So I’d be truly remiss if I fail to greet one and all a Happy Valentine’s Day!

Photo Credit: Andie Freeman Photography

This year’s Lakbay Aral had the teachers and administration trooping to nearby Baguio City last June 5-6, not to simply enjoy the cool climate but to experience the thrill of becoming a miner and to immerse themselves in highland culture.

The day started with a visit to Balatoc Mines where the faculty enjoyed a two- hour tour of the old mine site, experiencing even the blasting of a small portion of the tunnel. With the whole group successfully finishing the tour, our efforts were awarded with Certificates of Completion. After the certificates were awarded and another round of picture taking, our group then proceeded to the city proper for a quick lunch and onwards to Tam-awan Village where the SRBCL group savored the crisp mountain air. A hike around the Village, a taste of their fresh organic salad and a strong cup of Baguio coffee gave some of the teachers enough energy to dance a native wedding dance with the native performers in the Village. Little did the teachers know that each dance ended with a generous shot of the highlanders’ native wine. Other tourists and even the natives themselves could not help but laughing at the various expressions that played across the teachers faces as they had their shot of wine.

After a quick tour of the art galleries in the Village and surrounding areas, we then proceeded to an old favorite spot in Baguio – Burnham Park.  A refreshing stroll, a boat ride, a quick trip to the market and a hearty dinner later, it was time for the group to turn in for the night.

The next day after a light breakfast and short walk, the group leisurely explored the grounds of the Manor in Camp John Hay and headed to downtown Baguio to do some shopping. After lunch the group headed for the last stop in their itinerary, Ambuklao Dam. The long ride from Baguio to the dam took all of three hours of steep and winding roads. The travel- weary group mustered enough energy to enjoy and take pictures of the sights of Ambuklao.

Before darkness finally fell, it was time to head back to Baguio and down to Dagupan – a fully packed trip giving all the participants a little taste of everything.

View Lakbay Aral Pictures.

Noted American author and philosopher Sam Keen is quoted as saying that “deep summer is when laziness meets respectability.” That is the excuse for the rather long wait you had before this site was updated, because just like most pupils, teachers too await the coming of summer vacation. It is the best time to unwind, enjoy and grow.

Stress is increasingly felt by teachers and students alike. Every passing school year seems to bring with it an increasing demand on everybody’s time, talent and skills. And one cannot help but feel drained at the end of ten rigorous academic months. The two months of summer vacation is therefore like a fountain that slakes a thirst – a thirst for the outdoors or a burst of creative or physical activity.

So my dear pupils and teachers, enjoy your summer vacation. I know I am.

The Happy Prince
By: Oscar Wilde

HIGH above the city, on a tall column, stood the statue of the Happy Prince. He was gilded all over with thin leaves of fine gold, for eyes he had two bright sapphires, and a large red ruby glowed on his sword-hilt.

He was very much admired indeed. ‘He is as beautiful as a weathercock,’ remarked one of the Town Councilors who wished to gain a reputation for having artistic tastes; ‘only not quite so useful,’ he added, fearing lest people should think him unpractical, which he really was not.

‘Why can’t you be like the Happy Prince?’ asked a sensible mother of her little boy who was crying for the moon. ‘The Happy Prince never dreams of crying for anything.’

‘I am glad there is someone in the world who is quite happy,’ muttered a disappointed man as he gazed at the wonderful statue.

‘He looks just like an angel,’ said the Charity Children as they came out of the cathedral in their bright scarlet cloaks, and their clean white pinafores.

‘How do you know?’ said the Mathematical Master, ‘you have never seen one.’

‘Ah! But we have, in our dreams,’ answered the children; and the Mathematical Master frowned and looked very severe, for he did not approve of children dreaming.

One night there flew over the city a little Swallow. His friends had gone away to Egypt six weeks before, but he had stayed behind, for he was in love with the most beautiful Reed. He had met her early in the spring as he was flying down the river after a big yellow moth, and had been so attracted by her slender waist that he had stopped to talk to her.

‘Shall I love you?’ said the Swallow, who liked to come to the point at once, and the Reed made him a low bow. So he flew round and round her, touching the water with his wings, and making silver ripples. This was his courtship, and it lasted all through the summer.

‘It is a ridiculous attachment,’ twittered the other Swallows, ‘she has no money, and far too many relations;’ and indeed the river was quite full of Reeds. Then, when the autumn came, they all flew away.

