Cheating 101 and Blind Item na hindi blind

Dear insansapinas,

Namissed ko ang magblog ng early morning. Pagkatapos kong ayusin ang dadalhin ko sa ospital, bukas, talagang antok na antok ako at hindi ko maibukas ang aking mata, nang ginising ako ng aking friendly ghost. Una may narinig akong nagclick. Dahil ang aking pinto sa bedroom ay may pagkamulto rin, sumasara ng sarili niya (no walang mechanism na kusang sasara yon, inisip ko na lang na baka hindi pantay ang aming bahay kaya nahihila ang pintong sumara). Hindi ko pinansin. Tapos  mas malakas na blag ang narinig ko sa bandang computer desk ko. Tayo ako at sabi na OO na nga, tatayo na. Alas dos na ng hapon. Hindi naman sumara ang pinto at wala namang nag-iingay sa aking computer desk. Ngiii.


Pero hindi yan ang aking blog. Pasakalye lang. Play it again Sam. 


Kagabi, pinanood ko sa computer ang CSI: NY. Interesting. Mga istudyante sa private school na ang tuition fee ay halaga na ng sweldo ng middle manager. Hindi bababa sa 80,000 dolyareses. High school yan mga tita. 


Pinatay yong pinakapopular, pinakamatalino at pinakamagandang istudyante. Sa imbestigasyon, kaya pala siya nakakataas ng grade dahil sa kodigo niya. Take note. Bottled Water. Pinapalitan nila ng codes yong nakasulat sa plastic na lalagyan. Nakita lang ng isang CSI ang contents na nakaprint sa bottle na may pangalan ng bansa, mga importanteng dates. Ganiyan sila mandaya. Sino nga naman ang maghihinala na  codigo yon.


Rewind.
Meron kaming kaklase noon, na maganda rin. Sa Anatomy and Physiology almost perfect ang exam samantalang kaming mga nag-uuwi pa ng buto sa bahay para mapag-aralan ay hindi ma-master ang subject. Nagkaroon ng imbestigasyon. Nagreklamo ang mga kaklase ko. Dahil doon lang naman siya mataas. Sa ibang subject, butata siya. Ginamit nila ako na doon lang raw sa subject na yon ako mababa ang grade. Totoo naman. Ang hinala nila, may relasyon yong dalawa. So impromptu exam. Mataas ako, mababa siya. Defensive si Prof. Sabi niya ibabagsak daw niya ang buong klase.Sabi ng leader naman, subukan niya. Idodonate daw nila ang grades nila sa mga kaklase naming bagsak ang mga grades. Makikick out kasi. Imbestiga, imbestiga, natrace sa printing office ng school. Doon kasi iniimprinta ang test papers. Salbahe.

Christmas Parlor Games na hindi ko makakalimutan, BOW

Dear insansapinas,
Pag Pasko, natutuwa ako sa mga parlor games. Kasi nakaka-excite.

Istudyante ako noon sa MBA at kailangan naming umatend ng Christmas party na sponsored ng mga officers.

Ayaw kung sumali. bungisngis kasi ako eh. Minsan sumali ako sa kalamansi relay, yon bang calamansi ay "isasakay" mo sa kutsara na nakaipit saiyong ngipin. Talo. kasi habang tumatakbo ako panay hagikhik.

Tapos yong parlor game na may nilagang itlog. Ipapasok sa pantalon ng lalaki, pagugulungin hanggang sa baywang at doon kukunin. naintindihan ba ninyo?

Yong mga lalaking propesor ang mga kasali na siyang nakatayo at papasukan ng itlog sa pantalon. hehehe. Volunteer ako. Nandoon yong isang poging propesor.

Habang pinaakyat ko ang itlog sa loob ng kaniyang pantalon, napatigil ako. malapit na sa hita. Basag ang boiled egg. hmmm, buti na lang at lutong luto siya.

Sabi ko, Sir, basag ang itlog ninyo. hehehe.

Pinaysaamerika

Second Year College-”Of all the rights of women, the greatest is to be a mother.” — Lin Yutang

Dear insansapinas,

Motherhood (excerpt form the poem of Joaquin Miller)
The bravest battle that ever was fought!
Shall I tell you where and when?
On the maps of the world you will find it not;
‘Twas fought by the mothers of men.Nay not with the cannon of battle-shot,
With a sword or noble pen;
Nay, not with eloquent words or thought
From mouth of wonderful men!But deep in a walled-up woman’s heart –
Of a woman that would not yield,
But bravely, silently bore her part –
Lo, there is the battlefield!

I felt fear rising in me. Is it already due? I hope it isn’t. Yet. There were no diapers and baby clothes…no nursing bottles.

