SCHOOL DAY MEMORIES

After graduating from the Rizal Academy, in 1958, I enrolled at the UST, College of Philosophy and Letters. This is where they offered Journalism courses: not only English grammar and Composition but also History and Philosophy. And every male student had to take up ROTC where you spent hours under the sun following orders like a real soldier. For me, this is one of the most useless subjects in College, including Spanish 1 to 8 which you have to take, or else there would be no Diploma.

UST by the way stands for University of Sto. Tomas, the oldest religious school in the Philippines. It is run by the Dominican Order.Some students from other schools called it Utot Sabay Tae. Just to make fun, of course.

last days of high school

Leaving the nest for the first time to go to the Big City must be one of the saddest experiences I ever had. When I was in 4th year high school I experienced  the angst of growing up. I disliked many of my classmates and teachers. Naturally, those classmates disliked me too. It was a sort of Catch 22 thing, like a never ending circle, like a dog chasing its own tail.

"I could not wait til we get out of this -------school!" I would tell my school buddies.

"Yeah, me too!" one would answer during one of our gab sessions in one of the dried-up fountains in the town plaza. So we all looked forward to graduation day when we could leave the school and the town. We were not serious with our studies anymore. Most of what we did were some last minute mischiefs. We hide or steal the books of kids we don't like. We did not listen to the teacher. We chatted softly while she explained something in class. All of a sudden she would scream at us to stop. We would stop. When she resumed her lecture, we would start talking again. Funny, but we did not do it with the male teachers.

Graduation came and went. All of us passed, but I think more than half of my classmates deserved to stay one more year to earn better grades. They preferred horsing around rather than reading their books. Just like me. But at least I get good grades in class exams. But most of them got below the passing grade. One commented: "Why study? U P, U Pass", When the school administrator heard him, his face became red. Then he delivered a scathing lecture to thewhole class for the rest of the period.

I spent the lastweeks of summer vacation hanging out with Nestor Villanueva, Cesar Alejo and some other guys from Calawagan. We loved music, singing the current hits of Paul Anka, Elvis Presley, Tommy Sands, Pat Boone or the Platters. Cesar had a nice tenor voice. We usually saw each other after supper and we hanged out in Nestor's house, under their Ilang-Ilang tree. They had a nice bench round the tree trunk. And the air smelled so sweet. And sometimes, they gave us freshly boiled peanuts. Nestor and I could play the ukelele and the guitar.After our session, he and Cesar would bring  me home. They want to be sure nobody would mug me in some dark corner of the town plaza.. (Nestor, I believe is now in California. I do not know where Cesar is. Somebody told me he is already gone from this life.)

enrollment time

IN the middle of May, I went to Manila to enroll at the UST. My cousin who is a coed at that school helped me in the enrollment process. Being the last days before the school, the lines were so long and tempers were so short. I should have done it April, right after graduation. But then I did not know still know what course to take. Fine Arts or Journalism? Or Engineering?. I usually end it with BAHALA NA!I kept postphoning my choice. Instead, I went out for picnics in the CARAYAN or in MITORA until the "days dwindled down to a precious few". When I finally made my choice, it was a few weeks before school. Universities were packed like a Market Place before Christmas Day.

After enrolling myself, I decided to go back to Asingan one more time. The school would start in a few more days anyway. The school did not begin yet, but I was already homesick. So that day, I took the last Pantranco bus for Asingan and was home at about 8:00 pm that night. Only then I realized how comfy your own house is, how much you loved your parents, your brothers and sisters. Even the dogs are so happy to see you back!

That must have been the shortest week ever. When the time came again to go back to Manila, the PARADAAN was filled with young people waiting for the same bus which was still to come from San Manuel. Some came from the barrios and they also wanted to be on that first trip.When the bus arrived and I had to go up to find a seat ( I think my dad did it for me ) I felt so bad. I did not want to go. I could have bawled right there, but there were girls sitting in the same row as my seat. And I know them. And they are laughing, not crying.It would be embarassing, no?I had no choice. I paid half of my tuition fee already. When the bus started, I saw the view of Asingan slowly dissapearing and soon we were on the fields between Domanpot and Bactad.

I just stared blankly at the passing scenery. It was going to be a very long trip to Manila.I learned that once you are already out of a place that's the time you would start loving it..

( to be continued )