For Babies, It’s A (S)Mall World

We are a mall generation. Malling really wasn’t an attraction to me back when I was a student; I did not have much disposable money that I somehow enjoy at present. Also, it seems there is an Amazing Race going on, with Henry Sy, John Gokongwei, and the Ayalas as the major fierce competitors. The goal is to make their respective malls as near to each major area as possible. The nearest SM Mall to our house used to be SM Centerpoint (Sta. Mesa), then it became SM City Manila, and now it’s SM City San Lazaro (well, at least as of the time I posted this entry). As a Pisay student, we used to walk towards SM City North EDSA when hailing cabs proved to be futile. Now, walking to TriNoma will save some precious minutes. Hindi na tao ang lumalapit sa mall; mall na ang lumalapit sa tao.

This mall phenomenon (or craze, or whatever label fits) is very understandable. The establishments are providing the people not only what they need, but also what they fancy. They provide the people with dozens of fastfood chains and restaurants, clothing / shoe / accessories / appliance / technology stalls, bookstores, music stores, beauty salons / barber shops, video arcades, supermarkets, and of course, movie theaters. But the list above is very much, uhm, basic. Each mall should also have the following: 1) drugstores (you never know when you will need that tablet); 2) videoke bars (to unleash the singer in you); 3) shoe shine and repair with key duplication on the side; 4) bayad centers (for all your bills – electricity, water, telephone, etc); 5) banks / ATM machines (to spend money, you should have a place to procure it in the first place); 6) lottery outlets (to fund your much-needed shopping spree); 7) e-load / prepaid cards booth; 8) massage parlors (malling can be that tiring, so you need to relax too); 9) driving license renewal booth; 10) airline tickets booth; 11) tutorial centers / IT schools; 12) pet shops; 13) a big activity center (for the mall shows); 14) competing coffee shops (to get that planner); 15) altering services (for neither-here-nor-there dress sizes); 16) medical / dental services; 17) photo studios (for the barkada pics); 18) gyms (to flex those muscles); 19) K-9 dogs (to supplement the metal detectors); 20) men painted in silver, posing as statues; 21) intricate waterfalls; and 22) [put your need here, they will provide it].

Sometimes, I ponder if the malls are just doing too much to attract customers and potential spenders. On one hand, the ease that a person will get from all the services he/she can avail of is really a great deal of relief; instead of going from one place to another, all you need to do is go to the nearest mall to accomplish all of your errands, all the while enjoying your ice cream cone. On the other, capturing their continually expanding target markets is an endless pursuit. Now you do not have to rush your shopping to fulfill your Sunday obligation. You just occupy one monobloc chair in while waiting for Father to take center stage.

But my personal ire goes to the parents who bring their babies in the said establishments. Not the toddlers, although they too can provide an unwanted scene: imagine that child who won’t leave the arcade or the toy store and will summon all his strength and vocal shrieking powers to make his point clear, complete with teleserye tears and lie-on-the-floor antics. I’m referring to babies that are still very fragile. I wonder how they enjoy being brought out when a good percentage of them still couldn’t open their eyes. In my opinion, if the couple really wants to hang out or to do their weekly window shopping, they should leave their offspring at home, where he is better off. Less pollution, less germs, less chance for disasters.

I also am curious as to how the noise and organized chaos around them permeate their brains subliminally. Malling might have been forced into our subconscious. On days I frequent my coffee shop of choice (checking papers), there would be families in nearby tables or couches, and yes, grade schoolers are enjoying their ice-blended coffee drinks, as if every kid is exposed to that. Wow, they are born into it. In contrast, I had my first taste of frappucino when I was in college already. The same argument will hold true for the very young mallrats.

Still, the most annoying for me would be the sight of empty strollers, especially on escalators. My mind instantly entertains the idea that the baby has been plucked from the cart by a stranger while mommy is deciding which color of dress suits her shoes better. Apparently, the child gets tired staying there too, so they have to be carried from time to time. But please, I hope these parents find time to fold their strollers so as not to alarm the paranoid part of the populace.

The malls are really expanding their target markets to include the very young. They have indirect purchasing power: children that nag their parents for the latest trendy (and hopefully lead-free) toy usually succeed, provided they do their part of the barter (better grades, making mano to lola once they get home, and others). Fastfood chains have their kiddie meals. Barber shops solely for kids are emerging; even spas have specialized “kiddie” versions (a more expensive touch therapy). Of late, there are baby counters, the human version of baggage counters. If you want to enjoy your mall weekend without attending to your child, you may opt to leave them at these places. They can hop around all they want (the setting usually resembles a playground), and there are in-house yayas (or teachers) provided. These toddlers, upon observation, are conspicuously enjoying; some even have a hard time leaving the said places. They might exclaim, “my parents really love me; I love this place,” to which one can reply, “yes, they do, but they also love to do things without you.” Of course, couples have various valid reasons on leaving their children, but you get my point. The mall might – no, is – not the best place for babies who still need their vital nutrients.