After they had gone he felt lonely, and began to tire of his lady-love. ‘She has no conversation,’ he said, ‘and I am afraid that she is a coquette, for she is always flirting with the wind.’ And certainly, whenever the wind blew, the Reed made the most graceful curtsies. ‘I admit that she is domestic,’ he continued, ‘but I love traveling, and my wife, consequently, should love traveling also.’

‘Will you come away with me?’ he said finally to her; but the Reed shook her head, she was so attached to her home.

‘You have been trifling with me,’ he cried, ‘I am off to the Pyramids. Good-bye!’ and he flew away.

All day long he flew, and at night-time he arrived at the city. ‘Where shall I put up?’ he said; ‘I hope the town has made preparations.’

Then he saw the statue on the tall column. ‘I will put up there,’ he cried; ‘it is a fine position with plenty of fresh air.’ So he alighted just between the feet of the Happy Prince.

‘I have a golden bedroom,’ he said softly to himself as he looked round, and he prepared to go to sleep; but just as he was putting his head under his wing a large drop of water fell on him. ‘What a curious thing!’ he cried, ‘there is not a single cloud in the sky, the stars are quite clear and bright, and yet it is raining. The climate in the north of Europe is really dreadful. The Reed used to like the rain, but that was merely her selfishness.’

Then another drop fell.

‘What is the use of a statue if it cannot keep the rain off?’ he said; ‘I must look for a good chimney-pot,’ and he determined to fly away.

But before he had opened his wings, a third drop fell, and he looked up, and saw – Ah! What did he see?

The eyes of the Happy Prince were filled with tears, and tears were running down his golden cheeks. His face was so beautiful in the moonlight that the little Swallow was filled with pity.

‘Who are you?’ he said.

‘I am the Happy Prince.’

‘Why are you weeping then?’ asked the Swallow; ‘you have quite drenched me.’

‘When I was alive and had a human heart,’ answered the statue, ‘I did not know what tears were, for I lived in the palace of Sans-Souci, where sorrow is not allowed to enter. In the daytime I played with my companions in the garden, and in the evening I led the dance in the Great Hall. Round the garden ran a very lofty wall, but I never cared to ask what lay beyond it, everything about me was so beautiful. My courtiers called me the Happy Prince, and happy indeed I was, if pleasure be happiness. So I lived, and so I died. And now that I am dead they have set me up here so high that I can see all the ugliness and all the misery of my city, and though my heart is made of lead yet I cannot choose but weep.’

‘What, is he not solid gold?’ said the Swallow to himself. He was too polite to make any personal remarks out loud.

‘Far away,’ continued the statue in a low musical voice, ‘far away in a little street there is a poor house. One of the windows is open, and through it I can see a woman seated at a table. Her face is thin and worn, and she has coarse, red hands, all pricked by the needle, for she is a seamstress.

She is embroidering passion-flowers on a satin gown for the loveliest of the Queen’s maids-of-honor to wear at the next Court-ball. In a bed in the corner of the room her little boy is lying ill. He has a fever, and is asking for oranges. His mother has nothing to give him but river water, so he is crying. Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow, will you not bring her the ruby out of my sword-hilt? My feet are fastened to this pedestal and I cannot move.’

‘I am waited for in Egypt,’ said the Swallow. ‘My friends are flying up and down the Nile, and talking to the large lotus-flowers. Soon they will go to sleep in the tomb of the great King. The King is there himself in his painted coffin. He is wrapped in yellow linen, and embalmed with spices. Round his neck is a chain of pale green jade, and his hands are like withered leaves.’

‘Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,’ said the Prince, ‘will you not stay with me for one night, and be my messenger? The boy is so thirsty, and the mother so sad.’

‘I don’t think I like boys,’ answered the Swallow. ‘Last summer, when I was staying on the river, there were two rude boys, the miller’s sons, who were always throwing stones at me. They never hit me, of course; we swallows fly far too well for that, and besides, I come of a family famous for its agility; but still, it was a mark of disrespect.’

But the Happy Prince looked so sad that the little Swallow was sorry. ‘It is very cold here,’ he said; ‘but I will stay with you for one night, and be your messenger.’

‘Thank you, little Swallow,’ said the Prince.

So the Swallow picked out the great ruby from the Prince’s sword, and flew away with it in his beak over the roofs of the town. He passed by the cathedral tower, where the white marble angels were sculptured. He passed by the palace and heard the sound of dancing. A beautiful girl came out on the balcony with her lover. ‘How wonderful the stars are,’ he said to her, and how wonderful is the power of love!’