I was only given allowance for school and nothing more. I can’t complain.Besides no one help me prepared for the coming of a newborn. I was quite busy too… cramming for exams,… postponing things that I could do during semestral and school break. There was only a week left before the semester ends. Only a few more weeks to pursue my plan.At this time of the year, we were abandoned again by the sister-in-law. I can’t blame her. The husband was too kind to me. I felt jealousy when the man as treating me like a small sister that he never had. They’re childless too. Another younger brother stayed in the house and helped in the rent. After school, I decided to walk in the emergency room of the hospital which was just a few blocks away from our place.

I had never consulted an obstetrician-gynecologist. I did not have the time ad money. I left a note at home.A very friendly medical intern examined me. He was “shopping” for the last childbirth case before he graduates. I was his last case. He assured me that I will be given the tenderest loving care. I protested that it was not time yet. He called the doctor…must be his adviser and they talked. When he came back, he was grinning from ear to ear. He was happy on the thought that he was graduating . And for that he said that I would be alone in the labor room/delivery room. I was like a guinea pig…monitored for every movement, pain and groans. He was chronicling it. He even offered to make a sketch of me while my face is not distorted yet. I felt that there was already a distortion…his sense of humor. Pains had subsided and did not come back not until after a few hours. I was suffering in silence and except for the facial and mouth grimaces; there were no other signs of the agony of pre-birthing. That was the time when I learned how to endure pain thru mental conditioning. I imagined beautiful things. I imagined graduating in College…then working in an air-conditioned office…buying a house…a car.

It was the contractions that pulled me back to reality. They’re coming in short intervals. By the next few hours, he had given me something for the excruciating pain. I slipped into trance-like state. The doctor came and went. Did I hear her reprimand the medical intern? I heard something like premature rhytmic reathing exercises that he asked me to do. It would exhaust me. By the time I delivered, I was already too tired because of pushing and breathing out. My mouth was dried. I heard the cry of the baby and felt a small body placed across my chest.That was the time I felt he was real to me. I‘ve been hearing from the old people that the moment, you see your baby the first time, you will forget all the aches and pains. What you will see is a new life, a new hope and a beautiful creature from your womb. And it is true.Before I fell into a long slumber, I remember my last thought. Change of plan. I can’t leave my baby.

Second Year College Part 3-To be mature means to face, and not evade, every fresh crisis that comes.

Dear insansapinas,
When MEMORIES start coming back, it is just like watching a movie of your own. You feel you are detached. You are just a spectator. Then you feel the sadness, anger, happiness and… triumph.In less than a year, I have learned the lessons that could have taken me to assimilate in my system for a decade. Shattered dreams, betrayals, disappointments almost drove me to hopelessness. Faith was the only one who held me together. I knew that somehow, someday, the wheel of life is going to roll again. Slowly. This was the time when Footsteps became my favorite.

That vision of mine at the corner of the house looking at the empty space was like a bad dream. It played over and over again in my psyche. That must be the inner force that made me strive to buy a house of my own before I reach the age of 30. Before he arrived, I had already wiped the tears. I had always believed that crying was a sign of weakness. Admission of losing.

I will have a quiz the following day and I should study instead of brooding. The younger sister came to hand the keys. He barked at her. They were talking in their dialect. What I could make out was about the huge cash advance that he got from his office to pay the placement fees of two sisters who went abroad to work. That we could not afford to pay the rent and subsist on whatever what was remainder after deducting the installment payments of the advances.After the sister left, he asked me pack my things.

What would I pack? Just a box of a few clothes of mine and books. One box, which when I looked back after years, I could not believe that my life was only in one box. A memory which made me smile whenever I shopped at Costco. When the bagger asked me, box or bag, I always ask for bags. My one purchase would fill several boxes—the size of which was the same as that one I carried that day to move in with the younger sister and her husband. Again.The new place was just a stone’s throw so the Kamag-anak Inc. was still within the area.

Nothing had changed except for cards game added as weekend activities. I never joined them. The relatives thought that I was a snob. Playing classy. Playing intellectual.During those times when my emotion was suppressed, the person inside me was asking, why I was there? What have I done to deserve it? What can I do? Where was the promise made when I was praying at Baclaran that I become a valedictorian in high school? Instead the response in my prayer was NO BUT I will finish college, no matter what.

