In solitary confinement ...

I am. For at least the next seven days. Probably more.

I am now under room arrest. I've taken over Gabi's 3rd floor loft where I've temporarily set up shop. My computer and printer were brought in from the office together with that large plastic container of "urgent" work files.

Now I am beginning to understand the loneliness Erap went through while under house arrest in his palatial Tanay vacation house. It's not the lack of earthly goods that makes one lonely. Though I don't have Erap's swan pond and giant flat screen TVs, I do have the essentials: Wifi, my coffee press and accessories and my iTunes.

But being separated from Patty and Gabi, who are now confined to the 1st and 2nd floors. That is what really stabs at the heart.

I have the Shingles. Otherwise known as Herpes Zoster. Some form of adult chickenpox.

The rashes are all over my left back and extends to my left armpit and part of my left chest. (Pati ba naman sa sakit, e puro left side?)

To allay the fears of those I've gotten in touch with the past few days and to remove the naughty smiles and thoughts I'm sure some of you are now entertaining, here's a medical description of what I have. Straight from www.medicinenet.com:

What is shingles? What causes shingles?

Shingles is a skin rash caused by the same virus that causes chickenpox. The virus responsible for these conditions is called Varicella zoster. After an individual has chickenpox, this virus lives in the nerves and is never fully cleared from the body. Under certain circumstances, such as emotional stress, immune deficiency (from AIDS or chemotherapy) or with cancer, the virus re-activates causing shingles. In most cases, however, a cause for the reactivation of the virus is never found. The herpes virus that causes shingles and chicken pox is not the same as the herpes virus that causes genital herpes (which can be sexually transmitted) and herpes mouth sores. Shingles is medically termed Herpes zoster.

What are symptoms of shingles? How long does shingles last?

Before a rash is visible, the patient may notice several days to a week of burning pain and sensitive skin. Shingles start as small blisters on a red base, with new blisters continuing to form for three to five days. The blisters follow the path of individual nerves that comes out of the spinal cord (called dermatomal pattern). The entire path of the nerve may be involved or there may be areas with blisters and areas without blisters. Generally, only one nerve level is involved. In a rare case, more than one nerve will be involved. Eventually, the blisters pop and the area starts to ooze. The area will then crust over and heal. The whole process may take three to four weeks from start to finish. On occasion, the pain will be present but the blisters may never appear. This can be a very confusing cause of local pain!

Are shingles contagious?

Yes, shingles is contagious. Shingles can be spread from an affected person to children or adults who have not had chickenpox. Instead of developing shingles, these people develop chickenpox. Once they have had chickenpox, people cannot catch shingles (or contract the virus) from someone else. Once infected, however, people have the potential to develop shingles later in life.

Shingles is contagious to people that have not previously had chicken pox, as long as there are new blisters forming and old blisters healing. Once all of the blisters are crusted over, the virus can no longer be spread.

The Fetish for Grades (by Ricardo G. Abad)

I once surprised my sociology class with this question: “How many of you,” I asked, “will stop coming to this class if I assure you, right now, a passing grade of D for the course?” Four people raised their hands. I raised the ante: “What if I assure you a grade of B?” Half the class raised their hands. “What then if I give you a grade of B+ or A?” All but two of my 47 sophomores, among the best of their batch, raised their hands. “So,” I said, “it’s the grade that matters, doesn’t it, not the learning you’ll get in this course?” And this applies to you and many students too, no? Silence filled the room. A few bowed their heads in shameful supplication. Supplication to whom, I wondered: the god of grades?

This fixation for grades – ratings, points, or any number used to measure school success -- has long been seen to undermine education. These numbers box learning and overlook dimensions of success that are difficult to quantify, among them the creativity and enthusiasm of students. Yet the practice persists, and with little protest. Who’s to blame? The students? Not really. The fault, I think, lies less on the students but in a system that has grown too dependent on numbers.

The academic lives of students have been ruled for years by all sorts of numbers. Students qualified for admission on the basis of test scores that become the basis for sifting them into sections, tracks or programs. They enroll for subjects that meet a set number of units – this many hours for science, for example, and that many for the humanities. They also take a fixed number of units per semester.

Students also talk with guidance counselors who enlighten them on personality traits or career options based on another set of scores, displayed sometimes in nifty-looking graphs.

Students are then evaluated through a point system that demarcates what’s passing or failing, excellent or mediocre. They quickly learn that academic survival depends on reaching a certain number of points. The high pointers win praise, while the numerically challenged suffer various degrees of social stigma. And since no one wants to be branded as a scholastic idiot, students carefully track the number of cuts they have, and spend hours calculating their imagined final grades. The school system, they also discover, doesn’t round off decimals that may spell the difference between passing and failing – this arithmetical procedure would compromise academic standards. Knowing this, students figure out that survival in school is a game of millimeters where every damn point counts.

School bureaucracies need units, points, quotas, and ratings to operate efficiently. These numbers plot profiles, tally trends, facilitate forecasts, and balance budgets. They even help set norms for equity and fairness in academic practice. A grading system also links schools to outside worlds -- companies, foundations, families, and other schools -- that interpret report cards and transcripts as indicators of human worth.

