Game-changers

It was in a blue tricycle, with its engine roaring throughout the twists and turns of a bumpy road, that a sudden realization hit me like a searing ray of sunlight between the eyes: I have to teach this to my children.

“This” pertains to the gruesome and tiring challenge that is commuting within the busy streets of Metro Manila. Being new to the whole ordeal myself, I felt the need to salute every civilian who has ever had to endure the pollution, heat, and overall discomfort that come with needing to go to and from places without owning a private vehicle. And so, as I felt the dust settle on my pores during that tricycle ride, I thought: “My kids have to be prepared to commute. They have to be familiar with the routes we would take, and the vehicles that they would have to board to get from point A to point B.”

I was so eager to lecture these fictional children on the unparalleled hardships of commuting in our country that I almost grabbed my phone and dialed our fictional home number.

Sometimes, catching myself in the middle of thoughts like this makes me nervous. I’m not even in college yet.

Despite having that idea, however, I would not force it upon my children. I imagine that every parent wishes to provide their offspring with as much of a leisurely life as they deserve, and I know that, in the future, I could, too. All I could want is for them to be prepared to fend for themselves outside of our house if there ever comes a time when I would not be able to be there for them. I could want them to be able to comprehend and cope with the complexities that surround modern transport, as well as virtually everything else in what has become our world today.

In other words, I just want to point them toward the path of surviving in the jungle that is the 21st century, and hope that they don’t stay down when they stumble on the way.

This is because I witnessed things during that brief tricycle ride that have once again made me conscious of harsh realities. There are people who, when they fall down on that path, never find the courage to get back up. Every day we see them out on the streets in gray, ratty clothes, begging for spare change, and doomed to lead the life that their parents had before them. And most are barely five feet tall.

I see them, mourn with or for them, but then, like other times before, I would shift my gaze until they are out of sight and, therefore (as they say), out of mind. Although I am aware of the fact that I am not the only one who does this, I would still feel the word “coward” branding itself on my forehead.

Therefore, aside from the rules of being streetsmart, I could also teach my children to never look away. When they—and I’m sure they will be—are faced with sensitive situations like the one I mentioned, I want them to look closely, and then do four simple things.

First, ask themselves why it may have disturbed them. Is it unnatural? Unjust? Whatever the answer, I want them to hold on to that, because they will need it for the next step, which is to:

Think about how they can make things better. They do not have to worry if they cannot do it themselves just yet, or whether it will debilitate the problem in the long run. I just want them to look at every microscopic detail and find the root cause of the entire predicament. Once a solution has emerged from the depths of their minds, then they may:

Make ideas tangible. Now that they think they know what to do, then I could urge them do it. If they are not capable yet, I could tell them to learn about and experience the world around them until eventually, they are. But the last and most important step to be taught is to:

Never lose inspiration. Knowing what to do would not matter if they don’t have the genuine drive to do it. I could want them to think about the upturned frowns that will result from the absence of suffering, and keep in mind the futures that might be saved.

These may be a lot to ask of mere children. But we will be amazed at the revolutionary changes they may initiate once they utilize their own power for the good and, before anything else, once we acknowledge it.

I admit, I have high expectations of the children that I could have. But who else can we trust to protect the fire that the likes of Bonifacio and Rizal ignited for our nation but our own flesh and blood?

Setting aside everything I have said so far, I know that we’re still talking about children, and I could want to give them the life that I think they deserve. This is why I could possibly teach them how to be old-fashioned.

I wish they would be old-fashioned with respect to their education, first and foremost. I want them to value and marvel at the facts, dates and bucket-load of information that are presented to them in school. Most of all, I want them to make good use of their knowledge. I would want them to be unapologetic in satisfying their curiosity; in turn, I could let them explore Earth in all its beauty and inscrutable mysteries, as long as it is within reason.

In dealing with people, I would want them to be old-fashioned as well, and with this comes the observance of Filipino culture. I want them to say “po” or “opo,” know why they are saying it, and know who to say it to. I want them to have intelligent conversations over authentic meals instead of over the Internet. I want them to mimic all that is good in the history of Pinoy society while still appreciating and being part of modernity.

But above anything else, I wish they would revel in their youth. I want to tell them:

“Go and exhaust your talents! Chase your dreams! Wear out your passions! I will protect you from harm, but you will experience rejection and heartbreak; may these fuel your drive to be a better person with every passing day. Respect those who deserve it, have faith in your beliefs, be humble in your success, and never let your insecurities eat you up alive. Learn to love your heritage, your nation, and know that there is power in doing so.”

Trite as it may sound, these ideal children are the future of a nation still struggling to solidify its identity. And with fantasizing aside, the reality is that we—the Filipino youth of today—have the very power and capabilities that I’ve been talking about all this time.

If we fail to initiate and uphold change in our lifetime, we still can through our possible future children, in theirs. I genuinely want to do my part in raising people like the ones I have characterized. Due to the given circumstances, however, I would just have to accomplish all that my future children could have done myself, right now, in my generation.

They could have been my legacy—which is a shame, really.

If only I wanted kids.

Diana Marie Bautista, 15, is an incoming fourth year student at St. Scholastica’s College, Manila.