Our Turn
Working for a children's show for more than 3 years was great. The show breathed its last episode last May 2002 but I still haven't gotten fully over it.
We worked with kids, who graduated from the show when they turned 14. Then we accepted new hosts 8 years old and above, who stayed and grew up in the show until it was their turn to say goodbye.
But we, producers, were always the ones left behind. Like sturdy trees witnessing the passing of the seasons, we were observers of their growth and stayed constant doing the same work (shooting, writing, and editing), but never going through the same experiences because we worked with different kids.
Sometimes, during merienda time, we huddled in the office kitchen and marveled at how fast these kids grew up. Their changes in clothes, hairstyle and voice pitch were the main topics of our lives. One of us may had even bumped into a show's graduate from 2 years back. We were shocked to find out that he/she already had a boy/girlfriend. We celebrated when one of them won in a contest or appeared in a commercial. And we were tickled pink when they remembered our birthdays and asked us how we are.
Now, we've all gone our separate ways-- both hosts and producers. We, producers, have lost our objects of our fascination. For a while, (or maybe even a long time), we struggle with this unfamiliar loss and we travel our live's paths still dazed. But eventually, we learn that there are still some things we can be fascinated with -- like our own growth. It's our turn to take that first out-of-the-country trip that is not work-related, our turn to risk trying out another job and see if it'll love us back just as warmly, our turn to write about our own stories, not as TV scripts, but as life-defining choices.
Everytime I meet up with a co-producer, I always look for these good changes. I am happy to hear that M finds fulfillment in her current job and has a blooming lovelife. I'm proud of J's plans of buying a car and learning how to drive. D has now moved out of her parent's house. And I'm so pleased that A has made a crazy, happy decision to have a 500-peso haircut. These are things we wouldn't have achieved back in the no-money-but-good-ol' days.
And whenever we get together with the (no-longer) kiddie hosts and we tell them these things, it's nice to know that they are as proud of us as we are of them.
We worked with kids, who graduated from the show when they turned 14. Then we accepted new hosts 8 years old and above, who stayed and grew up in the show until it was their turn to say goodbye.
But we, producers, were always the ones left behind. Like sturdy trees witnessing the passing of the seasons, we were observers of their growth and stayed constant doing the same work (shooting, writing, and editing), but never going through the same experiences because we worked with different kids.
Sometimes, during merienda time, we huddled in the office kitchen and marveled at how fast these kids grew up. Their changes in clothes, hairstyle and voice pitch were the main topics of our lives. One of us may had even bumped into a show's graduate from 2 years back. We were shocked to find out that he/she already had a boy/girlfriend. We celebrated when one of them won in a contest or appeared in a commercial. And we were tickled pink when they remembered our birthdays and asked us how we are.
Now, we've all gone our separate ways-- both hosts and producers. We, producers, have lost our objects of our fascination. For a while, (or maybe even a long time), we struggle with this unfamiliar loss and we travel our live's paths still dazed. But eventually, we learn that there are still some things we can be fascinated with -- like our own growth. It's our turn to take that first out-of-the-country trip that is not work-related, our turn to risk trying out another job and see if it'll love us back just as warmly, our turn to write about our own stories, not as TV scripts, but as life-defining choices.
Everytime I meet up with a co-producer, I always look for these good changes. I am happy to hear that M finds fulfillment in her current job and has a blooming lovelife. I'm proud of J's plans of buying a car and learning how to drive. D has now moved out of her parent's house. And I'm so pleased that A has made a crazy, happy decision to have a 500-peso haircut. These are things we wouldn't have achieved back in the no-money-but-good-ol' days.
And whenever we get together with the (no-longer) kiddie hosts and we tell them these things, it's nice to know that they are as proud of us as we are of them.
1 Comments:
i don't think we'll ever fully get over it. the desk in my office is tacked full of pictures of the prods, of the kids, of travels we had together and when i have 60 seconds to myself, i gaze at them, take a deep breath and i'm back there. the voices are so near, the vision so vivid. then i realize, those were the best years of my life. and i smile. dr. seuss was right: don't cry because it's over; smile because it happened. :)
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Data Tolentino-Canlas, At
7:37 PM
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