So that was it…No matter what happens…no matter what obstacles come my way.
If that was a test, it was a very long one.I missed my family. I missed my younger brother and sister whenever I saw kids in the neighborhood. I was afraid of my elder siblings. I was afraid of my mother.But that afternoon, I found the courage to go home. My mother saw me ushered in by my little brother. She continued sewing in her sewing machine. I guessed it’s my sister’s costume for the school. She did not show any emotion too. She said that I came to show that I could manage myself now without their help. I wanted to say no. But I can’t and didn’t. I even willed myself not to cry. I did not say anything about my life. I just said I realized my mistake and am sorry for what I had done. She said that she would not force me to come back. She liked me to come back on my own will. That was a hint that I am still welcome. And I planned of coming home. After the second semester ends. When there is a long vacation that I could go somewhere beyond his reach. Having seen the clan’s culture…like the Musketeers…one for all and all for one…right or wrong, I decided that I do not want to involve my family in the mess that I made. I would keep them distant. I would solve my problem. And I thought that was just easy to walk away.I asked permission to bring my brother and sister to a movie and gave them a treat later. I was able to save some money from my allowance by scrimping on my lunch.I came back to my sister-in-law’s place. I was in a good mood. I felt happy. She noticed that my brows were no longer knitted. I did not tell her anything.The second semester was about to end. I was exempted in almost all my classes… not out of compassion of my professors to my condition…I earned my grades. Except for one class where my professor was asking me why I haven’t changed my maiden name yet when obviously I was no longer single. He did not exempt me. I agonized in the whole two hours of the finals. We still had a paper to submit.When I came home, I felt the discomfort. For a moment, I thought that I was going to die.

I did not know where the pains were coming from.

Second Year Part 2-The face is the mirror of the mind, and eyes is the window of the soul

Dear insansapinas,

Psychiatrists say that people blank out memories that they don’t want to remember. Especially the painful ones. Reminiscing them brings out tears. Pushing them further to deep recesses of the mind gives one a temporary sense of relief, only to be haunted later in life. There are things that should not be written for they evoke memories; but they need to be written to correct some wrong notions and prejudices because of obscuring the truth.
In that world of mine that I created, day and night ceased to matter. The dark clouds seemed never had left the sky. I would have wished for them to fall as rain so I could see a new bright day but I learned that we can’t always control the circumstances in which we find ourselves.I felt trap in my own life. There was no major breakdown; not even in small dosages in the form of random sobs or breaking out my feelings to my closest friend. I could not even feel my feelings.
By day, I wore a mask when surrounded by my classmates. My spinster professors asked why I got hitched while they could not find someone to save them from the so-called last trip. One English Professor asked the whole class to keep a daily journal. She always called me first for recitation. That’s when I developed my writing skill. Everyday,” I wrote short fiction.” The real experience was written into a short play where I won the Best Story and the Best Actress. That was my life story except for the ending where the character lost her sanity. I kept mine intact. No room for breakdown.

By night , I transitioned to an individual who felt that being numb was normal.
We we were staying in his younger sister’s place who was married to a seaman. Although we were only three in the household, there were just too many people who hung out and ate in the house. I always woke up with no breakfast left on the table or had come home from school without dinner. The kitchen was the “kusina ng bayan”. The relatives were all around the block. I learned how to keep Skyflakes in my schoolbag.
Some days were good; some days were bad and mostly Saturdays and Sundays were the worse. Drinking sessions started at the break of day. I could never learn how to cook their dish. I just did the chores where no specialization was required. Cleaning up and doing the laundry during Sundays.
I spent the Saturdays in the library away from the noise with my two friends; math wizard and the lady friend who became my best friend forever. Yep, the math wizard never left me. He had always been there. But there was no relationship going on. Not even emotional cheating. He was to me a good friend and a brother no matter what he felt for me. He was too perfect for a boyfriend. There were rumors that he was gay. He had no vice, no girl friend, no male friends and was a homebody.
No, I never confided to him. I was a very private person. I put the happy façade whenever I was with my friends… so people would not know about how miserable I was. I had a plan and that plan was not to remain married. As to when and how, I was considering limited choices. But first I had to concentrate on studying.
The relatives were questioning my going to school. Someone remarked that the moment I finished, may be I would just leave when I find a good paying job.
A conversation between two old relatives made me remember some of the words spoken in their dialect. My lady friend spoke the same dialect although she came from another province.
Translation revealed that the clan did not approve of the marriage between two cultures. The hidden motive was just to really invest in my study. The investment was just in the books and allowance. I was not paying any tuition fees. Although the truth hurt, I was forever grateful for allowing me to go to school where I never missed a single attendance even when I was already having a hard time with morning sickness and pregnancy-related health issues. It was my only hope. To right the mistake. To regain my self esteem … become proud and be able to face my family again… with the diploma. It gives me a tremendous sense of comfort whenever I got high grades and my professors took note of them.
There was a time when I was in the library when I fainted. When I regained consciousness, I was seated on a chair with my lady friend applying cold compress at the back of my head. I fell and my head hit the concrete floor. (Kaya siguro, sira ako…ooops). Math wizard left after calling my husband. He would not like to see him. He, too.
And I would not like them to meet. He has two sides of him. He vacillated between raving bouts of violence and being meek. One thing that I made the relatives incorporated understand was that I would never allow physical abuse.
One time, I asked (not confronted) a relative about my watch. She verbally abused me and left cussing . I saw her come back with a number of male and female relatives in tow. Did I marry a mob?
Before they could come inside the house, I was already holding a kitchen knife. I was alone. They held back. A neighbor who owned the sari-sari store across the street pretended to deliver something for me. He was a kababayan who had been living in that place for decades. He knew the thugs and the troublemakers. He came to protect me.
The hubby did not do anything when he came and learned about the incident. The explanation of the presence of the mob was just to secure the lady relative who planned of engaging me in hair - pulling-face-slapping combat.
The sister-in-law had decided against the husband-seaman who I found was kinder to me whenever he was around. A gesture that I appreciated and paid back when the couple’s destiny turned to worst several years later.
When I came home, the place was empty saved for one chair and the bed. She was kind enough to leave us two plates. No spoons ad forks. No stove. No dining table.
I sat at the corner with tears streaming down my cheeks. I feel so all alone.

