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Update on my so called teacher’s “Life”

Dear reader,

It’s been some time since my last post, and I apologize for the lapse. My schedule has been, as ever, demanding. It seems that for every task I complete, two more appear in its place, creating a never-ending cycle of responsibilities. So, please forgive my lack of updates on the happenings of my life.

In November 2021, I achieved a significant milestone—I received my permanent teaching license in Thailand from the Teacher’s Council, also known as Khrusapa. This accomplishment followed the completion of a one-year Teaching course in 2020, which was necessary to earn my teaching credentials. Unfortunately, the process was prolonged due to the disruptions caused by the COVID-19 pandemic. When I finally viewed the PDF copy of my license certificate on the Khrusapa website, a profound sense of relief washed over me. It felt as though a tremendous weight had been lifted from my shoulders. Securing this license means I can continue my role as a teacher at my current school.

The coveted permanent Thai teacher’s license, renewable every five years

In September 2022, there was news of a Special License Exam for Teachers (SPLET) in Bangkok. Usually, having a teaching license from the Philippines is enough to get one in Thailand, so I didn’t really need to apply. I wasn’t planning on teaching back home anyway. But I thought having licenses from both places would look pretty cool on my resume, so I signed up for the LET exams.

I started studying right away, using some review materials from a friend and the internet. I made an online quiz to practice over and over until I knew the General Education and Professional Education parts of the exam inside out. But, as always, life got in the way. With school events and grading to do, I barely had time to study for the English major part of the exam. I had this gut feeling that I wouldn’t pass and would have to retake it in 2023.

When exam day came in Bangkok, I was feeling pretty down. I messed up the timing for the first part because I mixed up Philippine and Thai time, and I was taking too long on each question. When I realized that mistake, I rushed through the rest of the questions as fast as I could. I was the last examinee to finish the first part. After that mistake, I lost all hope of passing the LET exams that year. I was so anxious; I even got lose bowel movement and had to spend more than five minutes in the toilet during the exam. I did okay in the second part, but the last part, the English major exam, was a disaster. Many questions, primarily related to the technical and theoretical aspects of teaching English, were answered with my uncertainty.

Preparing for the exams in Ekamai International School, Bangkok before 7AM

It rained when I finished the exam. Such drama and perfect timing. I said to myself that I would do better next year. I expected to fail.

It did not worry me that much after that, as I was not really depending on passing the LET exams. I signed up for it in a whim. So I said, “Que sera sera, whatever will be, will be.”

However, I was surprised in December of that year when they announced the list of LET exam passers. I was one of them. The feeling was bittersweet though because I did not really expect to pass. For some reason I wanted to take the exam again because I felt that the 81% rating I received was not enough. If I had only prepared for the exam properly, I could have gotten above 90%. So it seems that I am stuck with such a mediocre rating.

In March 2023, I joined the synchronized online oath-taking for professional teachers. The next step is to register and get my license. But this has to be done in person at a PRC office in the Philippines. So that would be one of the to-do-things I would need to get done as soon as I return.

Finally, in April I signed up for a Master’s of Arts in Education degree course specializing in English at National University of the Philippines in Laguna. They offered the course online and at a surprisingly affordable tuition. As of writing, I am currently on my 2nd trimester into the course out of five trimesters.

How’s that for an update.

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My Papa

When I was so young, around 2-4 years old, I fondly remember that I used to wake up early in the morning around 5am-6am and I would walk down the stairs of our big old house in Marasbaras, Tacloban city, and I would go directly to the home office of my grandfather, whom we called “Papa”, who was already awake and busy typing away on the typewriter. When he saw me, he would greet me good morning and place me up on his lap while he smooched my cheeks with his grainy unshaven stubbly face. I remember this experience many times for I was always looking forward to seeing him first early in the morning despite trying to avoid his stubble-filled smooches. After the morning ritual of affection, I would then start rummaging through his office for anything a young kid my age at that time would find interesting, and he would then chide on me to not make a mess in his working space.

I remember walking into a court session in the old courthouse in Candahug, Palo, where he was the presiding judge. I was so oblivious to what was going on and I remember being pulled away from the courtroom by my grandmother, who found out I started exploring inside the building.

