My Lu-Tua lesson

Back in my college days at the UP-Institute of Mass Communications, one of my mentor-teachers was a lady named Lu Tuason who also doubled as the College Secretary. All through my “extended” or “over” stay at IMC, “Lu-Tua” as we fondly called her was like a little-big sister. What she lacked in height she made up for with character, passion and compassion.

Needless to say, we all took her seriously especially since she had the power over “life and death” as far as our education or stay at IMC was concerned.

In those days, students were required to do field work as well as plant several dozen trees before they could graduate. So when I got the chance, I rode shotgun with my Dad, Lu-Tua and several other MassCom professors and lecturers.

For several days, we each did our particular assignments while interacting with many of the locals residing by the shoreline of Agdangan, Quezon. It was an idyllic setting to reflect on life, the future and most especially for going back to nature.

On one particular evening, the group compared notes about their activities and observations. We started talking about the people around us, about their lives and the many discoveries we had while working, eating and mingling with the fishermen and their families.

Like an encouraging big sister, Lu-Tua enthusiastically recognized and complemented my natural talent for inter-acting and communicating with the community. Apparently, it did not escape her watchful eyes when I disappeared at 3 a.m. to go fishing with the locals all the way to the next island province of Marinduque, or how the locals quickly welcomed me to their homes.

Imagine, the College Secretary was pouring on the praises like never before, and she was doing this right in front of my dad who was not very much for open or public praise. I was certainly floating as my ears flapped from the recognition and sense of worth.

Then she threw a statement that stung so much; I completely forgot all of the praise she gave just two minutes ago.

I did not see it coming as Lu-Tua the College Secretary said: “I really think you should shift from MassCom and enroll in Public Administration or even better, go into Community Development”.

It was worse than all the times I was ever kicked out of school. It was more violent than a girlfriend breaking up the relationship. It was almost like being disowned by your academic mother. To make matters worse she did it in front of my father and the team of people from IMC.

I blacked out, stormed off and felt like everything I had believed in at the University had turned to dust. Imagine the great powerful College Secretary telling you to shift course? I could not say what was worse; being told to shift or being told in front of the people that mattered, especially my dad Louie Beltran.

Fortunately, as mad as I can get, I don’t really like being angry or being mad. I would sooner settle the matter than be hounded by what if’s or maybe’s. After letting off steam with a long walk on the beach and half a day working with the locals, I was back and Lu-Tua was there by the beach waiting for me, to finish what we had started.

As I stared at the far off island of Marinduque, I listened like a wounded cat in the jungle ready to spring at the first threat. But Lu-Tua did not change tack, she reiterated her observations regarding my interactions with the locals and “this”, she pointed out was what convinced her that I might be HAPPIER in community development than I could ever be in Journalism.

She was not rejecting me or declaring me as unfit to study in MassCom, rather she was pointing out what others may never have had a chance to observe in “action”. She was not trying to “drop kick” me out of the college but was trying to get me to take off my rose tinted spectacles or blinders.

I was so focused on the affront, that I immediately lost sight that Lu-Tua was, and has always been a friend. The idea of “shifting” was so radical that the only way I could see it was as an attack or a rejection. I had lived through so many criticisms and rejection from others, that it took the slightest poke to trigger pain from a raw nerve.

Unfortunately, “youth” or hurt often makes it difficult to sit it out or to hear people out. Some of us jump to wrong conclusions or like in my case, we bail out rather than crash and burn. I did not let Lu-Tua finish what could have been an eye opening conversation.

I’d like to say that it was a lesson well learned but I would be lying if I said that.

One lesson is not enough to overcome human nature and human experience. I did learn a valuable lesson that day, but like many people I still struggle with controlling my emotions, jumping to conclusions or being hurt. The good part is that with every struggle, we learn the value of the Lu-Tua lesson even more.

If we choose to ask, to listen and to hear, we will discover that on many occasions, people don’t want to, or mean to hurt us, but in order to see that, we must be willing to believe in the good in people. When we do, we will see the goodness in our selves.