‘I hope my dress will be ready in time for the State-ball,’ she answered; ‘I have ordered passion-flowers to be embroidered on it; but the seamstresses are so lazy.’

He passed over the river, and saw the lanterns hanging to the masts of the ships. He passed over the Ghetto, and saw the old Jews bargaining with each other, and weighing out money in copper scales. At last he came to the poor house and looked in. The boy was tossing feverishly on his bed, and the mother had fallen asleep, she was so tired. In he hopped, and laid the great ruby on the table beside the woman’s thimble. Then he flew gently round the bed, fanning the boy’s forehead with his wings. ‘How cool I feel,’ said the boy, ‘I must be getting better;’ and he sank into a delicious slumber.

Then the Swallow flew back to the Happy Prince, and told him what he had done. ‘It is curious,’ he remarked, ‘but I feel quite warm now, although it is so cold.’

‘That is because you have done a good action,’ said the Prince. And the little Swallow began to think, and then he fell asleep. Thinking always made him sleepy.

When day broke he flew down to the river and had a bath. ‘What a remarkable phenomenon,’ said the Professor of Ornithology as he was passing over the bridge. ‘A swallow in winter!’ And he wrote a long letter about it to the local newspaper. Every one quoted it, it was full of so many words that they could not understand.

‘To-night I go to Egypt,’ said the Swallow, and he was in high spirits at the prospect. He visited all the public monuments, and sat a long time on top of the church steeple. Wherever he went the Sparrows chirruped, and said to each other, ‘What a distinguished stranger!’ so he enjoyed himself very much.

When the moon rose he flew back to the Happy Prince. ‘Have you any commissions for Egypt?’ he cried; ‘I am just starting.’

‘Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,’ said the Prince, ‘will you not stay with me one night longer?’

‘I am waited for in Egypt,’ answered the Swallow. ‘To-morrow my friends will fly up to the Second Cataract. The river-horse couches there among the bulrushes, and on a great granite throne sits the God Memnon. All night long he watches the stars, and when the morning star shines he utters one cry of joy, and then he is silent. At noon the yellow lions come down to the water’s edge to drink. They have eyes like green beryls, and their roar is louder than the roar of the cataract.’

‘Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,’ said the prince, ‘far away across the city I see a young man in a garret. He is leaning over a desk covered with papers, and in a tumbler by his side there is a bunch of withered violets. His hair is brown and crisp, and his lips are red as a pomegranate, and he has large and dreamy eyes. He is trying to finish a play for the Director of the Theatre, but he is too cold to write any more. There is no fire in the grate, and hunger has made him faint.’

‘I will wait with you one night longer,’ said the Swallow, who really had a good heart. ‘Shall I take him another ruby?’

‘Alas! I have no ruby now,’ said the Prince; ‘my eyes are all that I have left. They are made of rare sapphires, which were brought out of India a thousand years ago. Pluck out one of them and take it to him. He will sell it to the jeweler, and buy food and firewood, and finish his play.’

‘Dear Prince,’ said the Swallow, ‘I cannot do that;’ and he began to weep.

‘Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,’ said the Prince, ‘do as I command you.’

So the Swallow plucked out the Prince’s eye, and flew away to the student’s garret. It was easy enough to get in, as there was a hole in the roof. Through this he darted, and came into the room. The young man had his head buried in his hands, so he did not hear the flutter of the bird’s wings, and when he looked up he found the beautiful sapphire lying on the withered violets.

‘I am beginning to be appreciated,’ he cried; ‘this is from some great admirer. Now I can finish my play,’ and he looked quite happy.

The next day the Swallow flew down to the harbor. He sat on the mast of a large vessel and watched the sailors hauling big chests out of the hold with ropes. ‘Heave a-hoy!’ they shouted as each chest came up. ‘I am going to Egypt!’ cried the Swallow, but nobody minded, and when the moon rose he flew back to the Happy Prince.

‘I am come to bid you good-bye,’ he cried.

‘Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,’ said the Prince, ‘will you not stay with me one night longer?’

‘It is winter,’ answered the Swallow, ‘and the chill snow will soon be here. In Egypt the sun is warm on the green palm-trees, and the crocodiles lie in the mud and look lazily about them. My companions are building a nest in the Temple of Baalbec, and the pink and white doves are watching them, and cooing to each other. Dear Prince, I must leave you, but I will never forget you, and next spring I will bring you back two beautiful jewels in place of those you have given away. The ruby shall be redder than a red rose, and the sapphire shall be as blue as the great sea.’

