While soldiers watched their flock by night

(Part II of “Training The Child’s Poetic Mind”)

The teenagers’ intelligence wanes and weakens, according to Dottoressa Maria Montessori, as compared to the enormous reasoning power of the 7s to the 12s, to give way to emotional maturation and idealistic aspirations.

To channel or give expression to these aspirations and the idealism of our young people, Mrs. Mercy Soliven-David has been coming to the Philippines from New Jersey for the past 20 years to coach students from preschool to high school in the four OB Montessori branches in poetry recitation and elocution. At the end of their coaching sessions, they compete in the Poetry Festival and Elocution Contest per level at their respective branches.

Bringing their skill beyond the four walls of the school

Two of our high school alumni relate their experiences with Mrs. Mercy David and how they are enjoying in their careers the fruits of their coaching sessions: (A) JILL SANTOS of IBM Philippines, Inc. has handled IBM Power Systems and IBM Storage Solutions for cross industries, large enterprises, etc. She was the valedictorian of class 2004. She now relates, “I was coached by Mrs. David in my senior year at OBMC Greenhills. Her father, Assemblyman Benito Soliven, was a well-known orator from whom she acquired her love for poetry and elocution.

“Hers was not an easy task as she had to attend to children from grade school to high school in all four branches. Though she would be losing her voice, she would personally take the time to get to know the students and coach them individually – piece by piece, line by line. She knew each piece by heart.

“I lacked the experience to deliver poetry. As a 12-year-old, she helped me to understand what each line meant and stirred up my emotions on how it should be delivered. At the same time, she welcomed the student’s individuality and allowed us to add our own personal touch to our performance. In retrospect, the coaching of Mrs. David was not just a preparation for my contest performance but for my performance in the years to come after high school. It helped me conquer my fear of being on stage and expressing myself in front of a huge crowd. Now that I am in the corporate world, I have been able to use my training with her to conduct speaking engagements and various presentations. Being trained by Mrs. David is a singular experience that continues to bear fruit in my life.”

(B) ANTON LAQUINDANUM is the Chief Finance Officer of the Australian and New Zealand Bank, who was educated at O.B. Montessori Center from preschool to professional high school, graduating in 1994.  “I still remember the first time we worked together. She gave me a sheet of paper with a poem on it. I recall how she talked me through it, explaining to me what it meant and noting the places where I should pause. I was surprised that, in many cases, I needed to take short pauses before coming to the periods.

“She explained to me that it was important for me not to rush through the piece. I needed to let the audience catch up with what I had just said, to take it in, to understand it, and to appreciate it. It was a conversation. It wasn’t just me reading through something. It was my attempt to communicate something. So by pausing at the right places, I could emphasize the most important things that I wanted to convey. And ever since that day, rather than reading my ideas to audiences, I’ve been communicating them.”

In her collection of memorable poetry and elocution pieces which Mrs. David would assign to students of all ages for the yearly OBMC Poetry and Elocution Festival, she has a total of 108 poems and 120 excerpts written by her brother, Maximo V. Soliven. Below is a sample piece of his work:

‘While Soldiers Watched Their Flock By Night…’ by Maximo V. Soliven (2014 winning piece delivered by Clarence Raymond Castillo)

To borrow that unforgettable opening line from Charles Dickens’ “Tale of Two Cities” when Jesus was born, “It was the best of times; it was the worst of times.” He came into the world as a child to save mankind. He was called the “Prince of Peace,” and yet, from the moment He was born, men were sent out to hunt Him down and kill Him. The Greatest Story Ever Told almost ended up as a murder story.

How much the chaotic and desperate world of today was the era into which the Christ Child was born! Joseph and Mary had journeyed to Bethlehem by government edict to register for tax purposes. They couldn’t find a place to stay, and so, like the poor of the streets they sought shelter where they could find it – not under a bridge or in squatters’ jungle, but as it happened in a cave.

The rest, all Christians know by heart. And this is what is wrong with modern Christmas. It has become so routine… we have Christmas parties… gift-giving, the Midnight Masses, and finally the “Noche Buena.”

When Christmas degenerates into a ritual, even worse, a ritual duty, and when we begin to notice ourselves observing Christmas without Christianity, it is time we reviewed our priorities. The essayist and novelist, Robert Louis Stevenson, once quipped – “There is not duty we so much underrate as the duty of being happy.”