First Year College Part 4- Experience is that marvelous thing that enables you to recognize a mistake when you make it again. -Franklin P. Jo

Dear insansapinas,


First Year Part 3- Experience is that marvelous thing that enables you to recognize a mistake when you make it again. -Franklin P. Jones

Have you experienced petitioning for the removal of a professor?

The second semester of the first year left me with a valuable lesson which could be
summarized in one or two statements. Never sign a petition with a pen, use a pencil. :)
Know the people who are initiating the petition if you are not the originator.

Calm down, earthlings, I will elaborate.

For the second semester, our batch shrunk by more than 10 per cent. Many scholars
were not able to maintain the average grade. They were kicked out. The students
blamed it on some professors who were not only feeling high and mighty but were “kurips” (stingy) of the grade. These were the
“Thank-your-goddess-for-receiving-2.50 –from-me-because-that-is the highest-grade-that –I give-otherwise-you-are-better-than-I- am professors or the I-do-not-exempt-anybody-from-the-finals-I-just-eliminate-some-to-make-paper-
checking-easier type.

I was one of those eliminated. A close friend of mine who opted to take the exam regretted her decision to take. That was interpreted to be a challenge to the professor. Her grade was reduced to 3.00. (that’s 75).

On the first day of our second semester meeting with a professor who was popular as
a terror, a new classmate from another class approached us to sign a petition to remove him as a faculty.This stiff-necked classmate of ours explained that they were their professor in the first semester and the highest grade that they got was 2.5.

Our group signed the petition with pen while the classmate soliciting signatures signed with a pencil. I noted that. I failed to hear my brain’s “ding-ding-ding” sound of warning that something’s definitely wrong. Stupid us! We had not even met yet the professor.

The professor failed to come on the first meeting. The petition letter was submitted to the Dean's office according to the classmate who was speaking as if he was a president-elect of the class.
On the second meeting, a 40 yish, medium height and with a hair gelled to his scalp species from Mars entered the classroom. I thought at first, he was a barber. Nyehehe.

He was wearing a collarless white bush shirt. His brows were knitted and his eyes were those of an angry man. LAGOT. He was our professor.
He sat at the edge of the desk and called the roll. But wait, it was not a roll call. There were only eight. Maybe he’s not done yet before he commanded for those called to follow him in his office. I thought we would be called by group. The Math Wizard whispered to me what I thought about the guy after telling me his. Mukha raw di professor. He looked like his barber. Maybe because of what he was wearing. Mukhang uniporme ng barbero. Tehehehe.

Inside the office, we were made to sit at the reception area while one by one we were called to join him in the office. I was the first to be called. It was not alphabetical.

Freshman Year Part 3 - Have you ever cheated?

Dear insansapinas,



First year- Every man has his fault, and honesty is his.

Have you ever cheated or were you a professor's nightmare?

The Leak

I felt that my bladder is going to explode. One more suppressed giggle and it would go.

But the girl friend of my classmate Promdi (the tall one) was not able to contain it. She literally wetted her underwear and then burst laughing. She leaked.

We’re busted.

That was in our Economics class where we did not like our lady instructor. We cannot complain because no one would handle the subject on daytime. She was a part-timer and did not know how to teach. Her charts and graphs were like chicken’s scratches. Never finished.

Our class was not in the main building. It was some sort of annex and that was being used by the graduate students. That night, we’re the only one which was having a class in that part of the university complex.

The class decided not to attend the subject. No we did not leave the classroom. We were planning to make her leave.

We closed the doors, switched off the light and asked every student to hold their breath. One classmate stood on two desks piled one on top of the other so he can reach the
a small air vent where he could see the professor coming and going.

The lady instructor was about to leave upon seeing the dark room when she heard my classmates’ noise because of the “wetness” episode of my lady classmate.

The Leakage

We’re having a hard time with one of our science subjects. Although the objective type of quizzes is in the form of true or false, fill-in the blanks and matching type, our terror professor was inserting some words which made the question confusing or misleading.

