OR how Beethoven and Mozart got mixed with Yoyoy Villame and Max Surban.
The other day, a freshman student leader asked me to give the invocation at the opening of our technical school’s Olympiad.
I was, of course, happy and eager to do it. I consider it a great fringe benefit to get a chance to see some games with young people. That would be a welcome change from my routine, I thought, as long as it is only from time to time.
My age and temperament seem to prevent me from getting into this kind of events. Some people have wondered how I could stay aloof to a Manny Pacquiao fight, for example. I just tell them, it must be the grace of God. Then we switch topics.
When I saw the program, I was amused to note that I was given 15 minutes to do the invocation. What did they expect me to do, I asked myself, as I immediately realized these were young people organizing this event and they must not know what an invocation is or how long it usually lasts.
Anyway, I did not complain. What came to my mind was to say some prayers and then give them a 10-minute reflection on the proper spirit of sports. I knew I had material for that.
So as the students entered the gym amid the hoopla and fanfare and fell into formation, I did my part and was pleasantly surprised to see they were listening. The place became quiet. I felt my words sank in and I thanked God.
Then came the national anthem, and the games started with a contest in cheer dancing. I was not prepared for this. My jaws just dropped as I saw a dizzying variety of creative dance steps performed by 16 to 17-year-old boys, mostly coming from the province, whose background I thought was not that rich.
I knew most of them. They come to me for chats and I am familiar with their situations, mostly hard and difficult. But there they were, completely transformed into focused artistic performers. I was very happy for them.
They were jumping and tumbling and spinning around. They made mock macho and effeminate poses. They flowed into different formations—circles, triangles, pyramids, etc. Some were thrown into the air. I felt I was seeing the opening of the China Olympics.
They executed difficult movements like break dancing steps or even what they call as extreme dancing arm flares and hands wildly gesticulating to the beat of the music. And the music! For a 5-minute number, they managed to mix about 20 songs.
That’s where I noticed that the classical music of Beethoven and Mozart interspersed with the comic foolishness of Yoyoy Villame and Max Surban. All these left me wondering how they ever got to know all these things. My generation was never like this.
Then at the back of my mind, I retrieved some lines from a song of my time, What a Wonderful World!, now revived by Michael Buble. “I hear babies cry / I watch them grow / They’ll learn much more / Than I’ll ever know…”
That’s it! This is the dynamics of life, I concluded. I have to learn how to adapt myself to this fact of life and to do whatever I could to help. Truth is these kids are bursting with energy and creativity, now revved up to the max because of our new technologies.
But they are in great need of guidance and direction, and that’s what the elders, like me, are for. For all the good elements brought about by one’s youthfulness and the current level of development, there are dangers that need to be identified, exposed and neutralized or even taken advantage of.
Our young today are prone to acquire a cut-and-paste mentality and lifestyle. They can easily fall to improvisations that can become a habit.
For sure, there are many advantages in that, but it’s not supposed to replace our youth’s need for a deep and solid grounding that would give them a coherent and correct understanding of life and its many elements.
This is the challenge I realized as I excused myself after their third number. I noticed I got tired for them, after seeing those vigorous and strenuous moves they were performing.
They need to know the skills for study, prayer and the continuing pursuit of virtues.
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