The Things I Learned in Grade School

(World Teachers’ Day post No. 3)

The Things I Learned in Grade School

Kinder

In kinder grade at Bayambang Central School, I had two teachers. The first one was Mrs. Iglesias, and the second one was Ms. Tamondong. I can no longer recall why the first one had to give up our class, with the second one assuming her place. But apart from making a new set of friends and acquaintances outside home, my biggest memory from kinder grade is drinking warm, diluted milk and weeping uncontrollably out of the blue, the minute I noticed that my sundo (guardian), Ate Lily, a much-older cousin of mine, was out of sight, for fear that she had gone home ahead of me and abandoned me.

I can just imagine how harassed my teachers must have felt with my bouts of separation anxiety. (Yes, as a child, I was already easily upset.)

I have to credit my first two teachers for teaching me the basics of reading and writing and arithmetic. Through classroom dynamics, I also learned to navigate the complex world of dealing with fellow kids, which must have been overwhelming for someone of my temperament.

Grade I

In Grade I, I had Ms. Fernandez as teacher. Having an “old maid” for a teacher must have surely been a puzzle to me, even at a young age. But I understood that she was the best Grade I teacher in her time, because she was the one entrusted with our class, which was then called “Special Class.”

I think Ms. Fernandez taught all the basic subjects by her lonesome. Aside from teaching us how to read using textbooks like “Henny Penny,” she must have taught us songs and mathematics lessons as well.

From her, I learned formalities like asking, “Ma’am, may I go out?” whenever I felt like I needed to go to the bathroom.

Under her tutelage, I won a lot of geeky wordplay contests outside school, such as a contest in which I had to figure out a word from a set of jumbled letters, and so on. I must have made her proud, apart from my parents.

I would learn eventually (just recently, in fact) that she was indeed a one-of-a-kind teacher as she was looked up to by her peers, even getting recognized on the national level.

With her excellent teaching skills, Ms. Fernandez taught me a love for learning and to strive for excellence.

Those school-wide competitions, by the way, came with certificates as proof of my winnings, and I brought home maybe at least six. I learned from my experience that I could excel in school and feel good about myself while rejoicing over my winnings. I learned how breathtakingly sweet, not to mention addictive, worldly success is.

Grade II

In Grade II, my teacher was Mrs. Mercedes de Leon, who happens to be the wife of the Principal at the time, Mr. Daniel de Leon. What I remember the most being under her was that we students were always told to bring this and that object for school, such as broom, scrub, or decorative plant, so we could clean the classroom together and contribute to its improvement.

She taught me what bayanihan means. The little that everyone pitches in, when taken together, can spell a huge difference.

On one occasion in school, the class had a song number in a school-wide program. My teacher brought her daughter along, to teach us how to sing “Yellow Bird” using her guitar. Our performance came complete with a moving paper bird placed up high on a cardboard banana tree, like the song said.

Grade III

In Grade III, my teacher was Mrs. Evangeline Logan Tagulao, an intelligent, tall half-black lady with the distinctive eyes like those of an Indian. This was because her father was a black American soldier.

This teacher was quite amazing because she had eidetic memory. She was fond of holding those math contests in which she flashed math-problem cards (“6X6=__”, and so on), and I can distinctly recall how she remembered the order of how the cards were flashed even after these were shuffled. Her mini-contests made me so nervous because she would ask two contenders to find out who answered faster. I was not particularly good at math, but I was a consistent first-honor student, so anyone matched to me was up against someone who had something to prove (or reputation to protect). My classmates Hernani and Dennis (who was my cousin) were certainly better at it, so I dreaded being exposed by being matched to them.

I consider this teacher one of my favorites up to this day. The reason is that she never shouted at anyone or got angry, her mild manner a refreshing exception among our grade school teachers. One time, I was asked in class to sing a Tagalog song against my will – it was the first time I had to sing in public and to sing a song that was overly melodramatic too, Rey Valera’s “Malayo Pa ang Umaga,” which I chose because it was being played on AM radio most of the time. Maybe in great embarrassment as I was painfully shy, or maybe I got carried away by the songwriter’s utterly depressive message, I broke into tears in the middle of a line. Everyone in class let out embarrassed giggles at the spectacle, but my teacher fought the urge to join in. I felt like she rescued me from total embarrassment. Somehow, with this little gesture, she taught me how to be protective of the underdog.

Grade IV

In Grade IV, my teacher was Mrs. Fanny Santiago Muñoz. Her face struck me as being that of a kind, humble, and knowledgeable woman, and she was indeed all three.

It was therefore distressing to see her classroom being broken into by burglars one day, damaging both school properties and personal belongings. She did not deserve that kind of incident, which apparently happened the night before. She immediately reported it to the principal, who had the room vacated by everyone for the rest of the day. But it was remarkable how Mrs. Muñoz took things so calmly.