But there were two classmates who were acing the long exams almost a hundred per cent.
The rest of the class fell below 80’s and these two classmates were not exactly superior
in other subject.

In our class, our group was the most outspoken that we would always ask for a dialogue with our professors if we believed there was a need to thresh out some issues.

We suspected that the two were the favorites of our professor; the female classmate who was not outstandingly beautiful but was some kind of a flirty type. She talked very sweetly and called everybody honey.

The other groups in the class did not join us when the professor threatened us of slander because of the accusation.

We presented our argument. The professor did not make any comment. He said he forgave us and we have to move on. He denied the allegation which we really never articulated. Just insinuations.

After a month, he called our group.Closed Door. He found out how the cheating was being done. The culprit was getting the carbon paper of the stencil from the printer of the Exam papers. When the stencil is run in the printing machine, the carbon paper is detached and discarded.

He thanked us for letting him know of our suspicions. He changed his printer. The two never got high grades again.

The mean became lower so that the professor knew the real class standing.

Freshman Year Part 2 -It is the mark of an educated mind to be able to entertain a thought without accepting it.

Dear insansapinas,

Before the middle of the semester, the class had already several groupings. I had my own. We were eight including the Math Wizard, the Tardy Time because he was constantly late. In fact, each one of us had a special name because of our time habits. Mr. Tardy Time was always late for one to two hours. He complained about the traffic in Makati, so that was Makati time. I was compulsively early and that time we still lived in Sampaloc. Mine was Sampaloc time.

There were four boys and four girls…not because we were romantically linked. At least half of us had their own soul partners who may belong to another class and group.

I had my share of admirers, (admirers daw o), suitors (because they tried to suit themselves to my schedule, *heh*).Habulin daw ako…ng aso. Toink.

But I contained myself. My elder brother found a job abroad and he made it possible for me to study full time because the scholarship required us to enroll full load. There was a silent promise between us that I would finish my college. But fate had other plan for me. Bohohoo. That is going ahead of the story.

My classmates never saw me date nor introduced any special friend. I was enjoying college life. The group went to movies together not because we wanted to skip classes but because our professor required us to write a movie review.The group members with special someone brought their partners. They sat together. Mr. Math Wizard usually sat beside me with another lady classmate by my other side. To elicit laugh, Mr. Math Wizard would suddenly talked on top of his voice warning us two girls not to abuse his “ innocence. “

We were also a group in visiting museum and art galleries for our Humanities. When it came to libraries however, only Match Wizard and my other lady classmate went together. Others had their dates or hung out with their special friends in the campus or in the canteen.

Mr. Math Wizard warned the two of us not to involve yet with anybody or else, he’s going to make our lives miserable. That was meant to be a joke and or a brotherly advice to put our studies as priority.

“Sasabunutan ko kayo, ingungudngud ko kayo at hindi ko kayo babatiin.” Said he.
We retorted back by asking what if he found also a special girl. He narrowed his eyes, arched one brow and said, "Ito ang piso, maghanap kayo ng makakausap." (translation: “Here is a peso, look for someone you can to talk to.”)
That we were about to find out when our professor in Logic 101 demonstrated his skill of hypnotism.


One afternoon. The Sherlock Holmes look-alike professor instructed us to lift our chairs and form a circle leaving a space in the middle of the classroom. Then he dragged his chair at the center while reaching out for his pocket watch.
He asked for a volunteer. The boys pushed Mr. Math Wizard to involuntarily volunteer. He protested by saying BAKIT AKO? (Why me?).
The class clapped their hands. He bowed a little and took a seat ready to be hypnotized.
The professor started the “ritual” by chanting, “look into mamamamy eyes…then he directed his gaze to swinging pocket watch…suggested to him that he was relaxed…nothing to fear.

When he became motionless but not necessarily rigid, the professor told us that he’s ready to answer questions.
First question: Do you have a girl friend?
Answer: None
Class Reaction: Boring. All those without girl friends and boyfriends howled.
Second question: Do you have a crush?
Answer: YES
Class reaction: Whoa. Ask who?

One of the PRO’s (Promdis) remarked that it would end the excitement. He suggested identifying the “crush” by process of elimination (in web search that is narrowing down by filtering). We knew that he did not want the class to resume to regular “programming” so he would like to extend the “interrogation”. Some strategy that the class approved wholeheartedly.

