Tinikling in the Midwest

A month ago, I was invited by Carol (Bob's wife), a Columbia elementary school teacher, to participate in a mini-Olympics that her school was going to hold among their students. She initially told me that I was to teach her second grade students some games I had played as a child in the Philippines. I immediately said yes, thinking that it was a great opportunity to share my culture with American kids. So, I sat down to think of which of my childhood games I would teach them. (Ok, I confess. I consulted the Internet.)

However, a week later, she told me that she had heard that there was a traditional Philippine dance called the Tinikling, and asked me (actually, she kind of just told me) to teach that instead. Now, Carol is a very assertive woman, and because of this, I automatically nodded my assent. After five minutes, I realized that I had agreed to teach a dance that I had never actually danced myself. Hmmm. Trouble.

I tried to get out of this dilemma by telling her that I could only teach them the dance if we had very specific Tinikling music. I was confident that she would not be able to find this in mid-Missouri. But she is a very resourceful woman, so she managed to whip up an old LP (as in vinyl!) record of Tinikling music, some PVC pipes and blocks we could use instead of bamboo, and she even found some Champola wafer sticks to give the students as well. (She got it from a Filipino store I had never even heard of.) So, it looked like I was committed to being a Tinikling DI.

The day of the mini-Olympics arrived. Seven classes from kinder-garten, 1st and 2nd grade joined the activity. Each class represented a country, and Carol's class of course represented the Philippines. The concept of the activity was- each classroom represented one country, and the children would "travel" to each of them. In the classroom, they would participate in an activity and eat some food that country was known for. The students even had a passport that was to be stamped in each destination they went to.

What this meant for me was that I had to teach Tinikling to all the seven classes that came into "the Philippines". Surprisingly, the children really got into it, even if they were only five, six or seven-year-olds (then again, maybe it was precisely their age that made them enjoy it). It was tiring to have to explain what the dance was about, what the steps were, to seven different classes. When I wasn't teaching the class, I would be the one holding the poles.

So, after two straight hours of Tinikling, I was exhausted. It was a gratifying experience though, because all the kids looked like they had fun. Some of them came up to me after the activity, hugged me and said they wished I would go back to speak to them again. Aww. Children always manage to worm their way into your heart, especially after you see that they personally tie-dyed their t-shirts to match the colors of the Philippine flag.

But hugs and kisses or not, I've surely had enough of our national dance to last me a lifetime.