If there will be a mother freaking out because her baby was snatched from her stroller, don’t tell me I didn’t warn you.

Equivalence Relations

Probably one of the lessons in Mathematics possessing obscure importance is equivalence relations. Fundamentally, an equivalence relation must satisfy three properties: reflexivity, symmetry, and transitivity. Practice makes perfect, so they say, and I guess this is true also in proving that a certain relation satisfies the RST properties. Let’s take on an easy one first: congruent segments. By definition, two segments are congruent if they have the same length.

Claim: Congruence between segments is an equivalence relation.

Reflexivity: any segment is congruent to itself.
This is trivially true, since a segment can only have one measure.

Symmetry: if segment AB is congruent to segment MN, then segment MN is congruent to segment AB.
Again true, since, if AB=MN, then MN=AB by properties of real numbers, and we convert back again to the congruence statement.

Transitivity: if segment AB is congruent to segment MN, and segment MN is congruent to segment XY, then segment AB is congruent to segment XY.
From the two given statements, AB=MN, and MN=XY, so that we can add the left-hand side and right-hand sides of the equations, then cancel MN, then convert back to the congruence statement.

That was rather easy; in fact, proving the same for congruence between angles, congruence between triangles, similarity between triangles, and proportionality of sequences would not take much time, as long as the definitions are clear. Actually, it is more exciting to prove that something is not an equivalence relation. This exercise also invites the person to summon Always-Sometimes-Never powers.

Show: Perpendicularity of lines is not an equivalence relation.

Reflexivity: a line is perpendicular to itself.
Never true. This statement doesn’t make any sense, since a right angle needs to be formed. We can stop right now in our exercise, since an equivalence relation must satisfy all three properties. But let’s still see inspect the other two properties.

Symmetry: if line A is perpendicular to line B, then line B is perpendicular to line A.
Always true.

Transitivity: if line A is perpendicular to line B, and line B is perpendicular to line C, then line A is perpendicular to line C.
This statement is tricky. A and C will never be perpendicular – if there is an additional given that all three lines are coplanar. However, the three lines can be arranged in space so as to satisfy the transitivity statement: they may represent the x, y, and z axes of three-dimensional analytic geometry (or much simpler, the lines containing three edges of a cube sharing a common vertex). Thus, the statement is sometimes true; our two possibilities are enough basis.
[Warning: the transitivity statement above can be restated so as the answer is “never”]

We now move on to equivalence relations applied in “real-life” situations (I put the words “real life” in quotation marks since I find it hard to stomach that not everyone considers Math as real life. Oops haha). Let’s try if we can have similar assessments to other non-Math relations.

Prove/disprove: Being siblings is an equivalence relation.

Reflexivity: any person is a sibling of himself/herself.
Never true, by definition.

Symmetry: if A is a sibling of B, then B is a sibling of A.
Always true.

Transitivity: if A is a sibling of B, and B is a sibling of C, then A is a sibling of C.
Always true. However, if the definition of a sibling is tweaked so as to allow half-brothers and half-sisters, we will have a new answer.

Prove/disprove: Being cousins is an equivalence relation.

Reflexivity: any person is a cousin of himself/herself.
Never true.

Symmetry: if A is a cousin of B, then B is a cousin of A.
Always true.

Transitivity: if A is a cousin of B, and B is a cousin of C, then A is a cousin of C.
This allows for the possibility that A and C are siblings, making them non-cousins. A and C may also be totally unrelated, if they are cousins of B on different parental sides (thus the term “pinsan ng pinsan”). But A, B, and C may all come from the second generation of actual siblings, so the statement is sometimes true.

Prove/disprove: Being a “better half” is an equivalence relation. (for purposes of clarity, we limit our domain to married people)

Reflexivity: any person is the better half of himself/herself.
Never true.

Symmetry: if A is the better half of B, then B is the better half of A.
Always true. Probably A and B may argue that, if both of them are better halves, then what’s the use of using “better”?

Transitivity: if A is the better half of B, and B is the better half of C, then A is the better half of C.
Never true. It would take a totally strange society that will allow the statement to be possible.

Prove/disprove: Being a best friend is an equivalence relation.

