Believe it or not, August 21st marked the one-year anniversary of my arrival in the Philippines. In honor of that auspicious date, I'd like to devote this post to reflecting on some of the things I've learned over the past year.
Raid is for cowards.
In previous posts I've mentioned the sense of omnipotence one feels while holding a can of Raid over an unsuspecting pest. Many a spider, ant, mosquito, and Filipino mega-cricket have fallen victim to its steady, deadly spray. But recently I've realized that Raid is the ultimate form of passive-aggressive confrontation. I spray poison from a safe distance away while the pest hops around dying a slow, torturous death. This is not only cowardly, it's cruel. (Not to mention the somewhat serious side-effect of poisoning myself, which in the heat of battle seems a small price to pay for vanquishing my enemy, but afterwards makes me think I've knocked five years off my life.)
Case in point: You may recall one of my last posts about the Filipino mega-cricket infestation I suffered from a few months ago. While the mega-crickets have never again returned in such force, I do get one or two flying around every week. But do I run to get my can of Raid? No (and pay attention here - I think this is the best example of my personal growth), I run to get my flip flop. Did you think I was going to say I leave it in peace to live out the rest of its 2-week life cycle? Let's not get crazy, I'm no Mother Teresa. But I do face it, human to pest, and give it a nice quick death with a slap of my flip flop. (And I'd like to point out how this is more dangerous for me as I must get much closer to the cricket and actually risk missing my target, thereby enraging him and having him try to hop on me.) No slow, painful death by poison. And I have the satisfaction of knowing I conquered my fear of the Filipino mega-cricket. (The mega-spider is another matter entirely. If I ever see one of those in my apartment I'll just transfer the lease to him and get him a nice housewarming gift on my way out.)
Reading expands your vocabulary.
Okay, so I've always known that reading expands one's vocabulary. But reading fifty-one books in the past nine months has turned me into quite the wordsmith. (Truly, fifty-one books - I'm keeping track. And not all of those are picture books, either.) I mean, auspicious and omnipotence?! Sure I've known the meaning of those words for some time, but never before would I have dared use them in a blog post! Some new words I've learned recently: sinecure (n., a position requiring little or no work but giving the holder status or financial benefit); venal (adj., showing a susceptibility to bribery); cozen (v., to trick or deceive); vainglorious (adj., showing and inordinate pride in oneself or one's achievements; excessive vanity); calumny (n., a false or slanderous statement).*
*An interesting note: I was trying to think of example sentences for these five words and realized that you can probably work "Sarah Palin" into each of them. Try it, it's fun.**
** An apology to Sarah Palin supporters: Please feel free to substitute the name of your most-detested liberal instead.
Spiders less than 3" in diameter aren't worth my time.
Ah, I remember the days before I came to the Philippines - when I was young and naive, believing that Santa Clause brought presents to all the good girls and boys and that daddy long-legs spiders were scary. Then I got to the Philippines and realized that if Santa tried to deliver presents here his reindeer would spontaneously combust and his sensitive North Pole skin would suffer third-degree sunburn. Oh, and spiders? Daddy long-legs aren't spiders. Daddy long-legs are a cool breeze on a hot day. Daddy long-legs are that first sip of water after trekking 100 miles through the desert. These days I kill daddy long-legs with my bare hands while eating a pb & j sandwich and watching Vampire Diaries. I've been eye to beady eye with a real spider, and he eats daddy long-legs for lunch (literally). So yeah, maybe I'm still mortally afraid of the Filipino mega-spider, but lesser spiders no longer have any power over me. If I worried about every little spider that crossed my path I'd never leave my force field...ehem...mosquito net.
Just because I can speak English doesn't mean I can teach it.
What's that saying? "Those who can't do, teach." Ha! Whoever came up with that little nugget of bullcrap was clearly a bitter, wannabe teacher who failed out of teacher's college after his first semester. I've always been proud of my English skills. I think I speak and write well and I always got high grades in my English and writing classes. And yes, I pride myself on my knowledge of grammar. I mean, I know the proper usage of prepositions, nouns, adjectives, adverbs, and even gerunds and the like. And yes, I understand that "I go" and "they go," but that "she goes." Unfortunately I often find myself unable to figure out how to teach these things. "Because it sounds right" isn't really a rule that helps students who have no idea how it should sound. It has truly been a challenge teaching English. It goes to show that just because you can do, doesn't mean you can teach!
Apart from the difficulty of teaching the substance, the physical act of teaching is exhausting. (Not to mention the effort it takes to avoid being captured by the students' camera phones mid-lecture. C'mon, students, no one likes a sneaky photographer.) Luckily I have a long lunch break so I can go home and nap in between classes. Teachers work hard. They work nights. They work weekends. They get through their classes without employing corporal punishment...or murder. I've grown to believe that a good non-lethal stab wound to the arm or abdomen would do wonders for discipline, but I had trouble getting support for that proposal at the last PTA meeting.
You can live in a tropical climate for a year and still be pasty white.
And yes, I'm referring to me. Sad but true, I'm significantly pastier than when I left the States a year ago. How can this be, you ask. Well, I'd never truly realized it before, but the sun is hot. Really hot. And when you live in a climate where the only seasons are hot, hotter, and core-of-the-sun hot, the last thing you want to do is be in the sun. So I've found that I get less sun here than I did when I was living in the States. I'm inside more than I've ever been, and when I'm outside I'm underneath an umbrella. And if I ever dare to go outside without my umbrella, there's always someone there to force me to share theirs. "I'm trying to get a tan" is not an acceptable reason to be without an umbrella. At least I'll fit in when I return to the States in the middle of the winter.
Diarrhea can become a daily topic of conversation.
When I first arrived here I remember hearing people say that discussions about bowel movements would soon become commonplace. I shuddered at the thought, quite sure that I would never be discussing my intestinal issues with anyone. And now here I am, blogging about them. If I tell my teachers I'm not feeling well they assume I'm having an LBM (loose bowel movement), and everyone contributes to the conversation on how I can firm those up. And yes, Volunteers will occasionally compare their diarrhea stories. I have my own story of how once, a couple of months ago, I almost pooped on a bus. I'll save you the gory details and just say that it got to the point where I was looking at the roadside ditches and thinking, "That one wouldn't be such a bad place to squat!"
So those are some of the lessons I've learned over the past year. I know what you're thinking: "Wow, Britt, you've certainly undergone a great deal of personal growth." I know. I consider my reduced fear of spiders and my new willingness to talk about diarrhea to be great personal accomplishments. I'm glad I could share them with you.