Third question: Is it in this class?
Answer: YES
Class: Whoaa. Then buzzed like bees, each one trying to guess who.
Fourth Question: Did you tell her already?
Answer: NO
Class reaction: male classmates, mahina; female classmates, WHY?
Question: Does she have an idea that you have a crush on her?
Answer: Don't know.
Class reaction: Male classmate asked the girls in the class. “Girls do you feel he has a crush on you”. Some girls stood up giggling.
Question: Describe her. Let’s start with the hair.
Answer: Shoulder Length.
Class reaction: Male classmate addressed the girls. Oh yong mga kalbo at crew cut, wala na kayo. (translation: the bald and those with crew cut, you’re out). LAUGHTER. Girls with short hair pretended to cry.
Question: Height?
Answer: Over five feet.
Class Reaction: male classmate said," O yong mga dwende at mga four feet lang, out." (translation: The midgets and those four feet in height are out). The classmate specifically identified Jane, a classmate who was petite, below 5 who became the girl friend of our five-nine footer promdi classmate). Jane, stood up and acknowledged the remarlk. laughing.

Question: Does she wear eyeglasses.
Answer: NO
Class reaction: Male classmate: O yong mga bulag diyan, out. (translation: Those who are blind, you’re out). Bespectacled girls removed their glasses, squinting and laughing.
Question: What is her name?

Before he could answer, the bell rang. Math Wizard seemed have woken from a deep sleep, rubbed his eyes and looked around.

Class reaction: Bitin. Overtime. (protest in unison).

The professor merely smiled. He asked the class to bring back the chairs to their original positions; gave the assignments for next meeting and hurriedly left without saying goodbye.

Math Wizard approached us, asking what happened. A lady friend snorted, if I know, you’re just pretending. Hehehe

He slapped her shoulder with his notebook. Gagah. Then he laughed.

The mystery continues.

Freshman Year-Part 1- I have never let my schooling interfere with my education

Dear insansapinas,


Dearinsansapinas,

Freshman Year-Each decision we make determines the range of choices we'll face next.-Calvin of the Calvin and Hobbes.


So I decided to enroll in the city funded university where I would not be paying a single cent for my tuition fee as long as I maintained a certain average grade to avoid kick-out.

The Classmates -It is possible to store the mind with a million facts and still be entirely uneducated.


The guy stumbled toward my desk. Clumsy. I thought. He stared back at the guy who was following him. They smiled. Done on purpose, I thought. . Their eyes shifted to the book on top of my desk.

I heard them laughed and made the sarcastic remarks… the taller guy blurted out, " Must be one of our textbooks?" …the smile or was that a smirk never left his face. …"are you kidding?", responded the other guy.

They looked at each other again...raised their brows and made a high five and chuckled.

The object of their interest was my Thesaurus. First day in College and force of habit of carrying something made me grab anything and that any thing that I happened to grab was our thick, heavy thesaurus. mabuti na lang wala kaming encyclopedia britannica. *heh*

Darn, I made a fool of myself to these "bullies". Nyek.

They were D and E, two of my classmates in that block. They were both valedictorians from Central Luzon high schools.

The labeling started on the first day. The two were PRO. Promdis. From the province. D was wearing a cotton long sleeved barong, tucked in a loose pants. He had a bright red tie. I am not pulling your leg. Swear. Madapa man kayo pag lakad ninyo. (translation: may you trip when you walk)

Fourth Year High School- Another School, Another Challenge-"Failure will never overtake me if my determination to succeed is strong enough.-Og Mandino

Fourth Year- Another School, Another Challenge-"Failure will never overtake me if my determination to succeed is strong enough."-Og Mandino.

It took me several weeks before I was enrolled in that public high school in Manila. I found it more complicated to transfer from a private to a public school but my persistent paid off.

We stayed in Bicol only for a month. We moved to Manila . My brother had a freak accident and needed an operation in the Orthopedic. The relatives in Bicol were more concerned on what they could get as share in my dad’s benefits than helping us start a life in our own province. My maternal relatives lived in an island which was accessible only by boat—along two or three hour trip from Naga City. No way my mother would bring us there again.

Third Year High School– I did not dance Victoria, I got no red shoes.

Dear insansapinas,

Third Year – I did not dance Victoria, I got no red shoes.

My mother was able to get the death benefits and insurance of my dad. The employer gave us construction materials for our own house in the lot that my father bought before he died.

My mom sold them all to buy a jeepney so we can have regular source of income. Some were used to pay off bills that were accumulated when my father was in the hospital.

When enrollment came, my mother told me the bad news. I had to quit school.
When my mother blurted out the news, my mind became blank for a moment then I cried but I did not let her see me. I did not want to hurt her feelings like what I did to my dad. I did not want to repeat what had happened in the early part of my second year before I learned of my dad’s problem in the workplace.

Because we were financially hard-up, my mom could not give me money for my projects.
I thought that it was just her whim. I thought she was just playing favorite to my brothers. I thought that just because, I was now trying hard to make it good in school, she owed me all the support I need. These are the things that I pushed down the recesses of my mind. I tried to forget my youth’s follies. But I find it as a constant reminder to make me a better person.