She would display such an admirable control of emotions in other instances. With such modeling of behavior, she taught me grace under pressure, how to act in a dignified way instead of being hysterical at something that invited hysteria.

Grade V

In Grade V, my teacher was Mrs. Paz Mamaril Paez. Of all the teachers I had, she was the one who struck me as the strictest one and quite a scary figure too, with her big voice and all.

On the very first day of class, her stern bearing certainly intimidated me, as she asked the early birds like me to help her rearrange the chairs by showing how the work was to be done. Then like a military drill sergeant, she barked, “Move!” This prompted me and my fellow early birds to reposition the rest of the chairs the same exact way as she did, like the ever-docile, obedient creatures we were definitely not when at home.

She taught me that some women had such masculine qualities even though they were not necessarily lesbians.

I can’t forget this teacher for another reason: it was only in her advisory class that I finished Top 2 (I was always Top 1). I know the reason is totally a thing of vanity to me by now, but at the age of 11, it was everything, and finishing second was the end of the world. At home, my family immediately accused her of favoritism, favoring my number one rival, that is. My grandmother was especially livid, insinuating that maybe my teacher was best friends with my rival’s mother, who was her co-teacher. Now it’s entirely possible that Mrs. Paez was fair and that my performance that year was not as good as before. It could be that she was not impressed with me as much as she was with my classmate.

Anyway, I learned to eat humble pie with this particular teacher. Specifically, li'l old competitive me learned how appalling the taste of defeat was.

Grave VI

In Grade VI, our class adviser was Mrs. Ceferina Valerio Rosario. She was a markedly petulant lady with noticeably high intelligence as well.

My first impression of this teacher was not so good after she saw me for the first time acting all bashful around her. She smirked in my face and said I was like a shrinking violet, or more accurately, a snail curling up in my shell. (How she put it in the vernacular was particularly colorful: “Anto ra raya, singa ra bisukol ya selek-selek!”).

With that otherwise hurtful remark, she taught me not to be shy when there’s no reason to be shy.

Eventually I grew fond of her, as she grew fond of me after I proved myself in class and showed how capable I was of winning various academic competitions outside school.

We had been together with two other classmates and other teachers and traveled all over Pangasinan to attend inter-school and inter-district academic competitions. She became my mentor in mastering science lessons and memorizing factoids that were likely to be asked in those incredibly fierce competitive affairs. I won some of them, I lost some of them.

She must have thought that bringing home the bacon was bringing honor to her and the school as well, so she took good care of me like she was my second mother, always giving me advice outside of academics. I can’t quite forget her for the extra mile she took.

When I learned she got seriously ill upon retirement, I felt so bad I could not bring myself to see her at her sickbed at home. Was I ever so grateful for having such a caring mentor. She taught me that first impressions are not always lasting.

***

One other thing I distinctly remember around this time was how teachers felt sorry for themselves because of their meager compensation. Not a few of them resorted to selling stuff like Avon products, tocino, longganisa, and other products just to make both ends meet. But during that time, everyone else seemed as economically poor as they were. But young as I was, it made me question the wisdom of pay rates vis a vis the actual value of the teaching profession, particularly the act of shaping minds and forming characters.

***

Other Teachers

In grade school, there were the other teachers I had who were not classroom advisers but teachers teaching in their specialized fields. The most memorable ones were Ma’am Duds Taguiang Padua; Ma’am Clarita Ferrer Tagab; and Ma’am Leonila Junio, because of how well they taught in their respective subjects of specialty, Math and Science. The same is true with Ms. Anecita Gloria (English), Mrs. Brillante (English), and Ms. Honrado (Math), a Malacañang awardee, no less (or so I heard from her co-teachers).

There was Mrs. Bancolita, who taught us technical terms in Pilipino like katinig, patinog, pangatnig, and di tiyak.

My aunt Naty, Mrs. Natividad Odon Romero Agas, is quite unforgettable for all the songs she taught – Filipino folk songs, regional songs, English songs, hymns, chorale pieces… She taught us how to read notes, and how to mind certain basic things like key, pitch, tone, scale, rest, and stuff. Her love for music was simply infectious. I can still recall all of those songs, which effectively soundtracked my elementary years together with the pop hits of the day over radio and TV.

One time, there was a substitute teacher named Mrs. Basa, who proxied for some teacher who got sick or went on leave. I remember her teaching a number of old American songs such as “By the Light of the Silvery Moon.”

Mr. Rolando Gloria handled Math in Grade IV. With a heavy gait and serious mien, he was quite a strict teacher, one who didn’t tolerate disrespect.

Mr. Reyes handled Scouting single-handedly. He taught us boys to make various kinds of knots, among other wonderful things a young boy needed to know. His energy was quite remarkable, and his knowledge of scouting remarkable.

Mr. Lorenzo Bancolita taught Practical Arts where we learned so many useful things, like how to use a coping saw to fashion a drinking cup out of the dwarf (amamareng) variety of coconut shells, and so on. He was quite the disciplinarian.