‘In the square below,’ said the Happy Prince, ‘there stands a little match-girl. She has let her matches fall in the gutter, and they are all spoiled. Her father will beat her if she does not bring home some money, and she is crying. She has no shoes or stockings, and her little head is bare. Pluck out my other eye, and give it to her, and her father will not beat her.’

‘I will stay with you one night longer,’ said the Swallow, ‘but I cannot pluck out your eye. You would be quite blind then.’

‘Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,’ said the Prince, ‘do as I command you.’

So he plucked out the Prince’s other eye, and darted down with it. He swooped past the match-girl, and slipped the jewel into the palm of her hand. ‘What a lovely bit of glass,’ cried the little girl; and she ran home, laughing.

Then the Swallow came back to the Prince. ‘You are blind now,’ he said, ‘so I will stay with you always.’

‘No, little Swallow,’ said the poor Prince, ‘you must go away to Egypt.’

‘I will stay with you always,’ said the Swallow, and he slept at the Prince’s feet.

All the next day he sat on the Prince’s shoulder, and told him stories of what he had seen in strange lands. He told him of the red ibises, who stand in long rows on the banks of the Nile, and catch gold fish in their beaks; of the Sphinx, who is as old as the world itself and lives in the desert, and knows everything; of the merchants, who walk slowly by the side of their camels, and carry amber beads in their hands; of the King of the Mountains of the Moon, who is as black as ebony, and worships a large crystal; of the great green snake that sleeps in a palm-tree, and has twenty priests to feed it with honey-cakes; and of the pygmies who sail over a big lake on large flat leaves, and are always at war with the butterflies.

‘Dear little Swallow,’ said the Prince, ‘you tell me of marvelous things, but more marvelous than anything is the suffering of men and of women. There is no Mystery so great as Misery. Fly over my city, little Swallow, and tell me what you see there.’

So the Swallow flew over the great city, and saw the rich making merry in their beautiful houses, while the beggars were sitting at the gates. He flew into dark lanes, and saw the white faces of starving children looking out listlessly at the black streets. Under the archway of a bridge two little boys were lying in one another’s arms to try and keep themselves warm. ‘How hungry we are!’ they said. ‘You must not lie here,’ shouted the Watchman, and they wandered out into the rain.

Then he flew back and told the Prince what he had seen.

‘I am covered with fine gold,’ said the Prince, ‘you must take it off, leaf by leaf, and give it to my poor; the living always think that gold can make them happy.’

Leaf after leaf of the fine gold the Swallow picked off, till the Happy Prince looked quite dull and grey. Leaf after leaf of the fine gold he brought to the poor and the children’s faces grew rosier, and they laughed and played games in the street. ‘We have bread now!’ they cried.

Then the snow came, and after the snow came the frost. The streets looked as if they were made of silver, they were so bright and glistening; long icicles like crystal daggers hung down from the eaves of the houses, everybody went about in furs, and the little boys wore scarlet caps and skated on the ice.

The poor little Swallow grew colder and colder, but he would not leave the Prince, he loved him too well. He picked up crumbs outside the baker’s door where the baker was not looking, and tried to keep himself warm by flapping his wings.

But at last he knew that he was going to die. He had just strength to fly up to the Prince’s shoulder once more. ‘Good-bye, dear Prince!’ he murmured, ‘will you let me kiss your hand?’

‘I am glad that you are going to Egypt at last, little Swallow,’ said the Prince, ‘you have stayed too long here; but you must kiss me on the lips, for I love you.’

‘It is not to Egypt that I am going,’ said the Swallow. ‘I am going to the House of Death. Death is the brother of Sleep, is he not?’

And he kissed the Happy Prince on the lips, and fell down dead at his feet.

At that moment a curious crack sounded inside the statue, as if something had broken. The fact is that the leaden heart had snapped right in two.

It certainly was a dreadfully hard frost. Early the next morning the Mayor was walking in the square below in company with the Town Councilors. As they passed the column he looked up at the statue: ‘Dear me! How shabby the Happy Prince looks!’ he said.

‘How shabby indeed!’ cried the Town Councilors, who always agreed with the Mayor, and they went up to look at it.