There was a point that my rebellious streak drove me to decide to run away and go to my friend’s house. The friend with the grocery. Stupid me. I planned to work as a store helper so I can support myself.

My brother caught me when I was about to step out of the house very early morning. I had put all my books and other personal things in a native basket that was used by a relative in sending us the dried fish from Bicol. It smelled bad. But I did not care.

When my father learned about my plan, he did not say anything to reprimand me. He led me out of the house and asked where I was intending to go so he could bring me there himself. He said he’s sorry that he can’t provide for everything. He’s sorry that he failed me. He asked me if I will be happy with my decision to leave my family who will always be there for me. There was no anger in his voice. There was just bitterness. It was bitterness that he felt that he was a failure as a provider. And I was the one who made him felt of his inadequacy. Honestly, it was not my intention to hurt him. If the competition for honor made my classmate a loony, its effect on me was worse. I became an insensitive person.

The short talk of my father shamed me no end. I turned around and went back inside the house. No talks, no nagging, no punishment, No accusatory tones.
Whenever I remember that incident, I felt guilty. That was months before he died. That was a few weeks before he did not resign even though he was demoted. I knew now how he must have reached that painful decision of choosing not to resign over his hurt pride.
He stayed on even if he was no longer happy in his job. He had responsibilities, us. It must have killed him slowly. I thought what I did add to his worries.

I know he cared for me even he was clinging to whatever was consciousness left when he suffered the stroke. He was calling my name when he was in the ambulance. My elder siblings were never a problem to my parents. They were obedient. They never rebelled.

It was me he was worried about. That he’s going to fail me again. That I would never finish my study. Maybe he prayed that he would not die. And maybe that’s why he never has left me after all these years. Maybe that is why I am writing this.

Second Year - The Year When I Lost My Father

Dearinsansapinas,

Second Year- I lost my father but I maintained my scholarship. I danced the Bulaklakan.

I did not maintain my top honor at the end of the year but I was among the full scholars.

The topnotcher was our classmate who must have a photographic memory that she could recite the books’ chapters word for word/front to back and back to front. She was very studious that she would just sit in the corner and read the books. She was aloof too.

I can see that she was hard-driven. It is only the scholarship that gave her hope to finish high school and proceed to College.

Even though, she’s considered the best in the class, the affluent students regard her as nothing but a bastard with brains. She was avoided by another clique in that top section—those born with silver and gold spoons—even though they’re just plated. I learned why. She was the daughter of a former hooker and lived in the ghetto part of that city. She never knew who her father was.

Together with the girl classmate who was busted for the codigo (she was given another chance by the teacher because she claimed that it was just passed on to her), she started bonding with me. She did not rat the guilty ones, but they avoided her just the same.

Like the topnotcher, she was also treated like someone with a horrible disease when a classmate gossiped about how her father left the family when she was young and her mother was rumored to have a boyfriend who was ten years younger. The gossiper used to be her buddy she always brought to their grocery store for free stuff.

It was sad to find social divide for very young and prayerful community.

During retreat, you feel you are the lowest of the low among the hierarchy of friends by the size and the quality of “stampita” (this is a card of prayer with the picture of a saint or an angel) that you received from the fellow retreaters.

We were called the triumvirate. Not Tres Marias. The two had no fathers while I would be losing my own father before the end of my second year.

I never witnessed my parents argued in front of us. Whatever problems they had in the family, they tried to find solutions by talking in whispers while all the children were in bed.

I know the problem started when the assistant of my father was promoted and became his superior. I remember when my mom sent him to the City to cool off. My father had a history of hypertension and I did not know that politics, intrigues and position grabbing were in our work culture.

Then we moved out from the house provided by the company. My father who was always silent became more silent.

Money had already been a problem since my father decided that we should enroll in the private school. He worked hard to give us the best education that we ought to have. We were seven and all except for a little brother who was born after a big gap, we were all studying in the private school while my eldest brother was starting College.

Though we had scholarships, there were other school-related expenses to meet like projects, allowances and costumes for school activities.



I did not want to join the dance anymore but a big percentage of our grade in PE would be coming from the participation in the dance and calisthenics. All second high school students participated in the bulaklakan dance that the crowd who would come to watch won't even notice if one was out of tempo or was plain walking.

By the time, our presentation was scheduled, my father was already hospitalized. He was in a coma for a month after suffering from internal hemorrhage due to high blood pressure. No one came to watch me.

My mother was already staying in the hospital everyday. My elder siblings were bringing her food and clothes on their way to school. My eldest assigned us responsibilities at home. There were time for studying and there were time for household chores. No play.

Sometimes I missed my classes. There were projects to submit and there were long quizzes to take.