Of the few male teachers I had, this one, who taught boys-only classes that combined several sections (that’s how I got to meet everyone in my batch), was the most notorious for being old-fashioned. He told us really funny jokes (meaning really gross and crass, as is inevitable in an all-male company), but when he punished us for an infraction, it really hurt.

One practicum session, he excused himself, saying he had to have a quick meeting with someone outside the room and that we should continue working on our assignment. When he got back, he caught many of us in flagrante delicto -- in the middle of bunong-braso (arm-wrestling). From the look on his face, we knew Sir Bancolita was incensed. I won’t bother with the details of how he dealt with our utter disregard for authority.

Now one of the funniest ever teachers I had were the sisters Sabina and Teonila Monterico. Ma’am Sabina taught Science, but what made her interesting was that she was kind of an oddball. Although she belonged to the conservative religious denomination of Iglesia ni Kristo, she was always dressed up to the nines. Her fashion sense – horn-rimmed eyeglasses, crimson lipstick, primary-color blouse, etc. – tended to rival that of a flamboyant gay man that it was impossible to miss her if you happened to be moving within her orbit.

I was kind of a social misfit myself, but she weirded me out with her antics together with her offbeat outfit, so there was a constant source of entertainment for all. It didn't help that she would interrupt her own discussion now and then and say, "Huwag niyong tignan ang mukha ko!" (as though she knew what we were thinking) and then declare to one and all that she was looking for Mr. Right or, in today's parlance, "single and ready to mingle."

Aside from basic science concepts, Ms. Sabina taught me a kind of courage I didn't know before, the one about not minding too much what other people think of you, that it is okay not to fit in as a round hole in a square peg.

Her sister Teonila taught Araling Panlipunan (Social Studies), and was also a sharp dresser but not as showy as the other one. What made her unforgettable is the way she conducted the recitation portion in her class. You see, she had this set of index cards on which our names were written, the cards containing one name each. In the middle of discussing the assigned reading from the previous day, she would often introduce a probing question by saying it aloud, but ending it with an ellipsis, like this: “Papaano….!?” (“How on earth…!?”).

After a considerable suspense was created, she kept everyone hanging by shuffling the darned cards at length, then picking one lucky winner at random. Then she announced the name aloud, and proceeded with the rest of the question. For example, “Papaano….” (shuffle, shuffle, then pick a name) … “Don de Leon, stand up!” “Papaano nadiskubre ang mga Tasaday?”

Ms. Monterico’s creative method was as utterly funny in retrospect, but no one dared laugh during those Q&A sessions. In those moments, you gasped for breath. If your name was finally picked, as surely it would be, you either had a panic attack or stood right up and risked not making a fool of yourself by answering direct to the point. If you failed, you got zero for recitation, the score duly noted down on her index card.

Her class was scheduled after lunch, the perfect time to catch a nap, but nobody ever got sleepy. Ms. Monterico taught me how unorthodox methods can get impossible things done.

***

All throughout my working years as an employee in various private companies, I was surprised by one thing: None of my prospective employers ever asked whether I finished elementary school with first honors, or seemed to care one bit about whether I graduated as the class valedictorian in some far-flung town in the boondocks. It kind of makes me think whether all my efforts were worth it or in vain. What they noticed out loud was the college education and the work experience.

This somehow validates the truism that, "It doesn't matter how you started, as much as how you ended up." Then again, as Jose Rizal said, "Hindi ka makakarating sa paroroonan, kung hindi ka lilingon sa pinanggalingan." Or as Lao Tse was quoted as saying, "A journey of a thousand miles begins with the first step." Elementary school is the baby steps we need to take, or we won't be able to go very far.

No question about it – each teacher of mine made a deep impact in my life in ways I may not even be conscious of. Maybe that’s because they happened to be there just when I was still in that delicate stage of forming my own person. They were, each one of them, in a great position to inflict great damage and at the same time in the same position to serve as inspiration, but I am confident to say that my memories of them were 95% positive – how else could it be otherwise when I am now writing down a quick memoir that brings warmth to my heart instead of a confession of traumas that I’d rather deny to this day. Now as for that curious 5%, or is that even 5% or maybe 1%? Well… let me put it this way: It is something I’d rather not dwell on because nobody’s perfect.

And even if I recall the more upsetting bits and pieces that stick out the most, there was always a lesson or two to be gained, even lessons my teachers did not intend to teach.

That was what public school life was for me in a typical "Mababang Paaralan ng...". There were teachers that annoyed me for this and that reason. There were teachers that I feared or whom I found intimidating. There were teachers that made me laugh. There were teachers that I admired at once. There were teachers that I grew fond of in time.

But those recollections that I edited out are certainly the ones that bring the loudest, most tearful laughter among my contemporaries come reunion time.