Killer Monay

Dear Youko,

I was barely done saying good bye to III-Chromium when two smiling faces gave me my daily warning signal to leave Room 412 and head on to Room 418.

Feeling happy and enthusiastic to teach and remembering they still don't know the story behind the diary, I went to my last class today. I met other students from that class on the way. I even mocked the way their section name has been spelled in their attendance sheet folder. F-L-O-U-R-I-N-E... Makes them sound like a baking ingredient.

I was welcomed by their greeting which was well-practiced and was learned the hard way. I checked their attendance, gave them their daily doze of preaching and voila! We were off to discuss on the topic which, I can safely say, took the heart and the interest of III-Beryllium, III-Barium and III-Chromium. I was so excited to see the same looks on the faces, same gasps, same disgust, same awww's and aaahhh's in the students of Fluorine. But just as the rainy month of August is popular for its magnificent meteor showers, my class made a little nimbus cloud and covered the skies of knowledge. The boys were shrieking and screaming like little girls being pinched on their hineys. I caught their attention and gave a warning. I went on with the lesson but they still shrieked. I gave my second warning. I think I made a third warning, too. I just can't remember well. But some students just seem to enjoy acting stupid... They shrieked again.

That was it! I reached my boiling point! I was eyeing on the misbehaving students and my vision was starting to blur. My head was nagging me with questions: "One and a half months without salary and yet we are expected to teach these multitude of students? Did I spend almost my whole day preparing for tomorrow's lesson just to be insulted? Must I use up the quality time I should spend with my own baby to care for someone else's teenager? Should I be blamed by a parent whose child cuts classes, drinks in his classmates' house, spends his parents' money on DOTA, and sleeps in the classroom? Is it worth it?"

I could feel the urge to break their noses but I resisted. I saw my green plastic chalk box and... THUD! It lay broken on the floor surrounded by the pandemonium of chalk, board eraser, keys, pens, and dust. There was silence in the classroom.

I went out of Room 418. A student ran after me asking me to return to their room but I didn't listen.

I sat staring at the piles of paper to be checked and recorded and the number 18 and 19 on the calendar. My broken chalk box was asking me for consolation. "Better a broken chalk box than a student"s broken face... It's easier to replace a box but a student's face can't be bought..." I told myself while inspecting the damaged hinge of the box.

My head was throbbing and my heart started skipping beats again. I seriously think that I'll meet my death inside the school.

Theirs truly,

She was one of the few people I know to have a genuinely sweet smile. She barely complained about anything. Very simple. Barely noticed. Just an ordinary girl in her sweet sixteen. When we visited my mother's province last summer, she decided to tag along on our way home to Makati. She stayed in my aunt's house for therapy and for next year's college enrollment. She couldn't stay with us because some of my cousins weren't very considerate. They might ask her to take care of their children, thus, the possibility of worsening her situation.

I gave her a few clothes, the ones that I bought before I got married. My aunt said she was so happy to have them and she was very, very thankful. She even set a few shirts aside because she wanted to use them for special occasions.

That day she was confined in PGH. She barely spent a week there when her condition went from bad to worse. A few days later she was ready to go back home...

The family was so heart-broken that month. We lost Kuya Banjo exactly a week before Jerica passed away. I didn't cry when I heard the sad news. I went to our bedroom and opened the white hanging cabinet. I should have given the clothes earlier. I noticed how the cloth-lines seem to dangle at the middle. I had so many clothes folded, waiting in vain for me to lose weight and wear them again... I could have made her happier even for a few weeks... I'm sorry... I didn't know... I noticed the colorful blur in my eyes getting bigger and bigger. I rubbed my eyes to see better but it just keeps getting watery...

She told one doctor, "Doc, gusto ko pong gumaling. Mag-aaral po ako. Gusto ko pong maging teacher."

Like a comet blazing across the evening sky... gone too soon...

It reminded me how my cousins look up to me. A teacher... She could have made a great teacher. But then again, we'll never know... We'll never know...

May 2011. I have been waiting for that summer. I bought new shoes, new goggles, even borrowed Ms. Valerio's digital camera. I'll be seeing my favorite spot on Pag-asa Beach since it has been years since I last saw it. I was a college student the last time I visited.

I really don't believe in bad omens but, two people inside the jeepney we used to travel to Bicol have birthmarks on their hiney. One would be my cousin and the other one, my son. You probably have heard about how people with balat sa pwet work like jinx to any event.  I still don't believe that stupid superstition but my journey, surprisingly,  didn't work out fine.

I love this boy's butt mark ^__^ Meet the real Mon-Mon (Monay Monster)

Going to the province wasn't as fun. Some of the people inside the jeepney show too little concern for my little baby. The vehicle was jam-packed with children, uninvited people, bags and luggage, boxes of whatever-the-hell-is-inside, and believe it or not, a drum and a big Orocan cabinet! What on earth was goin' on? Where on earth were we heading to? The jeepney literally looked like a lipat-bahay truck! 

Young's Town or Ligo?

That was not the end of it. In the house of my aunt at Camarines Norte, the digital camera of Ms. Valerio met it's doom in the hands (or probably feet) of my younger cousins, nephews and nieces. Nobody even tried to apologize for the misbehavior of those rascals. And last but never the least, the typhoon...

Nope! You're not in Sea World. And no, they're not manatees.

Good thing the weather changed before I committed a mass murder. The skies weren't as blue. And so were the waters but at least, I had a nice swim before I got back to my busy life as a teacher. I guess it's just a little reminder to me. Expecting too much has always frustrated me. Perhaps I should always keep in mind my favorite philosophical point-of-view: Do your BEST. Expect for the WORST. Just so I can save my skin from getting frustrated over and over again.