‘The ruby has fallen out of his sword, his eyes are gone, and he is golden no longer,’ said the Mayor; ‘in fact, he is little better than a beggar!’

‘Little better than a beggar’ said the Town councilors.

‘And here is actually a dead bird at his feet!’ continued the Mayor. ‘We must really issue a proclamation that birds are not to be allowed to die here.’ And the Town Clerk made a note of the suggestion.

So they pulled down the statue of the Happy Prince. ‘As he is no longer beautiful he is no longer useful,’ said the Art Professor at the University.

Then they melted the statue in a furnace, and the Mayor held a meeting of the Corporation to decide what was to be done with the metal. ‘We must have another statue, of course,’ he said, ‘and it shall be a statue of myself.’

‘Of myself,’ said each of the Town Councilors, and they quarreled. When I last heard of them they were quarrelling still.

‘What a strange thing!’ said the overseer of the workmen at the foundry. ‘This broken lead heart will not melt in the furnace. We must throw it away.’ So they threw it on a dust-heap where the dead Swallow was also lying.

‘Bring me the two most precious things in the city,’ said God to one of His Angels; and the Angel brought Him the leaden heart and the dead bird.

‘You have rightly chosen,’ said God, ‘for in my garden of Paradise this little bird shall sing for evermore, and in my city of gold the Happy Prince shall praise me.’

Violence as described in the dictionary is any “physical force exerted so as to cause damage, abuse or injury.” Based on this loose definition alone a number of violent acts depicted on television such as foul language and psychological abuse would not be included. Hence social scientists have for years tried to come up with an all-inclusive definition that would precisely define violence in media.

For close to 25 years, social scientists have used Gross G. Gerbner and his colleague’s definition of violence to measure the incidence thereof on television. According to Gerbner and his co-researcher’s, for violence to be recorded, it has to be reality based, possible and within the sphere of human experiences, stemming from intentional or accidental causes like accidents and natural catastrophes. It however “rules out idle threats, verbal abuse or comic gestures with no credible violent consequences” (Potter 1999, 67-68).

Some social scientists are of the opinion that making use of this definition would discount verbal acts and other antisocial behaviors that recent studies show to be increasing in incidence. This in effect would not give an accurate picture of the level of violence on TV today. It would in fact give the impression that violence on TV is decreasing, given that depictions of serious and criminal physical violence such as murders have leveled off in recent years (Potter 1999, 78).

A much broader definition is espoused by theoreticians to better monitor violence on TV and to make it better resonate with the public’s definition of violence. A definition that takes into account actual and intended harm on the TV victim, whether the consequences are seen or unseen by the viewer must be considered if there is to be any real and relevant recording of TV violence.

By: Barbara Cage

The path to a dream is paved with sacrifices
and lined with determination.
And though it has many stumbling blocks along the way
and may go in more than one direction, it is marked with faith.
It is travelled by belief and courage, persistence and hard work.
It is conquered with a willingness to face challenges and take chances,
to fail and try and try again.

Along the way, you may have to confront doubts, setbacks, and unfairness.
But when the path comes to an end,
You will find that there is no greater joy than making your dream come true.

Ten years ago, school year 2000 – 2001, SRBCL first opened its doors to enrollees. Thirteen families, totaling to fifteen pupils took the chance at enrolling in an untried and untested school and fortunately, were satisfied enough to become the nucleus of the SRBCL community.

Every year, the school has posted growth, yes, modest growth at best, but it was exactly the way we wanted it. SRBCL’s gradual growth gave us the chance and time to fine tune the educational experience we wanted to offer our pupils. It is far from perfect and we realize that there is always room for improvement. But we are confident that every single year we serve to the very best of our abilities and capacities.

This year marks the tenth school year of SRBCL and we have many to thank for all the successes and to some degree even the setbacks SRBCL faced during the past ten years. First and foremost, all the families and pupils that have been part of SRBCL from its early years and are still very much part of our community. Thank you for all the support, understanding and trust you have given us over the years. Your belief spurred us to continue this fulfilling journey.

To our current families and pupils, thank you for giving us this chance to be part of a very important chapter in your lives – the formative educational experience. Children, you serve as the very well from where we draw our strength and inspiration to serve and provide the kind of learning experience we have envisioned. As our major stakeholders, your interest remains to be our priority. Parents and guardians, our utmost appreciation for all the support and cooperation you have shown and hopefully would unselfishly extend the whole school year.

