Our new batch president, Miguel Arcilla, was my childhood playmate, neighbor, classmate, partner in crime. His parents were not actually happy with our friendship because they thought I was a bad influence.
I have no idea why they would think of me that way. Siguro dahil I always called him to play outside. Minsan merong asong ulol nasa gitna ng kalye. Eh si Tigi, ginulat “hoooo”, eh di nagwala yung aso. Ulul na nga eh gugulatin pa, Hayun eh di hinabol kaming dalawa. Buti na lang matulin akong tumakbo. I saw a cemented fence, in a flash naakyat ko yun. Sya, naka takbo rin pero hindi ko na matandaan kung umakyat sya dun sa kabilang bakod na may kawayan. Ako sa semento. Ang problema ko, matagal ng umuwi yung aso, ako nadun pa rin sa taas ng bakod, trying to figure out how to get down. My father came looking for me and found me perched on top of the fence. “Anon’g ginagawa mo dyan, kutakutakot itong bata na ito”. Of course I just went with him quietly. Bawal mag reason-out. Bawal sumagot at baka tsinelas ang abutin ko.
When we were in grade 4, my grades were low, overshadowed by my more studious classmates. My dream was just to pass. My teacher had a class favorite, sobrang saludo sya, paborito sa klase. Wala ako dun sa listahan. I forgot the name of our teacher. I would not be able recognize her face if I see her. Baka patay na sya. Naku hwag sana akong multuhin. There are a few images that I still vividly remember to this day. One is yung umiihi sya sa likod ng blackboard. Meron syang lata ng pineapple juice doon, ginagawa nyang urinola (or arinola) tapos uutusan nya yung mga classmate ko na boys na itapon yung ihi nya sa likod ng classroom sa may palayan (kawawang palay). Pag recess syempre naglalaro sa loob ng classroom yung mga lalaki, makukulit, nabangga nung mga nagtatakbuhan yung blackboard. Tumumba, sumigaw si teacher. Kitang-kita ko nakaupo sya sa lata, nakataas yung palda nya. Kung bakit naman kasi ang tamad nyang pumunta dun sa toilet malapit sa puno ng mangga. Sumigaw sya, luminga sa amin, eh nakatayo ako at nakatingin sa kanya. Hayun, natamaan nya ako ng tingin, badshot na naman ako. Wala naman akong kinalaman sa pagbangga sa blackboard, tiningnan nya ako ng masama. Siguro binawasan na naman ang grades ko kaya parang spaghetti pababa ng pababa. Moral lesson: pagmay umiihi, wag titingin.
Ang handwriting ko parang kinahig ng manok sabi ng mama ko. Tip— pagmaganda ang sulat mo, masarap tingnan, madaling basahin, matutuwa ang teacher, kaya pasado ka agad.
Pagkamulkamol, maiinis yung teacher, She will not bother reading it and would just give you a low mark. That’s what happened to me. Oh baka talagang mali ang mga sagot ko.
Yung teacher namin, sobrang bilib na bilib dun sa isang classmate ko. Magaling naman talaga sya and her handwriting was perfect. Parang sulat teacher. Her notebook was really well organized with lots of clippings. She really poured time and effort into it. Her notes became my teacher’s bible. Wala ng pinuri kundi yun. Lahat na lang galing dun sa notebook. Parang yun na lang lagi ang pinupuri nya, and she used that as example. “Gayahin nyo si…”. “O tumulad kayo kay..”
One day, parang nainis ako. Lagi na lang ganun. Dalawa na lang kami ni Tigi na naiwan sa classroom. Meron akong bright idea. Since yung notebook na lang na yun ang pinupuri ni teacher, kukunin na lang namin ni Tigi yun para simple ang buhay namin. So I suggested to Tigi that we just get that notebook anyway our teacher likes it. The teacher left the notebook on her desk. Tigi and I took it home. We dissected it, cut it up, took some of the clippings and pasted them on our own respective notebooks. Whalaaa, our notebooks were as nice and informative as hers.
See how easy.
The next day, we returned the shattered notebook on the teacher’s desk.
What’s next? Who were the criminals? Very easy to find these two naughty kids. The missing clippings were found pasted on the pages of their notebooks. Gotcha!! Catcha!
Ooops, my bright idea was not bright after all. Instead of instantly becoming the new teacher’s favorite, nadagdagan pa ang inis nya sa akin, at idinamay ko pa si Tigi. His name couldn’t be tarnished because his mom, Ka Chayong, was one of the senior teachers there. She was well loved and respected.
Syempre ipinatawag sa principal’s office ang mama at papa ko. Oh my God it felt like doomsday. I was just waiting for my papa to say “Dapaaaa! Uulitin mo pa ba?” (There was no way that I could do it again, to begin with there was only one notebook).
I dreaded the thought that my papa’s leather belt would land on my butt. Some miracle happened. He didn’t scold nor hit me. I heard my papa and mama talking about the incident. My papa said “maloko talaga yang anak mo, paano yan makakapasa.”
That incident created the perception that I was not bright. Eh talaga naman. Tingnan mo naman yung strategy ko, palpak!!! I was 9. And syempre, in the minds of Tigi’s parents, what happened validated their belief that I was a bad influence on their youngest child. After that, I was barred from entering their gates. So I would just yell at Tigi from their gate which was some 10 meters away from their front door.. “Tigiiiii tiggiiiii, gusto mong maglaro?”
He would not answer. His mom or dad would say “wala sya ditooo”.
Your story put a smile on my face. Nakaka aliw. Well at least at a young age, u were thinking what to do because u want change. Iyong grades o katalinuhan d talaga iyan lang ang measurement ng success in life. Marami di ginagamit ang katalinuhan.
I’m amazed (and amused as well) that you still have vivid memories of our childhood days. Yes, I remember how, 50 years ago, we dissected that bible of a notebook. It was not our classmate’s but that of the previous batch’s valedictorian. It was a common practise of teachers during that time to retain the best notebook from the previous batch and make it as template for the current school year.
One particular incident that stuck in my mind was when you were chosen as one of five (or six) angels that would lead a Christmas parade. The teacher sketched the white robe, wings and halo that you would have to wear. Since she was not that good in drawing, your mom (who was a good dressmaker) took it as a short white dress and made it according to the sketch’s proportions. Came parade time, you were the only angel wearing mini skirt. The other angels wore their mom’s long white dusters.
Memories…memories.
Tigi, How come I don’t have a slightest recollection of that angel thing? I am now trying to dig into my memory bank. Ang cute ko siguro, little angel in mini skirt. Sayang no photos.