I finished my secondary education in the local public high school that was later converted into an arts and trades school. I particularly excelled in mathematics and geometry. Our math teacher, Epifanio Tac-an, used to entrust to me the checking of the test papers which was fine with me. The task would earn me free snacks from the few buddies who expected me to be lenient with their test papers and get a passing grade. I also performed very satisfactorily in Preparatory Military Training (PMT) that consisted mostly of drills and lectures on military discipline and the structure and hierarchy of the four branches of the country’s armed forces. Because of my height, I only got the rank of cadet sergeant and led a platoon. But I was the star during the year-end tactical inspections, as I easily and correctly maneuvered my platoon to whatever formations desired. I was good at problem-solving drills. I was an honor student in my first to third years and graduated salutatorian in 1962. That was the year John H. Glenn, Jr., the first American to orbit the earth, radioed from Friendship 7 “Oh, the view is tremendous!” while orbiting the earth.
Most of my high school memories were unrelated to the business of academic studies. It is uncanny but these things survived longer in the gray matter. On several occasions during my first year at the then Maigo High School, my classmate Sancho and I repeatedly raided the cottage shared by the school principal and a teacher. We were after the pots of rice and inun-onan of milkfish or mullets. With bare hands, we hurriedly ate the cold food but always left enough for the cottage occupants.
Epifanio Tac-an was a good math teacher but frequently came to class red-faced. I suspected from drinking tuba since there was always a pitcher of the palm wine in the cottage. We did not know if the cottage occupants were aware of the pilferage. We were never caught and the school principal, Tomas Garciliano, never mentioned the raids during the Monday convocations. But my classmate Arsenio was ordered by our lady teacher to stand before the class. He was caught peeping through the gaps of the lumber floor while the teacher was conducting her class. The same teacher, Pilar Mejorada, once threw the eraser at me when I was talking to a seatmate as she was talking. I was in my second year when the flying eraser landed on my head.
On my third year, I recalled betting at the hantak spearheaded by Baltazar. During class breaks, he would lead his select classmates to a secluded place for the forbidden game of “toss coins.” Two kings, the dealer wins, two crowns he losses. I usually lost ten to twenty centavos in this illicit gambling but kind of recouped my losses when Baltazar, who had the knack at flipping two kings, would treat me to a snack of sweet tabirak which would cost as much. It was at the time that our math teacher delegated to me the checking of test papers.
Arsenio Eltanal, Baltazar Gagara, Mario Undag, Nonoy Kwan, Sancho Undag and Victor Estrera were my closest friends in high school. Mario was our class songbird. Victor was our tallest and could hide a ruler under the sole of his shoes. Except for Nonoy who lived in the Poblacion, we all came from the western side of the Maigo River. Mario and Sancho died young – Mario, single, was murdered; Sancho, married, committed suicide. Baltazar, who migrated to Bukidnon and worked as a municipal planning and development coordinator of Kadingilan died of stroke. Nonoy, who put up his own business and served as vice mayor for one term, died of cancer. Both died in their prime age.
Of my high school teachers I cannot forget Epifanio Tac-an because of the test papers; Pilar Mejorada because of the flying eraser; Gregorio Racaza, a Protestant, because of his oft repeated quotes on Nicodemus’ famous born again question: “How can a person once grown old be born again? Surely be cannot re-enter his mother’s womb and be born again, can he?” I also remembered Tomas Garciliano because inun-onan is still my favorite viand.
I had a pair of black pants custom-tailored for the graduation. I enjoyed flaunting the best pants I ever had that I volunteered to help carry the chairs on stage before the start of the commencement ceremonies. I was excited wearing the black glossy apparel as much as my receiving the silver medallion as the class salutatorian. However, I was dismayed upon seeing the black and white photo of me on stage receiving my medallion from Gregorio Racaza, the fourth year class teacher-in-charge, and my beaming father at my side. My oversized trousers were inches longer to fit and crumpled at my shoes. The disaster about my graduation pants might look insignificant compared to the Cuban Missile Crisis later in 1962 but the disappointment I felt was real and devastating. The sinking feeling was like being kidded by peers if your barber is still alive after murdering your hair. Nonetheless, I am glad that that picture had survived to this day since it is the only picture I had during my entire high school days. That pants also reminded me of the loose pair of Elpo rubber shoes that my mother bought when I was in Grade II, the only difference was that I did not have strong misgivings about that shoes. My mother expected the shoes to last for at least two years when my feet will outsize the oversized shoes. I felt better and more fashionable sloshing with that shoes rather than walking barefoot as I did before that prized possession and when the shoes went out of commission and my mother was still digging for the money to buy a replacement.
(Excerpt from “Looking Back, Memoir”