Our thanks also go to the Department of Education (DepEd). It has provided guidance during our early years and had in more ways than one forced us to be more focused and improve on certain aspects of our educational institution.

And lastly, to the faculty of SRBCL both past and present, our deepest thanks. Never hesitate to consider the success of SRBCL your personal success. After all, the school would not have thrived without your untiring efforts day in and day out. We hope that the depth of our appreciation is one that we have made you feel or still make you feel every single working day at SRBCL. Thank you.

From the Administration
and Board of SRBCL

—oOo—

On a personal note, for this year’s celebrations, I would like to thank the following for making our initial activities a success. Though this note of thanks may never reach the eyes or ears of the intended, I would just like to make it known that it took many hands to achieve the wonderful outcome of our anniversary celebrations.

Firstly, to Rev. Fr. Mario R. Morales, my deepest gratitude for taking time out from what I’m sure is a hectic schedule to celebrate St. Robert Bellarmine’s Feast Day Mass in the school. Your homily was truly most apt and enlightening. I would also like to extend my thanks to Seminarian James Quinto who provided assistance during the Mass.

To the choir who unhesitatingly agreed to sing for the school’s Feast Day Mass, thank you. Diana Aguinaldo, Jophel Caragay, May Ann Caragay, Michael Maramba, Tess Maramba, Mirasol Nacar, Richard Ramos, Virgibal Silang, Sonny Untalan, Jun Urayan, Iris Ann Vallo and Val, I hope that we at SRBCL gave you much cause to enjoy your brief yet meaningful service.

To the Mass readers; Matthew Barredo, Sabrina Bernal, Cris Laforteza, Carl Gonzales, Teachers Sol and Anna, and the Mass offerors; Ken Chua, Jamie Tuazon, Elizabeth Eden, Christian Decano, Faith Magno, Stephanie Laforteza, Angela  Aguinaldo, Mary Rose Aque, Jann Quinto and Raymond Bernal, my appreciation for whole –heartedly fulfilling your roles.

To all the pupils and families of SRBCL –thank you for your cooperation during our two- day activity. Your enthusiasm was quite infectious and made it an experience well worth the effort, headache,  and expense.

I would like to thank my SRBCL faculty and staff again and again. I truly count it a big blessing that you are with me this school year.  Your willingness to work despite illness, personal discomfort, or inconvenience is truly appreciated. Your initiative and ability to work without much personal supervision made the preparations for the activities relatively easy and worry- free.

Since I may not have acknowledged your contribution properly during our party – or I might even have totally missed you, I’d like to take this chance, to enumerate the many ways you’ve helped me. People might find it taxing to read this, but this is the only way I can fully express the extent of my gratitude because I am fairly certain that I don’t mention it often enough.

For the whole faculty – for agreeing to prepare “surprise numbers” for the party, despite the very big chance that your pupils would tease you incessantly, for the time and effort you put in to train the children for their presentations,  for your help during the general arrangement of the hall for both the Mass and the  party, and for sorting and packing the children’s loot bags.

The individual tasks you took on during the preparations for the party that were of tremendous help: for the balloon decorations, thank you to Teachers Rodith Veloria, Sol Mislang, Nanette Padlan and Venus Cera; for the table-top floral arrangements, Teachers Diane Aguinaldo and Leslie Salindong deserve the credit; for the stage lettering, thanks to Teachers Aleli Mejia and Ritchelle Caguya; Teachers Grace Tuanan and Joan Malicdem thank you for helping out with the preparation of the prizes; for helping out with the shopping and procurement, Teacher Anna Aguinaldo thank you. Another big thank you for the great help you provided in the food preparation for the party. And to the person whom I jokingly refer to not only as my right-hand man but my left-hand man as well, my brother, Teacher Chris Aguinaldo, thank you for taking on the job of more than two men. For the general preparation for lights, sound, etc. thank you. Also for following up on the T-shirt production even when it required that you go without much needed sleep, my deepest thanks. For the all-around help they provided during the whirlwind preparations, thank you to Ian, Ate Norma, Veron, Dolly, Robert, Arnold and Rodel.

I’d also like to thank Airene’s Flower Shop and Kuya Jolly for time and time again providing us with excellent service and May- Diane’s Flower Shop for lending us their equipment and valuable resources on more than one occasion.