But grades and cuts also act as instruments of conformity and control. They force students to attend courses that mean little to them. They warn students to tow the line. They also mold the academic identity of students, roughly classifying them as good, average or bad. Good students enter honors programs. Average students stay in regular programs. Bad students are banished into exile. Theirs is not the kingdom of heavenly summas.

Numerical ratings have their uses. But these ratings can kill learning when the quest for a good grade becomes a fetish, the primary measure of academic success. This fetish makes students play it safe: why question the teacher at the risk of failure or a low grade? The fetish also limits class performance: why bother working hard when less work results in a good grade? Why join discussions if class participation comprises a small percentage of the final mark? Or, why don’t I say what the teacher wants to hear so I can get a high grade? The fetish also dissuades active involvement in co-curricular activities and invites cheating. Why spend lots of time in a student club when it will lower the chances of getting a high grade? Why not copy answers to deal with the pressure of grades?

I stand in front of my class, looking at students who have started to acquire the fetish for grades. Will they learn sociology? I can’t say. Some will and some won’t. Like the love that may come after marriage, it’s a learning that may come after enrollment. Much will depend on the teacher to make the class enjoyable and enriching.

But aye, there’s the rub! For in a system addicted to a fetish for numbers, the burden of learning falls into the weary laps of teachers. Instructors must now master two kinds of knowledge, an academic discipline and a student-centered pedagogy. But the mastery of these two kinds of knowledge will bring success if the school (and the society that breeds the schools) continually worships numbers. Only when the system --and the students-- detach themselves a bit more from the fetish of numbers will teachers be able to heighten creativity and intellectual independence in the classroom.

Students complain that many of their classes are boring. Many don’t even remember the names of former teachers. Students have become comfortable sitting in “silent classrooms” where only the teacher’s voice or the sound of a film or video is heard. They can’t wait for the bell to ring. They are a “hostile class” - a bunch of students who are there because they have to, initially indifferent to the subject, and desirous to get a high grade with the minimum possible work.

The situation will stay for sometime. The system must change, but I cannot wait for change to happen before I can act in the here and now. Maybe it’s not too late. I’ll have students enjoy sociology. I’ll treat them to a feast of insights. I’ll open their minds and hearts. Perhaps some will care more for learning than the grade. Perhaps a few will take another sociology course. Who knows? At this moment, I’ll simply make their brief encounter with me as luscious and exotic as, well, a guava in Ethiopia.

Dear Ricky,

I was in that SA 21 class you mention in your 2004 article. In 1985, it was.

But then again you probably made that dare more than once.

I was one of those who bowed my head in shameful supplication.

Alas, this fetish for grades extends outside the classroom and into professional life. Sad that many remain obsessed with titles and certificates of recognition.

I enjoyed your class. I enjoyed your mentoring in TA. And although I never graduated (I still cringe when I recall your rushing to the dressing room when you heard of my series of Incomplete Grades. I disappointed you, I must admit), I am proud to shout to the world that of the many things I did learn in school, many of nuggets of wisdom I continue to hold dear to this day, I learned from you.

You indeed are worthy of top teacher's honors. And belated as it may seem, I just want to thank you not just for teaching me introductory SA or college theater acting, but more so for imparting in me and the hundreds of wannabe actors and actresses who made TA their home throughout the years, that passion for life that is so well… Ricky Abad.

Thank you, Ricks! I miss you.

Happy birthday, Gel!

Thanks, Michelle! Thanks for sharing your Facebook note with all of us. Galing mo. You beat all of us to the punch.

Happy birthday, Gel! Thank you for still being there, after more than two decades. Still fixing things for me, like the first time 21 years ago when you came to the rescue -- okay, okay, we kidnapped you! -- of two clueless lads named Robbi and Bert and made their car work again.

We watched you tinker with the car --- was it the Mercado avocado green wagon? --- and dirty yourself while we watched. You made it run, which was more than what we hoped for, and we left you with a hasty thank you.

Only the following day did we realize it was your birthday! Oh man, how embarrassing.

And how touching.

We used you. We abused you. On your birthday too. And nary a complaint from TA's resident fix it man. A man we all christened Gelzon McGyver. A man who started the fatigue workman look that Ria eventually got "tired" of. (Thanks, Ria. We could never muster the courage to tell Gel that rebellious green was no longer the fashion.) A man who continues to be of Good Housekeeping-grade service, not just to friends who continue to abuse him, but more so to Ria, Isabel and Miguela and the extended family he has learned to love.

Thank you, Gel, for extending McGyver's run way beyond Season 24 . Thank you for being nerdier than me. (Believe me, it's a relief to know that I am somewhat normal).

And thank you for being Gabi's nonong and Patty's friend. You're a great friend, the best anyone could ever hope for. And what I will never forget is that when I was at my lowest, you and Bert were there. Always. And forever.

Josh Groban's You Raise Me Up always reminds me of the two of you. (Okay, not when I sing it. And don't you dare try to sing it! Si Bert pa, I'm sure can do justice to the song. Pakingan na lang natin si Bert.)

Happy 41st, my friend!

And dude... sira nanaman yung Montero. Baka naman ...