The Neglect of a Young Girl’s Education and Guidance by Parents and Teachers

“The Lost Girl” Declamation by dhang I am a girl, young in heart and in mind… I am carefree, I enjoy doing nothing but play,play and play… I seldom go to school but hmp! nobody cares! Instead,you will see me roaming around standing at the nearby canto, or hanging around at the sari-sari store standing beside the internet cafe… One day I asked, I asked my mother to teach me how to behave, to live, and appreciate all the beautiful things in life. Would you like to know what she told me? She said… " Can’t you see, I have to hurry up for my majong session! " So I turned to my father to console me. But what a wonderful word he did tell me… Child, I have to finish my overtime work…Here’s 500 pesos, go and ask your teacher about that question…" Sadly,I attended my class… But I heard nothing but the echoing voice of my teacher,torturing me with her words… " Hey yo lazy girl! Why waste your time studying those things? When up to now you can’t even multiply seven by nine? Go home and don’t bother me!!! " I am lost…confused…I don’t know what to do with myself… Where are my parents to guide me? My teachers to give me inspirations? My friends, when I play? I’m lazy and irresponsible. When I try to study, I get punished for not being able to answer.

Where now…I’m confused… Somebody, please help me… You say that the world is beautiful, why is it treating me this way? Hear me please! Help me please! Help me… I am lost… Short Declamation Piece: Desiderata Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even the dull and the ignorant; they too have their story. Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter; or always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time. Exercise caution in your business affairs; for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals; and everywhere life is full of heroism. Be yourself. Especially, do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass. Take kindly the counsel of the years, racefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be, and whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy. Short Declamation Piece: Trades I want to be a carpenter, To work all day long in clean wood, Shaving it into little this slivers Which screw up into curls behind my plane; Pounding square, black nails into white boards, With the claws of my hammer glistening Like the tongue of a snake. I want to shingle a house, Sitting on a ridgepole, in a bright breeze. I want to put the shingles on neatly, Taking great care that each is directly between two others. I want my hands to have the tang of wood; Spruce, cedar, cypress.

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I want to draw a line on a board with a flat pencil, And then saw along that line, With the sweet-smelling sawdust piling up in a yellow heap at my feet. That is the life I want to be! Heigh-ho! Sleet and shift for the slippery climb, How they stop a fire, or tinker a tire – and pull into town on time. The city takes, and it goes its way, and the great dark hulks reload, While mechanics grease; and test, and check, to make them safe for the road; Then the crates are stacked and the boxes packed and the padding placed – and then The tailboards slam, and the trailers ram, and the great trucks roll again!

Short Declamation: Man Upon The Cross Upon the cross against the hills of the night They nailed the man, and while they speared his breast they made him drink the bile. He bore the pains alone, alone But in the hallowed darkness saw Sweet Mary’s face upturned in grief below. Tears filmed her eyes, but love chastened the tragic beauty of her face which neither death nor sorrow could erase. He saw and feebly in the silence strove to speak a few remembered words: but now the whispers left his lips like tender birds. His arms were cold and death was in his eyes; the streams of blood were dry upon the whiteness of his limbs.

His breath was like a wounded bird wanting to stay, to stay, bereft now Mary rose and treasuring his sorrow, left. Declamation “Their Only Son” You’re a hell of a cow-man, you are! You, and your yaller shoes! How would you look a-straddle of a Roman-nosed cayuse ! Where would you be in a round-up, or a mix with the Greasers, say ? Where is the boy I loved – the feller I sent away? He had some style about him! He was a boy! All through ! But he went away to college – and the college has sent back you ! I should have brung you a go-cart, not a real hoss to ride ! I reckon you’re God’s rebuke for me totin’ too damn much pride.

For I was plumb proud of you- I grieved when you went away; I couldn’t say half the things I had in my heart to say; And-What is that thing you’re wearin’? A wrist watch! Holy cats! And what are them white things on you? What is it you call ‘em, spats . And why are your pants so tight? And why don’t they reach your shoes ? Gee ! But you would play hell on the back of a wild cayuse ! And when your poor mother sees you-Climb onto your hoss and ride ! Don’t you see the town-folks lookin’ ? Come on an’ let’s get outside ! If we’d a-stayed there much longer someone would have laughed, and then

I’d had to have started something I couldn’t undo again; For you are my son-God help me! – and no one may laugh at you And not have your father call him. This place we are comin’ to Is where that there young school teacher was caught by that Greaser band- Oh, well, we won’t talk about that. I reckon you can’t understand How a real he-man gets feelin’-Hold up! What is that ahead? It’s the same band! Ridin’ for us! God! Look at ‘em ride and spread! Your hoss hasn’t had no rider-he’s fresh as he started out! Don’t ever take time to look when you get him turned about, But ride him like hell to town, and get out the posse–quick.