To my parents and family who have given their love and support for this seemingly capricious idea I had more than ten years ago – that of putting up a school, I who had the patience of a man on fire, thank you for believing that “I’d stick with it.” I am more than aware that a mere thank you could not possibly cover all the gratitude I feel, but let this be an assurance that not a day goes by that I forget.

And I certainly could not end this message of thanks without reserving my biggest thank you to our GOD. Not only has He provided strength and inspiration, but He has over the course of the school’s 10 years given me much proof of His continued guidance, protection and grace. When faced with seemingly insurmountable obstacles, help and assistance arrived in many different means and forms. Though I did not interpret it as God’s guiding hand during those times, I now look back and cannot consider it anything but that.  He has sent along my way mentors and guiding lights, whose precious experiences I continue to mine, friends who boost my sometimes dwindling spirits, and a faith that strengthens as the years fly by and hopefully as wisdom increases.

THANK YOU ALL for the past 10 years and for the many more years we all fervently hope SRBCL to have – years where it will continue to grow, thrive and SOAR.

Teacher Renee
September 19, 2009

In this age of technological advancement, people now more than ever are becoming increasingly dependent upon mass media as its main source of information, entertainment and recreation. People have become more detached from their environs and from human contact as well. Gone are the days when families and neighbors would gladly exchange the day’s gossip and news over meals or coffee. Children would rather stare at computer screens for hours rather than sweat it out in the yard with their siblings and friends. Thus without realizing it, citizens of today’s global world have become virtual slaves to mass media.

Probably of all media customers, children are most at risk. Unable to clearly distinguish right from wrong and compounded by the absence of responsible adult guidance, children are fed on a daily basis with a barrage of print, audio and visuals that do more harm than good.

Alarmingly, violence in mass media is becoming regular fare. Television, clearly the most popular medium, has in recent years been reported by the Center for Media and Public Affairs to have increased rather than decreased the depictions of violent acts.
Television and cable network’s popularity is quite understandable. The ease through which information, news and entertainment can be had through the medium is an enticing bonus. But more so because they are able to facilitate vicarious experiences that otherwise could not be had by the average everyday working person. They provide escapes through which men become super athletes, business tycoons, crime-busters within the confines of their living room and where housebound women are instantly transformed to glamorous scheming socialites or desirable sirens. Children on the other hand see their fantasies acted out by their invincible anime characters and superheroes.

Underneath majority of these television characters are depictions of violence, not only of the physical kind but more of the insidious and subliminal type. And unfortunately, the children bear the brunt of its influence.

Renee Andrea T. Aguinaldo
July 2008

But it is inescapable that reading – reading WITH comprehension is an important skill to have. And as adults, we have to at least ensure that our kids have that advantage. An advantage that is sure to serve them well in this competitive world.

Herewith are some tips which I and a lot of other reading teachers and specialists have come to believe to be very important in raising lifelong readers.

1. Provide the environment. Raise your child in a print rich environment. Have books, magazines, newspapers and even pamphlets around your home which he can flip through or scan. Surround him with words. If you must absolutely have order in your home, have him pick a comfortable and well-lighted spot in your house or his room where reading materials are within easy reach.

2. Introduce games that encourage reading. Rather than buying him the latest in robotic toys or gadgets, why not stick to word games such as Scrabble, Boggle, or Trivial Pursuit. Join in on the fun too.

3. Read to your child and encourage his questions. If he’s too old for bedtime stories, why not read to him a news or magazine article which would be of interest to him. And encourage him to ask questions about the article and guide him into answering and asking “why” questions as opposed to “who” or “what” questions. In time, you would have created not only a reading ritual but a bonding time between you as well. Fifteen minutes a day of this makes all the difference.

4. Keep his interests in mind. Include him in the decision making process. Have him pick some of his reading materials. Though you may cringe at his choices, if no permanent damage will result from them – what’s a few mention of bodily secretions like “barf” and “snot” compared to the joy you’ll feel when you see them graduate to more acceptable reading matter. Also if your budget would allow it, why not give him a subscription to his favorite magazine.

5. Model reading. The last but certainly the most important tip of all. You may do all of the above BUT if your child does not see you reading and enjoying it – all of your efforts would be for naught. Whether they’ll admit to it or not OR whether you yourself see it or not, your kids mirror your actions, your values. If your kids see you reading, and see the joy you derive from it, chances are the habit’s going to rub off on them. If you only pay it lip service, your child cannot be faulted for thinking that reading is nothing more than a tedious chore, or a cruel punishment.