Reflexivity: any person is the best friend of himself/herself.
In my opinion, intrapersonal skills are very important, if not mandatory, but I guess we can have a definition to make the statement never true. Think Johari’s window.

(Let’s skip symmetry first)
Transitivity: if A is the best friend of B, and B is the best friend of C, then A is the best friend of C.
Strictly speaking, the statement should never be true if “best” implies only one. This usually happens in an intimate circle of friends (barkada). But probably to make it a “sometimes” statement, all the “the’s” should be replaced with “a’s”. It might be pointless to use the word “best” if it will not refer to an upper bound, and maybe “better fiends” will be a more appropriate terms. But we are allowed to make our own definitions by now, and you can have a best friend from childhood, high school, college, choir, and so on.

Symmetry: if A is the best friend of B, then B is the best friend of A.
Surprisingly, this is not always true (think “A Separate Peace”). Although most best friends-ship are mutual, there might be some that can be hard to fathom. Though settling the question is not as important as the friendship.

If you have found that one best friend, congratulations.

Routine 3

You proceed with your afternoon classes. You have always wished that all your classes are set in the morning, but the midshift is the best you can get. Somehow, the heat can be unnerving, but you disregard the discomfort. Finally, your classes are done.

You wash your hands again; you have accumulated chalkdust all over. You remove the powder on your black pants, and your hair looks like it was attacked by the dandruff monster. You clean yourself up, and you work again.

Even if you can technically go home already, you stay, since MTP is scheduled after classes. So, while waiting for your trainees, you check more papers. You notice that you used to be very fast in checking, but now you’re just fast. Your speed in checking is degrading every schoolyear; apparently you find something else to do. Checking, or correcting, papers is very tedious; it’s a good thing you adjusted pretty fast to this craft. You record the scores by alternating a black pen (for passing marks) and a red pen (for failing marks). You would want that you never shift to your red pen, but unfortunately, you use it, sometimes almost as often as the black one.

If you get hungry, you go to the cafeteria, either alone or with the other Math teachers. You chat with present and former students along the way. You try your best not to eat your food immediately; you will get hungry again by the time you’re back at the Math Unit, so you save your food for later.

You shift to your more comfortable shoes. You prepare the training materials – illustration boards, erasers, chalk, scratch paper, and the contest questions. Between 4:10 and 4:20, you bring your stuff inside either the Geom or Algeb Room (whichever room the junior/senior trainees will spare). You wait for your trainees. They come by section, place their bags on their assigned seats, then leave again, usually for the caf. This process will continue around four times, and they will settle just before you realize that more than fifteen minutes flew by that fast.

You proceed with the training. You are constantly amazed as how your prized talents perform on extreme time pressure even if they are not always serious. You share a laugh or two, even assigning them nicknames they abhor. After the Math mini-showdown, you ask some of them to stay to help in tallying the scores and in bringing back the training materials back to the Math Faculty Center.

You were exposed to more chalk, so you wash up again. You decide which things to bring at home, and wait if students will come up to consult. You chat again with your colleagues who are still working. When everyone’s ready, you go down the stairs. At the front lobby, some students will greet you; you greet back. You swipe your ID, and decide if you will go home immediately or not. If you have other papers to check, you usually do not go home directly, for the bed is just too tempting. On lighter days, you walk towards Quezon Avenue and ride the first of two jeepneys that will bring you home.

You rest after arriving, then proceed to the washroom to freshen up. After wearing comfy clothes, you watch what’s left of the nightly news. You wait for your cousin for dinner; you make it a point to eat with her. You share stories at the dinner table, even the most trivial ones. After eating, you get your cellular phone to send text messages to friends and students. If there is a class activity, you compose a group message for your homeroom class. It’s a good thing you always subscribe to unlimited message services. You contact students you need – for homeroom, geom, math training, or other matters. You are glad when they reply as soon as possible.

At around 9 PM, you start working. You usually end before midnight, then you set your alarm for the next day. The bulk of your take home work is still checking papers. Sometimes, you make an outline for tomorrow’s lesson (but you have already done this during the weekend). You are in constant texting with people. On very rare times, you call your friends using your landline phone, or they call you. Many of your friends are still in their respective offices past dinner, so they cannot afford to be too loud in conversing, or their bosses will notice. Most of the time, you are by your lonesome, with pad papers at hand. If you are in the mood, you try to be distracted by local TV. Otherwise, you lie on the bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking of whatever.

