Teaching success

How do you teach success?

In the editorial of today's Inquirer, the theory was presented: Filipinos should be taught how to be employers, instead of employees.

Easier said than done.

How exactly do you teach a people how to think for themselves? How to analyze objectively, without looking around for someone else to blame their plight on? Seems to me that it's not just entrepreneurial skills that the Filipino needs to learn.

The entire collective values system needs to be overhauled.

I don't know what it is that makes taking one's life in one's hands so terrifying. Is it the faith in a god who's supposed to be deciding what happens to a person's life? Fate, as understood by the Filipino, makes him a hapless, helpless creature of a supreme being. For him to learn success, he would have to unlearn dependence and patronage, be it on a god or a government.

The following is an excerpt. The full text can be found here.

Editorial : Wanted: employers
Inquirer
Posted date: November 27, 2006

IT MAY BE NO COINCIDENCE THAT ONE OF THE top two winners in the annual Microentrepreneur of the Year Awards, sponsored by the global banking giant Citigroup, did not finish her schooling. Or that the other top winner had to earn a living—as a maid—while going to school. The country’s educational system is still designed to produce employees, not future employers.

The experiences of Jennilyn Antonio of Sta. Rosa, Laguna and Consuelo Valenzuela of Baler, Aurora, however, make for excellent case studies in graduate school and for inspirational lessons for elementary and high school students.

The two women were chosen as this year’s best microentrepreneurs after a rigorous search by Citigroup and tight screening by a panel of distinguished business leaders. Antonio won first prize in the “Maunlad” category, for creating from scratch a peanut butter brand patronized by bakery chains; Valenzuela won first prize in the “Masikap” category for founding a handicrafts business using “sabutan” leaves.

What they have in common with each other and with eight regional winners is a sustainable business funded by micro-loans. A rural bank helped Antonio, for instance, while Alalay sa Kaunlaran Inc., a microfinance enterprise, extended four loans to Valenzuela.

The results: Antonio’s company sells P3.6 million worth of peanut butter a year; last year, it earned a net profit of half a million. Valenzuela sold sabutan-made products worth P500,000 last year, earning a tidy profit of P180,000. In all instances, the winners met the most stringent of all criteria: a 100-percent rate of repayment on their micro-loans.

Toilets

After writing that entry last night, I rested my head on my arms and cried. Quietly, so as not to alarm my roomies who were both snoring in their beds upstairs.

Disgusted with myself, I took action. I took all the cleaning implements I could find under the sink and attacked the toilets. It was almost midnight and there I was, furiously scrubbing and wiping. There is something to say about how nice Ajax cleansers smell. And they bubble nicely, too. They leave a toilet smelling very clean and fresh.

As a finishing touch, I sprayed Lysol disinfectant all over. This morning, as I went to pee, a smile played on my face as I took in the fresh, clean smell of the toilet. My mom would have been proud. I was happy.

Maybe I should clean the toilets everyday. Or not.

My life is hilarious.

Life as he knows it

For the past few days, over the weekend mostly, I've been wondering about Freddy and his life. Specifically, how I figure in it.

I don’t have any problem with this emotional intimacy thing that OF has gotten into my head. Honestly, I don’t. If only Freddy would behave accordingly.

Last week, I celebrated my birthday. My 43rd, to be exact. I’d invited a few friends to a small dinner and videoke party. (The only thing to have in these here parts.) Of course, I invited Freddy.

That day, after a short meeting at my office between him and me, he confirmed the time.

“We’ll probably be there by 6:30 after work,” I replied, adding that we’ll be staying till late. A friend had offered his pad. “You’re gonna be there, right?”

“Sure,” Freddy answered with his usual confidence. “Unless you don’t want me to.”

I made a joke of his melodrama but he had this look in his eyes like there was something else he very much wanted to say. It was that shy, adorable look he gives me whenever he steals a look at me. I catch him at it sometimes. I wonder what look I have on my face when I do.

Anyway.

Freddy has his own life; I’m not a significant part of it. I’m in this area in his life that’s more the alternative, a corollary to his professional life as a doctor, considering that his medical practice takes precedence over his corporate functions. The latter he can easily drop; he doesn’t need it. And as I’m just a small part of the corollary, even, I’m more of an amusement for him than anything.

I’m being melodramatic myself.

I’m not saying that he doesn’t take me seriously or he has no sincere feelings for me. He does; that much is clear. But should push come to shove, his medical practice comes first. Duh. Of course, as this supports his family and that comes first.

And that’s where the problem lies: I don’t have that. Worse, I don’t have that with him.

Anyway. Moving on.

I’ll be back in school sometime January next year. Whoopee. It seems that the older I get, the greater the need for diversion. At PhP8,000 every six weeks, this management course has got to be the most expensive so far.

Which gets me to thinking: was law school a diversion? No. It was an investment. Didn’t pan out, but it was no diversion. I had dreams built on that one.

I can’t say that I have too many heartaches, but the few that I do have really go deep. I’m afraid that I’ll never get over them.

Freddy’s probably snoring his head off at this very moment, while I’m choking back tears, trying to find solace in words. Sometimes, even these don’t come easy.

I hate falling into the victim paradigm but I don’t think it’s possible to escape it. I wish I could die of a heartache. But no, that would would be the easy way out, wouldn't it? So. Till I pay back my karmic debt or learn my karmic lesson, I'll be blogging here and whining about it.