I apologize for not being up-to-date about my blogs.  The last blog about Miriam Defensor Santiago was written at the start of the impeachment proceedings and it languished in the drafts box until today.

On March 4, 2012, my son went to the UP School of Economics to compete at the annual Patalasanlahi extemporaneous speech contest.

Let me clarify that he really did not want to compete.  But he realized that he had taken upon himself the challenge of joining the contest in September of 2011 and this led to a chain of wins that finally led up to the Patalasanlahi 2012.  He had to see it through.

The experience was a “successful failure.”  My son  won 6th place (he was disappointed because he wanted to win first place, after all).  But he was the only sophomore student there in the competition.  And it was a national competition.  There were 22 contestants in all and 6th place doesn’t seem such a bad showing.

First, he had to be in corporate attire.  So we raced to the mall to buy him a barong tagalog on Saturday afternoon, the day before the competition.

Second, he had grown a few inches since October so we had to let down his pants.

Third, we had to get to UP by 7:30 am to register for the competition.

Fourth, the organizers changed the venue from the Tandang Sora Hall of the College of Social Work and Community Development to the School of Economics.

Fifth, the whole academic oval is closed to vehicular traffic on Sunday so we had to go around the campus twice to find Tandang Sora Hall and then to back track and proceed to the School of Economics.

Sixth, we waited an hour for the opening ceremonies in a venue that was too cramped and too stuffy to accommodate the number of contestants and participants their coaches, relatives and well-wishers.

Seventh, there were lectures on the environment that were mildly interesting and slightly entertaining before the contest.  We felt like hostages who had to endure a bad show to get to the competition proper.

Eighth, we broke off for lunch and the contest proper did not begin until 1 pm.  By that time, my son had exhausted his humor and goodwill. He just wanted to end the day.

Ninth, after all the hassle, the topic was not something he thought he could sink his teeth into.  He did not like the topic and he just got up to say his piece to get it over and done with.  I cannot even now remember what the topic was all about.  It was obscure.

Tenth, the contest ended at 4:30 but we had to wait until 5:30 for the results and the awarding.  We went home at 5pm when my husband picked us up.

It was a success of sorts because he at least made it to the top ten.  But it was a failure on his part because he felt he was unable to do his best.  He succeeded in  going through the experience.  But he did not get a clear win.

It was a success because he learned something about himself: he liked giving speeches on topics that mattered to him and to his audience.  He was not a robot who could get up and give a speech only because he wanted to win.  Winning was not as sweet as the opportunity to do mental acrobatics and produce a brainchild: an original thought and expression.

What challenged him about the whole contest was the time pressure.  The contestants are given just three minutes to read the topic, analyze it, gather his thoughts, order his expressions and present it with impact.  He likes working out puzzles in his head; sorting through a muddle and coming out with a coherent stand on an issue.  If he is able to do this, even if he doesn’t land on the winner’s spot, he considers it a success.

I think that the whole experience was a success because he came face to face with himself and finally articulated to himself what his motivation was for joining the speech contest.  He was not as thirsty for a win as he was for the opportunity to speak his mind.

In this the experience was a failure: he was unable to fully speak his mind.  This is what frustrated him.  He saw that he still didn’t know enough to form an original and coherent point of view.  This is what agitates him.

A mother always wants to shield her child from disappointment and disillusionment.  But sometimes disillusions are a good thing: you lose your illusions.  You see things for what they are.  You see yourself for who you are.  You see why you do the things you do.  If he came away from this experience stripped of illusions, then the experience was a success.  Reality is not always pleasant; but one has to live with reality. Having an eye clear enough of illusions to see reality is a good thing.

I have not asked my son if he will compete again next year.  I will totally understand if he refuses: for he wants to explore other possibilities.  I will also understand if he will choose to compete again: the next round of competition will  be self-mastery; a honing of a talent into a skill; the development of a skill into art.  The choice, of course, is his.

Good luck, my boy! You do your mother proud.