You brush your teeth and get ready for bed. You switch off the lights. On tiring days, you fall asleep in an instant. On most days however, while searching for your comfortable position, you think about the day’s events. Another day has concluded, and you psyche yourself for tomorrow’s routine.

Routine 2

You walk by the flagpole area. There would be times when you arrive early enough for the flag ceremony. You turn right, and then left, towards the machine that asks you to “enter your fingerprint” after swiping your ID. You usually give way to the other people who will swipe too, knowing that your shift starts at 9AM, and theirs probably started already. You are usually more than an hour early for your shift. You then read (or try to make sense of) the messages on the bulletin board, and see if any of the announcements will concern you or your students. On some days, you withdraw money from the Landbank ATM.

On days that you are early (before 7:30AM), you still encounter students in the front lobby, and each group will have its turn in saying “hi sir”. You respond by either nodding or smiling. Sometimes you do not respond at all, again due to your shy nature, or if there are other male teachers around (since they might be the “sir” they are referring to). Most of them will comment that you look like you are “bagong gising”. You conclude that you’re an expert in looking like such.

You turn to the stairs. Reaching the second floor, you will walk past the CISD and SSD, then walk up to the fourth floor. This has always been your path of choice, and more students pass by and greet. It’s harder to recognize the faces now, since the halls are badly lit. You check the Math Bulletin Board, if the things you posted are still intact. You proceed to the Math Faculty Center, where you spend most of your time.

You greet the teachers inside earlier than you, and you place your bag on your chair. You check if there are messages or other stuff placed on your table. You rest for about 10 minutes while chatting with people who still do not have a class. You turn on the Math Unit PC. You remove your commuting shoes, and place your feet inside your leather shoes. You look at your really worn out commuting shoes, plan to buy a new one, but postpone it since the shoes are still functioning (though already ugly) and you find it hard to let go (plus you’re extremely kuripot). You bring out your uniform for the day, and prepare your grooming stuff. You then proceed to the washroom, supposedly exclusive for male faculty, but there’s a good chance that a student is inside.

You wash your hands. On extremely polluted days, you wash your face again (if not, your happy spray will do). You change your clothes. You then fix your hair. Contrary to popular belief, you do not enjoy fixing yourself especially your hair. Students might be surprised to see a somehow unkempt you on weekends. Your hair is very unruly, and you need quite a strong product to keep it in place. If you had it your way, you would have your hair long, but your work doesn’t allow that. You also wanted to keep it really short, but you will be perpetually mistaken as a student. It takes time for you to be satisfied with your “sculpture”, knowing that the electric fans in the classroom will eventually ruin your creation.

While waiting for your classes, you continue chatting with Math colleagues, while doing schoolwork. You check quizzes, record scores, or prepare pad papers. Sometimes you find time to check your mail. You look at your outline for today, and make mental notes for your lesson/activity for the day. These are prepared days, even weeks before. Teaching the same subject for four years makes you practically a master, and you constantly think of ways to give your lessons a new twist (and hope, your students notice). The second bell rings, you get chalk, and you enter your arena.

You greet the students, settle them, and proceed with your 45-minute show. Usually, you are surprised to hear the bell, but there will be days when the period seems to go on for two hours, combining your sleep-inducing time slot, the uncooperative weather, and the prevailing nonchalance towards your subject. Hence you tap your inner genius/wacko to give keep them on their toes. Super corny jokes are common nowadays, and apparently, you can keep up with them, ready with a rebuttal any time a new one pops up. You wonder who’s the cause of this “corny-ness,” but you’d like to think it’s not you.

Lunchtime. You wash you hands, and go down four floors. You encounter current and former students along the way. You have always wanted to have a ticker (or whatever you call it) to count how many times you are greeted in one day. One of your coteachers comment that you are suplado to them, but you think otherwise. You are just not as verbal in greeting. In this short time span, you are somehow updated on some of your former students, and you like that idea.

In the cafeteria, you usually find it hard which viand to choose, but you always settle for heavier meat; fish just won’ last that long digestion-wise. You sometimes buy a half-order of a vegetable, and occasionally, you pick a dessert. Before, you have your microwavable container and place half of your lunch there. This is multi-purpose: you are not as full when you get back at your afternoon classes, and you have something to eat if you get hungry. You also save money supposedly for your merienda. You are trying to revive this habit of yours, but there are days when you can eat a horse.

You are back in the Math Faculty Center, and talk with coteachers about anything. You head again towards the washroom, this time to brush your teeth. Before the bell for your class rings, you try to grab a nap on the sofa, but throwing funny stories with your click is just way more fun. You never noticed that half your day is done already.

*to be continued*