up some night outs and gimiks with our barkadas to spent more hours burning the midnight oil. We give-up execessive eating and drinking as these too often distracts us (asceticism). We give-up many things to give-in to the demands of our studies. We muster sufficient courage to face and accept the realities of lives regarding our capabilities, things within and without our control.  In studying, we die from many things and to our very own self in exchange for lessons to be learned, experiences to be treasured. 

There can be no other momentous event in our study life than to our birth to new life. Such rebirth may not involve life changing events, though most real learning experiences are life changing. The acquisition of knowledge about a new thing can be an occasion for to be born again in such respect. From the death of giving-ups, self-denial, and confrontation with one’s self, we are able to rise from the ashes of the past to a new life, ever ready to face the challenge that may come ahead of us, afraid for the process dying in learning had armed with the appropriate instruments and lessons in life that we will need.