Tell them to make the river and head off the band! I’ll stick. My hoss couldn’t make the distance ahead of that rush no how- And I never turned back on a Greaser! And I ain’t beginnin’ now! When it’s safe and the fight is over, come back where I am, and by The Greasers I’ve sent to hell you’ll see how a man can die. Tell your mother I thought about her-And give him the spurs and ride! Don’t you see them cut tin’ around us? Oh, God! With a he-man I’d Go through ‘em like hell a-poppin’! Go on! Make your get-away! What’s that you are sayin’ to me? Made up your mind to stay? You have ? Shoot your hoss then!

Shoot him! Here! Let me ! That’s the how! That’s it, get down behind him! Now for my own hoss! Now! What’s that you are handlin’ that way, and boldin’ so tight- my son? That one of them automatics? I’ve beard of that kind of gun! I wonder if you can use it-Hi-golly! You got that cuss ! I wish that your ma could see us! You bet she’d be proud of us! I’m strong for the old six-gun, son-Sho! That went a little high! I guess they have got your father-feels like a broken thigh- You got that one’s hoss that time! And I got the rider – dead! Say! We will go ridin’ bell-ward with half of that band ahead!

And if your poor ma could see us-You got ‘im! You got ‘im! She When they have found us I reckon will be proud of her boy and me! What’s that? We ain’t got ‘em running’? The posse! And just in time! I reckon they’ll have to tote me; I ain’t in no shape to climb On a hoss; but, son, ride by me, I’m proud of the way you done! And your mother will be proud of you. The lord bas give us a son! And if the spats you are wearin’ and the pants you have on suit you I’m for ‘em! From bell to breakfast! And I’m for the wrist watch too ! And the boys that’s riding’ for us bas got to outfit like that, With spats and skin-tight britches, and rist-watch and dinky hat! Declamation Piece “I Demand Death! ” My hands are wet with blood. They are crimsoned with the blood of a man I have just killed. I have come here today to confess. I have committed murder, deliberate, premeditated murder. I have killed a man in cold blood. That man is my master. I am here not to ask for pity but for justice. Simple, elementary justice. I am a tenant… My father was a tenant before me and so was his father before him. This misery is my inheritance and perhaps this will be my legacy to my children. I have labored on a patch of land not mine.

But I have learned to love that land, for it is the only thing that lies between me and complete destitution. It is the only world that I have learned to cherish. And somewhere on that land I have managed to build what is now the dilapidated nipa shack that has been home to me. I have but a few world possessions, mostly rags. My debts are heavy. They are sum total of my ignorance and the inspired arithmetic of my master, which I do not understand. I labor like a slave and out of the fruits of that labor I get but a mere pittance for a share. And I have to stretch that mere pittance to keep myself and my family alive.

My poverty has reduced me to the bare necessities of life. And the constant fear of rejection from the land has made me totally subservient to my master. You tell me that under the constitution, I am a free man-free to do what I believe is just, free to do what I think is right, and free to worship God according to the dictate of my conscience. But I do not understand the meaning of all these for I have never known freedom. I have always obeyed the wishes of my master out of fear. I have always regarded myself as no better than a slave to the man who owns the land on which I live.

I do not ask you to forgive me nor to mitigate my crime. I have taken the law into my own hands, and I must pay for it in atonement. But kill this system. Kill this system and you kill despotism. Kill this system and you kill slavery. Kill this despotism and you set the human soul to liberty and freedom. Kill this slavery and you release the human spirit into happiness and contentment. For the cause of human liberty, of human happiness and contentment, thousands and even millions have died and will continue to die. Mine is only one life.

Take me if you must but let it be a sacrifice to the cause which countless others have been given before and will be given again and again, until the oppressive economic system has completely perished, until the sons of toil have been liberated from enslavement, and until man has been fully restored to decency and self respect. You tell me of the right to life and liberty and the pursuit of happiness. But I have known no rights, only obligations; I have known no happiness; only despair in the encumbered existence that has always been my lot. My dear friend, I am a peace-loving citizen. I have nothing but love for my fellowmen.

And yet, why did I kill this man? It is because he was the symbol of an economic system which has made him and me what we are: He, a master, and I, a slave. Out of a deliberate design I killed him because I could no longer stand this life of constant fear and being a servant. I could no longer suffer the thought of being perpetually a slave. I committed the murder as an abject lesson. I want to blow that spelled the death of my master to be a death blow to the institution of the economic slavery which shamelessly exists in the bright sunlight of freedom that is guaranteed by the constitution to every man.

My dear friend: I do anguish from the weak and helpless and has laid upon the back of the ignorant labor burdens that are too heavy to be borne, I demand death! To this callous system of exploitation that has tightened the fetters of perpetual bondage in the hands of thousands, and has killed the spirit of freedom in the hearts of men, I demand death. To this oppression that has denied liberty to the free and unbounded children of God, I DEMAND DEATH!

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