In my prepubescent years, I loved to watch Beavis and Butthead on MTV but the show came on around midnight. But during nights when he was at our old home after staying for some days in Samar with his second wife, He would come out sometime before or after midnight with a flashlight to roam and check the house. It was a habit for him, for he loved the big house despite it being rundown after years of neglect. Sometimes, when I was watching TV in the living room waiting for the show to come on, I had to switch it off and hide somewhere (like under the sofa), the moment I hear him going out of his room to do his rounds. I would hope not to get caught staying up late watching TV at night by him, or else get some tongue lashing the day after.

He helped me land my first job as a radio Disc Jockey. I guess he wanted me to learn how to work and study college and become hardworking and successful as he was. Unfortunately, I regret failing him. He wanted me to become a doctor but I dropped out of Medical school because I later on realized that it was not something I wanted to do. But I learned to put myself through college and finish it the hard way.

My last memories of him was when he was on his deathbed in UERM hospital. I was in my late teens and spent a night in the suite with my brother. He could barely talk and breathe. He would have bouts of bad coughs in the middle of the night and I felt so sorry for the pain he was going through. He died a few days later.

Then I saw this old article on him posted on facebook some months ago, so today I decided to share it here with this short blog post with some of the memories I have of him.

Judge Fortunato Cuna article
Judge Fortunato Babali Cuna
February 7, 1917 – August 19, 2000

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Mano Noli :(

Rest in Peace Mano Noli Aurillo.

You were a big influence in my life.

Without you, I would have never learned how to play guitar, discover my love for music and empower me with a skill that would last a lifetime. Those afternoons at your home at Juan Luna when I was a teenager were unforgettable, for after each guitar lesson I had with you, you would always perform your magical skills on the guitar just for me. Playing songs that I knew, but in the most wildest, unique and mind-blowing way possible.

It was your passion for music that inspired me to continue playing humbly, finding new friends with the same love for music, which allowed me to grow, perform and create music with them.

You shared with me your quirky and witty philosophies, some magic tricks here and there, and you spoke your mind without restraint. You were more than excellent to me.

For me, you were a guitar legend more larger in life than Vai and Satriani combined.We will miss you, your crazy and eclectic antics, your art and most of all, your music.

Rock in Peace Mano Noli. 😔😔😔

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Dad :(

My fondest memories of Dad was when I used to drive him around for his therapy or for some errands. He would talk to me just about anything that crossed his mind and insert a subtle joke here and there, and showed me some directions to certain places.

My dad always tried to make the best of anything despite his disability and limitations. He was an avid numismatist, and kept himself busy with a variety of other things. We would even bet on horseraces sometimes just to try our luck.
I’m sad because the last time I visited him was a few years ago. He was at his happiest seeing his grandchildren, even for the shortest time.
After today I realized that Time is indeed limited. And I regret not being able to make time for him because of the distance.
I will miss you Dad.

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My little story on Ivor B’s song “Tahong ni Carla”

(My musician friends told me some time ago that the Pinoy novelty singer and songwriter Ivor B passed on when Typhoon Haiyan (Yolanda) devastated my home province, Leyte in November 8, 2013. Many friends and acquaintances lost their lives due to the deadly storm surge that came with the typhoon.)

The first time I met Ivor he was a nobody. He was tall, dark and determined. He was wearing a white shirt and cargo shorts and sandals. This was sometime in 2003. I was working as the Production Chief and head Disc Jockey in MOR 94.3 Tacloban, a regional radio station of ABS-CBN. Our security guard barged into the DJ’s booth and said that there was a guy outside wanting to speak to me about his music. I took a glance at Ivor from the glass window as I stood up from the deejay’s chair, then went out to the lobby to meet him.

I remember him handing over a cassette tape to me. He said he is a struggling songwriter and he composed a song with his electronic keyboard. He asked if it was okay to play his song on our radio station. I was a bit skeptical of his creation since it was on tape. At that time cassette tapes were getting obsolete. I politely told him that I would have to review the quality of the song first and see if it was up to certain standards. I asked Ivor to wait in the lobby and took the tape to the radio station’s recording room where there was a professional cassette player. I played and listened to it with headphones on and cringed.

I cringed because during that time, I was also a musician in the struggling but active local ïndie music scene in our city, a bassist for some alternative rock bands that consisted of close friends, and we would often get together and support our colleagues in the city by patronizing local rock concerts and events. So I would recognize some people in the local music scene, but Ivor wasn’t one of them. Also during that time, many us local musicians were already producing our own music by going to Cebu and having our songs recorded in semi-professional (and affordable) recording studios. Tacloban had no known recording studio then. Recording was already digital and we had our original songs burned on CD.

