A Bola of Thread

A Bola of Thread

Photo Credit:  https://www.istockphoto.com/photos/yarn-ball?mediatype=photography&phrase=yarn%20ball&sort=mostpopular

Confession time.  I was never good at sewing, or stitching or hemming of any kind of short, shirts or clothing whatsoever.  I can get by, but I am not a pro.  I am what you would classify as someone that can pass a basic test in this home economics skill. 

And I fooled my teacher in Home Ec, as well as some judges in a sewing contest. 

Hold on, I know what you are thinking, and yes, there was such a thing for school-boys in the Philippines going through Home Economics class.  We had to endure it.  And girls, I think, would have to endure the same subjects that are primarily thought as male-related.  We were created equal when we were attending Hermosa Elementary School. 



Let me back track a few decades ago so you can have an idea why I am doing this confession. 



I think it all started at 5^th grade when all of a sudden our quiet life of six subjects per year were suddenly rocked by adding more subjects than what we were used to.  To top it off, we were introduced to Science, which at that time, turned my innocent mind upside down.  I remembered studying for the very first exam and I was crying my eyes off while memorizing stuff related to plants and photosynthesis, at the same time throwing my notebook into the wall because of my resentment to the subject.  Now in addition to Science, home economics were added to our curriculum.  And I believe that it was about an hour long, which is not a typical length of time for a subject.  Usually, every subject runs about 40 minutes long only.  But this was an hour.  How can sewing, cooking, cleaning, baking and gardening classes be more important than Math and Science?  Well, maybe this was the world telling me to survive basic life skills before I worry myself with tangents, velocity, phylum chordata and cocus nucifera.  But that story is for another day. 



I came here to talk about home economics-particularly the sewing class.  I hated sewing because it is a combination of dexterity while trying to be clean and seamless (haha, that was a pun-well intended, but I digress) and simultaneously being beautiful.  I cannot do all that in one sitting.  I can probably do the dexterity part and that’s about it.  Maybe that’s why, even though I know how to play the piano, I am not spectacular at it.  I just have the dexterity component, not the beautiful part. 



So, in order for me to pass the sewing part of home economics, I sought the help of my mom.  There.  Guilty as charged.  But I have a feeling that I was not the only one that did that.  I think most boys did.  But my problem was, my mom is great at needle work.  And she did not hide her skill.  So my projects would turn out very well executed.  Could you blame her?  How can you make something unpretty when there is an inherent beauty within? 

My teacher, who everyone considered as a terrorist (which I did not see at all because she was very nice to me), saw my potential as a… tailor, I guess, because I am so good with my needles and thread.  So she decided to sign me up as one of the representatives for a sewing contest for our district.  And how could I say no?  My not so-unoriginal scam would be busted.  So I obliged.  I joined and to no surprise to myself, I lose.  I did not place at all.  But maybe I did, fourth.  But that was just a consolation price for representing the prestigious central school district to the contest.  I mean, if you were a representative for a contest coming from central school, you were expected to finish at the top.  Being in second and third was unacceptable.  But if my memory serves me right, I was only fourth.  There was no medal for that,  not even the bronze, but I only got a ribbon saying, contestant-slash-third runner-up-slash-thank you for joining but you lose.   So there.  By that time, I think my teacher realized that I was not the stellar human sewing machine she thought I was.  I was a fluke. 



I was never good at competitions that require time crunch and specific answers.  So I can never win a spelling bee, a Science quiz bee or a Math Olympiad.  Hell no with Math Olympiad.  The subject hates me and I hate it back.  I think our relationship of hate started with fractions when my already confused mind became more confused because my teacher sucked at explaining it.  She was like explaining it to herself so she could understand it as well.  And I just nodded in confused agreement.   

And because of this realization, I was never good with written examinations- mainly because it is timed and it requires an exact answer.  So my board examinations, college entrance examinations and any other final exams that involved an “actual” answer, I was barely passing.  The nerves would get me and I would overthink an answer because I love to make things complicated. 

But I am good with research (which I surprisingly somewhat despise) and anything that involved writing essays because I can chew out words easily without struggling how to fill up an empty page. 

I think that’s why I won quite a few journalism contests and why I got mostly A’s in my doctorate papers because I know how to make bola.  I don’t think there is an exact English word for bola, but it comes close to saying like- bullshitting, but the good kind.  Bola literally translates as ball- so you kinda go around in circles until you make a point without making one.  You get it?  Now I am making bola with you as well. 



So when I lose the sewing contest, I did not feel bad at all because I expected it already.  My mind was set for losing otherwise I would end up representing the district at a higher level of competition wherein I know in my heart that I would have bombed big time, like a meteor colliding with a nuclear bomb. 



So when my teacher reassured me that it was okay that I did not win, I did not cry or felt bad at all.  I think she somehow did because she was rooting for me.  The good thing was, there were two of us representing the school and my partner won.  Which again, I did not care at all. I was happy I escaped the situation. 



I guess we all learned our lesson that day- me: never fake my homework, and her: never trust a student, who is an expert at making bola unless you see him actually do it. 

May 16, 2020