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(I am dedicating this
article to my batchmates in Leyte National High School, batch 1986 who are
spending so many hours organizing for our first grand reunion this December
29, 2004 after 18 years.)
I have been reading the mails
of old friends and classmates and I must say they all bring back the good
times. One cannot simply forget high school life. It is the ultimate stage
of madness: puppy love, independence, group sex for those more adventurous
and much more.
I remember my first day when all the nervousness and hysteria kept pounding
me while taking the entrance exam with over a thousand other applicants.
When I finally got in, I meditated because I was going to embark on a new
chapter of my life. Sure enough, I was greeted with teachers who embraced
"terrorism" in class like our "Pilipino" subject under Ms. Fejer who enjoyed
the Socratic method of teaching with an abundance of sarcasm in the air.
Mrs. Tan, our English teacher looked impeccable and commanding. We had to
speak English for the entire time otherwise a fine of 10 cents each time we
spoke "Waray" was the penalty. We joined boy scout activities with a camping
event as the highlight. Mark reckoned that I didn't know any chores because
at that time I was desperately in love with the piano. Well, I tried to help
them with the dishes even if it was against my will. Arnel and Romel
exchanged some bitter words over territorial issues. The incident seems to
be vague now but some might enlighten me with the real story. They made up
their friendship after awhile.
Second year was more liberating because we already conquered the first
stage. Our English class organized a play for a school competition. It was
called "Mirinisa" with Lyra as the lovely princess caught in a heavy duel
between Mark and Arnel, and I was the datu. I distinctly remember the
endless rehearsals we did during our English class while our teacher, Ms.
Lorenzo watched lazily not having to worry about the lesson for the day. It
was an admonishing situation for me because I resented being in the play. I
had no idea why I was chosen to play the role of the datu when I was
literally small and Arnel was overpowering. He should have taken the role
instead. Nevertheless, we managed third in the competition against the
formidable seniors who seemed to think they ruled the world.
Aside from academics, our social life was shaping with Tinoy as the "bulangkoy"
champion. Breaktimes were spent with a lot of gatherings like the unending
dictionary competitions, "paraltakay-kun-may-naagi- nga-pagong",
cutting-classes just so we could watch cheap pornographic movies at the
dilapidated Republic Theater with Joel as the group leader. While some of us
were into serious academic excellence, the others just took things easily.
Boy Scout activities became intense. Joel, Tinoy, Badz and I had to undergo
training which later saved us from the wrath of Suralta.
My third year was even more pronounced as my friends were learning the ways
of teenage madness. We were paired with some of our classmates. I happened
to be Mark's rival in trying to win Lyra. This started way back when the
role-playing started. Dennis was the head of infuriation for those who never
really knew him. But there was always warmth and smile beneath those
intrigues, ridicules and endless chats. Joel was his second in command.
My little group went out for lunch, where else but at Roda's canteen below
Grandstand steps where I was always singled out for not buying anything
while using the place4 for my messy, banana-wrapped "balon". We had to
utilize some empty classrooms to enjoy our fantastic gourmet of "paksiw" and
prito nga isda". On some occasions, adobo and lechon were served after a
day's fiesta.
Talking about fiestas, we, too, indulged heavily. V&G was the grandest of
them all. The whole Tacloban was deserted because everyone was harassing
their friends in the place. I first learned to drink beer in one of these
occasions. Oh, no. It was during our Christmas party when I had my first
"San Miguel". Joel was already an expert drunk then. Because I was a
beginner, puking was inevitable.
Anyway, about the fiesta, Sharon was the host for the entire III-Gold class
because Arnel never invited us. He became useful only during an assignment
in Geometry when we all copied his answers and if I remember right, Vanessa,
our class valedictorian, also committed the crime. But we didn't care. There
was lavish preparation. There was no time to back out as the rush of hungry
goers congested the streets of Tacloban. Everyone had to partake in the
grand event.
Our first taste of Prom was realized in the scourging heat of the sun during
a 1:00 PM party at the People"s Center. It was unmatched, indeed. There was
a grand display of formal attire as opposed to the usual red-white
combination for the girls and white shirts for the guys in our day-to-day
uniform.
The mood was heightened when everyone danced to the tune of "Boys Do Fall In
Love" even if the demonic heat of the afternoon air was unbearable. Bella
and Joel were experts in the latest dance steps so we followed their way. I
was not altogether excited when Lyra, who was my teenage crush, didn't show
up. She never explained why.
Senior level was the ultimate experience. Joel was smoking five cigarettes
already. The pressure of academics was mounting. NCEE was our main goal. As
such, midnight lamps were burned, learning more vocabularies or mastering
quadratic equations for the exam. We also had to prepare for the UPCAT exams
for those who wanted to live an abnormal life. But these didn't bother our
mundane existence.
My genius classmates were delegates in national conventions, winners in
various quiz shows while the rest of us continued to be real, normal people.
Emelyn was the master of the English language. She won against Lyra but it
didn't matter. We were still cutting classes. When the pressure of NCEE was
over, I went back to my lazy lifestyle even if Mr. Ochon's Physics were
giving me headaches. No way. I didn't dwell on his mad science so it
reflected in my mediocre grade.
While a bunch of us were officers in the CAT, my little friends were
exempted because we too, were officers in the Boy Scout organization. Mark
showed his expertise in traffic when two automobiles collided that's why he
had to enroll in the dreaded CAT after we kicked him out.
Tibyo was the lone soldier who had no ranks in the army. Poor guy he had to
be a receptacle of his friends' might.
Our Senior Prom had to be outstanding. We were embracing a New Wave culture
so it had to be flamboyant and revolutionary. Indeed we were glorified with
our gelled hairstyle and glamorous looks. Some of our batch mates maintained
their low-profile, conservative air, on the other hand, but it was okay.
At this time, drinking was a habit. It showed that we were grown-ups already
even if we still acted as kids in so many ways. Senior's day was the last
occasion before our final bow during our graduation.
Yes. These things happened. So many have not been mentioned yet they are all
in our hearts and mind. Let us not lock them up forever. Let us once again
be those young, innocent faces who conquered that Young Field edifice. We
can never go back but certainly our grand reunion can help us be together
again.
It doesn't matter if you are an achieved person or not. Don't let this be a
hindrance to your decision whether to come or not. Nobody has achieved
anything yet, unless you have achieved enlightenment and perhaps you can
unlearn everything. Leila said that we are still young to fulfill our
dreams. We will be there to laugh once again. To live those moments of agony
and joy during those four years of adventure.
For those who are far and cannot come, let this Internet global community be
our place to hear each other. You might not realize it by now but when it is
over, regret will always sadden you. And for those who are forever lost in
the pages of time, we offer this event to them. Cleofe, for one.
next...
(Part 2)
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