Ivor’s song was not the type of music that I liked, I must admit, but in the “service of the Filipino” I had to at least try to help the guy out because I knew that he was serious about his song. The song that was on the tape was “Tahong ni Karla,” (Karla’s Mussel) a funny novelty song with some sexual innuendoes, with a Karla and not Carla, as I remember it was handwritten on the cassette tape label. It was rough and heavy on the static noise. I surmised that he played his keyboard and sang and recorded his performance DIY style using a tape recorder. It was in mono, not stereo. I am sure his first recording was homemade with love, but back then when I first listened to it, it was absolutely horrible and not of broadcast quality, and also not my type of music. So I cringed.

After listening to it for a couple minutes, I went back to him, returned his tape and told him the truth about his creation, but kept my musical preference to myself of course. I told him that it needed to be of good and clear quality for it to be approved by our station manager for airing and he is welcome to come back so I can review it again. I saw how disappointed Ivor was as he left. I thought to myself, that he wouldn’t come back and that he would go to other radio stations and most likely also get rejected and then probably give up after that.

I was so wrong.

A few weeks later, I arrived at the station and saw Ivor waiting at the lobby. I greeted him and asked what he did to improve his song. He said he recorded it again and made sure the quality is better and the tape was already being previewed by our station manager. I was amazed at his response and went in the station only to find out it was actually being previewed in the recording room by the late Mano Waway (Ad Roel Alcober), our local TV Patrol News Department head. I can never forget the smile on Mano Way’s face as he played the song on speaker and he swayed his upper body to the music as he sat on the chair. I spoke to him about how Ivor initially came to me with his song. Mano Waway said he liked the song and the lyrics but doubted it would pass our Station Manager’s approval to have it aired. It still was a home recording, and the quality was still bad despite a few improvements with the clarity. I told Mano Waway that I felt uneasy if I was to reject Ivor the second time. So he said he would bring Ivor to the Station Manager’s office to show at least that we are trying to help.
So Ivor met our Station Manager, spoke with him and Mano Waway. I asked not to be involved because I had to go on duty for my radio program. It took only less than ten minutes, when I saw Ivor going out of the Station Manager’s office, heading back to the lobby. He sat down with his face showing disappointment. I went to him and asked how his talk with our boss went, and he said that his song was not approved for airing.

I explained to him about recording studios, and how my band was able to record songs in Cebu for a price. Ivor was interested but he said he could not afford to travel and pay for recording in Cebu. This is when I remembered Jean Paul.

Jean-Paul Verona, one of my closest buddies in high school was the guitarist of one of my bands, Wattsleft, and we recorded our songs in Cebu in 2002. After that recording, he became quite interested in audio recording software. He would visit me at the station sometimes and we would try out some software I downloaded off the internet. I used Cool Edit Pro (Now known as Adobe Audition) to produce our radio stations’ commercials and IDs. But we tried finding a multi-track recording software better than Cool Edit and he ended up using a software he found on his own. With just an assembled PC and home stereo equipment, he was able to set up a mini recording studio in his own bedroom. With his talent and ear for music, he developed great skill for producing and recording music. Today he is a professional Sound Engineer and Producer (Ben & Ben!). Back in 2003, he was already recording and producing music for election campaign jingles.

So I told Ivor about my buddy Jean Paul. I gave him his number and said that Jean Paul might be able to help him with getting his song recorded in broadcast standard probably for an affordable price.
I bade him good luck and that was the last time I spoke with him.

Fast forward a few months later, I hear Ivor’s song blasting on the radio of a jeepney I was riding on, for the first time. It was a clear, catchy and appealing version recorded and produced by Jean Paul in his home studio. Jean Paul did an awesome job and gave Ivor’s song some justice. But this was being aired on Love Radio, not on the radio station I worked for. I guess Ivor probably got so disappointed with the rejection by our radio station, that he went to another one instead with the new and improved recording of his song.

I was not at all disappointed by that, in fact I was happy that I was able to help by referring him to a friend. Little did I know that the song would become a hit on the radio which eventually landed him a recording deal, allowing him to rerecord the song again in a professional studio.

Today, Ivor’s song lives on beyond its creator and is covered, remixed and played in radio stations and dance clubs all over the country. Whenever I hear it, I would always remember Ivor’s determination as struggling musician.

The Youtube video below contains Ivor B’s original Tahong ni Carla song recorded in Jean Paul’s home studio in 2003.