Powers of Assumption

I was very awkward growing up, and any kind of public embarrasment would instill itself so solidly in my mind that even now- even though I'm a little more confident, a little more self assured- they still resonate through my life.

Take the case of Mrs. _____'s high school "distance learning" class. Sam Houston High School, being as it were very much ghetto, did get props for having access to high technology. I got to try my hand at 3D animation while I was there, as well as some semblance of neanderthalic film cameras.

I even got to be in their first ever Distance Learning experiment.

Distance Learning is, in all sense of the word, that. 2 classes from 2 different locations (for us, 2 classes at 2 different schools in the same school district) would share lessons via satellite by using strategically placed cameras & microphones at the head of each student's desk, wired to big screen TVs at the front of the classroom. A single teacher would then switch, spending a week at each school and transfering over the next week.

So any kind of public embarrasment to be had was- because fate is always funny- doubled.

I remember walking into class the second week of school. We had our first paper due and, being a thorough student, I had gone all out and put complete headings on mine, considering that every teacher that semester swore allegence to the 'headings' way of life. Mrs. ______ called roll and with each person's name we had to turn in our paper. My last name starts with a B, so I was ready when she called me first.

"What is this?" she asked, looking down at my masterpiece.

"It's my assignment." I said.

"This heading is all wrong. I need a cover page."

Floored, but for only a split second, I shrugged "whatever, ok", sounded an apology, and sat down. My thinking: So I made a mistake... her curriculum in no way stated "Essay Format Rules", but I'll do better next time. Oops.

Somewhere in my heart I like to fantasize that when Mrs. ______ was very little she was terrorized at night by the "Whatever Man." I have hopes that he hid in her closet and shocked her at all hours of the night with horrific images of post-pubescence shrugging off her every word. It is the only logical explanation to the look of disgust she proceeded to form on her face.

"Everyone take note of Ms. Berdin's attitude today." She said, making sure to frame the main classroom camera into a close up of my shocked face. "Don't think that you can turn in work however you want and I'll just be happy to get it."

Fury.

"What are you talking about?" I said.

"You did the assignment wrong, Ms. Berdin." A sea of faces, all familiar, turned towards me. A wave of new ones repeated the action on the big screen.

"How did I do it wrong? Because I didn't put a cover page? Every other teacher in this school
has format instructions for HEADINGS in their curriculum, and since you didn't I only assumed-"

Her hand went up. I stopped, and she strutted over to the magnetic board with the motion censor camera following her every move. In big letters, she jotted:

to ASSUME
makes an
ASS out of U and ME

And so goes my American high school education.

I am reminded of that episode because I spent some time watching the LA filipino channel today. I'm an idiot, and don't speak tagalog, but it was nice hearing the words so I kept the volume up real loud and pretended to understand. After a while I started to, and on one of their shows a roundtable discussion began about whether or not American-raised filipino kids were ruder than their homeland counterparts.

And a statement jumped out at me.

"In the Philippines, children are raised to assume. If a mother asks her son to take the clothes out of the dryer, it is assumed that the son will fold them and put them away. If a father is bringing groceries out of the car, it is assumed (by both parties) that the child will help.

In America, though, children are raised to be instructed. If a mother asks her son to take out the clothes, she must then instruct her son to fold them or he will not know he needs to do it. If the father does not ask for his child's help with the groceries, the child will not see a need to do so.

The conflict comes when Filipinos from the homeland bring values that their children are not exposed to here. A mother will think her son is rude for not folding the clothes, while the son will think his requested work is done and merely not understand why the mother is angry."

Validation.

I am not saying an American upbringing is wrong- I am American, and I at times fit into both molds from the examples above. I am very proud of the American in me (as much as I am of the Filipino), and idiotic sayings from ignorant teachers such as Mrs. _____ will not make me believe that all of America lacks the talent of assumption. But in MY upbringing I was raised to not need guidance when it comes to my work. My bosses have always praised me on the fact that I can pick up on problem areas at the office and start motions to getting them corrected- all without needing to be told- while others will wait for their instruction. It's an obvious thing to me where in others it might be alien, and apparently it's because of the culture that raised me.

And so the power that I hold, the power of assumption that got me public ridicule in Mrs. _____'s Distance Learning class all those years ago, is the same power that gives me praise and credibility in all the projects that I undertake now.

And now I don't look at that ridicule as a failure made by me, but as a triumph. I'm no longer embarrased.

I can't tell you anymore stories about our beloved Mrs. _____, because halfway through the semester I got fed up and dropped out of her class. Actually, I dropped out of school entirely, opting for my GED instead. It wasn't because of her- I don't want to flatter her in thinking my life was ruled by her snide remarks- but many other things put together (and THAT subject, analyzing the public school phenomena, wont be brought up here). Later, on my final visit to the school counselor to sign over my independence, in a last ditch effort to keep me afloat she dropped a folder in my lap.

"It's an invitation to meet the President of the United States. Only 2 students were picked out of our school to go this year, out of only 5 students in our district. You were one of them."

I said no thanks.

I was through with it, done with it all. I reasoned that sometime in my life I would be offered to meet more important people, and those could make up for the one I had to miss then. But, out of curiosity, I opened the folder. Inside were testimonials of my hard work, community efforts, and social respectability from teachers I knew and- surprisingly- teachers I had never met. A required 20 testimonials were needed for application submission to meet the President, and I had 32. Personally, I only knew 10 of the people whose letters lay in my hand. Everyone else had written with blind faith.

How's that for assumption?