Many years ago, my wife and I visited the Holy Land for the first time, scheduling our trip for the Christmas season, in quest to recapture the spirit of Christmas. It was, in a sense, a disappointment; for Christmas had been grossly commercialized in the Shepherd’s Fields, where once the Herald Angels appeared to sing of the Birth. Souvenir shops were gouging the pilgrims and cynically exploiting the tourist dollar.

The cave of the Nativity had been overbuilt into an ornate chapel, gleaming with marble and silver. There was no longer any real cave, but the aspect of a mausoleum. And the priests of various Christian faiths – Roman Catholic, Protestant, Orthodox Armenian, were squabbling over which portion belonged to them.

In earlier days, there were Jordanian policemen and Muslim of course guarding the Nativity shrine and next-door Church, to make sure the Christians didn’t cut each others’ throats. When Israel conquered the area in the Six-Day War, the Jordanian policemen were replaced by Israelite policemen. Midnight Mass in Bethlehem turned out to be chaotic. The church was packed and a huge crowd outside tried to push their way in. Fistfights erupted.

In the chilly night, huddled in our heavy wool coats, we shed tears of frustration. We looked up and espied the Christmas Star, shining serenely as it did 2,000 years ago. The Star seemed to say to us – Christmas is not here – it is in your hearts! Ladies and Gentlemen, let’s make it so!”

‘A Borderless World’ by columnist Patricia Evangelista (2014 second winning piece delivered by Joyce Chloe Ribuyaco)

When I was little, I wanted what many Filipino children all over the country wanted. I wanted to be blond, blue-eyed and white. I thought – if I just wished hard enough and was good enough, I’d wake up on Christmas morning with snow outside my window and freckles across my nose!

More than four centuries under western domination can do that to you. I have 16 cousins. In a couple of years, there will just be five of us left in the Philippines, the rest will have gone abroad in search of “greener pastures.” It’s not an anomaly; it’s a trend; the Filipino Diaspora. Today, about eight million Filipinos are scattered around the world.

There are those who disapprove of Filipinos who choose to leave. I used to. Maybe this is natural reaction of someone who was left behind, smiling for family pictures that get emptier with each succeeding year. Desertion, I called it. My country is a land that has perpetually fought for the freedom to be itself. Our heroes offered their lives in the struggle against the Spanish, the Americans, the Japanese. To pack up deny that identity is tantamount to spitting on that sacrifice. Or is it? I don’t think so. Not anymore.

Ladies and Gentlemen,

True, there is no denying this phenomenon, aided by the fact that what was once the other side of the world is now a 12-hour plane ride away. But this is a borderless world, where no individual can claim to be purely from where he is now. My mother is of Chinese descent, my father is a quarter Spanish, and I call myself a pure Filipino – a hybrid of sorts resulting from a combination of cultures.

Each square mile anywhere in the world is made up of people of different ethnicities, with national identities and individual personalities. Because of this, each square mile is already a microcosm of the world. In as much as this blessed spot that is England is the world, so is my neighborhood back home.

Seen this way, the Filipino Diaspora, or any sort of dispersal of populations, is not as ominous as so many claim. It must be understood. I come from a Third World country, one that is still trying mightily to get back on its feet after many years of dictatorship. But we shall make it, given more time. Especially now, when we have thousands of eager young minds who graduate from college every year. They have skills. They need jobs. We cannot absorb them all.

A borderless world presents a bigger opportunity, yet one that is not so much abandonment but an extension of identity. Even as we take, we give back. We are the 40,000 skilled nurses who support the United Kingdom’s National Health Service. We are quarter-of-a-million seafarers manning most of the world’s commercial ships. We are your software engineers in Ireland, your construction workers in the Middle East, your doctors and caregivers in North America, and your musical artists in London’s West End.

But I am coming home

Leaving sometimes isn’t a matter of choice. It’s coming back that is. The Hobbits of the shire traveled all over Middle-Earth, but they chose to come home, richer in every sense of the word. We call people like these ‘balikbayans’ or the “returnees” – those who followed their dream, yet choose to return and share their mature talents and good fortune.

In a few years, I may take advantage of whatever opportunities that come my way. But I will come home. A borderless world doesn’t preclude the idea of a home. I’m a Filipino, and I’ll always be one. It isn’t about geography; it isn’t about boundaries. It’s about giving back to the country that shaped me.

And that’s going to be more important to me than seeing snow outside my window on a bright Christmas morning!

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