I read my my books while I rocked the crib of my baby brother. I approached the teacher in the Vocational to give me materials for the project and I would do the cross-stitched embroideries. It saved me a lot of money. I got my grades and she got beautiful table runner, hankies and skirts. For our next project, she asked me to make the party purse for her. It was beautiful with sequins and pearls. She used it in one of the school activities. I stood proud of what I had done.

Before the end of the SY, my father died. My mother fell into depression. We can understand. She was pregnant of our youngest sister. A sister who was born after my father's death.

I lost the enthusiasm to go to school. It was only more than a month before the school year ended. My father would not like it, if he were alive. So I returned to school after the burial. My teachers were very supportive. They let me take make up quizzes.

One of them was a male teacher in Math who showed compassion or was it love? He used to touch my long hair when I was sitting down at his class taking make-up exams. He blushed whenever I turned around and looked at him.

He was young. He just graduated from his bachelor’s degree and it was the first time that he taught in the school. He was a substitute to his sister, our previous Math teacher.

He gave me a high grade which gave me an average grade that qualified me for full scholarship.

Before he left for Manila to take his masteral, he called for me. He told me to wait for him.

He never came back or I was already gone when he did. No, the feeling was not mutual.
At that time my only goal was to finish my studies.

First Year- Pandanggo sa Ilaw

Dear insansapinas,


First yearI was in the top section and I danced Pandanggo sa Ilaw.

Except for me and some five classmates, the members of the class were all valedictorians and salutatorians. They were the bunch of young people who thought that the school owed it to them that they enrolled in that university. They were given full scholarship. Mine was just partial but at least, it was the same school where I would be starting my high school.

The principal played favorite to our class. He assigned us a room exclusive for our use. Instead of us moving from room to room every change of subject, the teachers would come at their scheduled time. I did not see any protest action but I thought the issue was settled in the principal’s office. The message was “don’t pamper the guys with IQ that is not lower than 140” or else the faculty would resign en masse. I still did not understand about mass action then.

So we were treated just like the ordinary “mortals”. But the “classmates” walked in the school’s corridors with prideful swagger as if they were god-chosen to be in the elite section. Not me. I got friends in the lower sections who I hang out with during class break. I found it boring to be with guys who did nothing but memorized with their eyes rolling not because they’re laughing but because they can’t cram all those formula and definitions.

The competition for the grades was just nerve-wracking and stressful that one lady student broke down. She was a candidate for Miss Loonies of the year award. She came with wreath of flowers in her hair and danced even without music. We called her Sisa. You know the demented mother of Basilio and Crispin in Jose Rizal's novel, Noli Me Tangere. We were reading Noli Me Tangere then for our Pilipino class. If we were asked to dramatize that chapter about Sisa, she would have gotten the role, hands down. The Pilosopo Tasyo was another classmate who was in the habit of annoying our teacher in History by his off-tangent-sarcastic-patama-remarks.

Grade Six - New School Again

Dear insansapinas,












Grade 6 - New school, new classmates and new teachers. I danced the Havanera de jovencita

The new home was an hour ride from Manila. My father was provided with housing facility and car service.

I was a late enrollee again. My form something something had to be submitted to the
Registrar’s office.

My name was foreign sounding so that every time my teacher called my name in the roll, the class was thinking if if I were a foreigner. There were many pupils in the class whose last names were Smith, Johnson and etc. They were disappointed to see an olive skinned girl with a pigtail sitting at the back, after I was officially admitted in the sixth grade.

They were speaking a dialect which I could not understand. The girls would not talk to me. As if we were always in a retreat which was a requirement in that Catholic school. No talk.

During a school celebration, everyone was required to participate. No selected dancers to form a group. The whole class was the group including other sections. The costume for the dance was expensive. It was a Maria Clara. My mom could have sewn it for me but the PE teacher said that we were going to have it made by a seamstress she commissioned to do all the costumes for the dances. My mom said that she smelled a big commission. I did not understand what she meant. The teacher said that we can wear the costume with just a little alteration for our graduation dress. It was made from white lace and silk fabrics. Who would wear a llong or abbreviated Maria Clara in a graduation? I was wrong, there were many.

Grade 5- i danced the BANGA

photocredit: fiesta gallery

Grade 5- I danced the BANGA.

First day of school, I was at the gate one hour before it opened. I could have reprimanded the school guards why they came late.

Every school day, I would wake at 4:30, prepare my breakfast and school lunch (remember when I talk about lunch boxes) and leave home before 6:00. The school was several blocks away. My class is 7:00. My mom was bothered why I was always early leaving home. My twin brothers insinuated that I might be seeing someone. Hahaha.
So one day they tailed me. It was at that time when I chance to meet my male classmate with a yaya also going to school.

My brothers reported to my mom about the boy. Yucks. I felt that he was a mama’s boy. He’s still brought to school by a yaya at grade 5. Sheesh.

So I changed my schedule. I timed my walking to about 15 minutes. I left the house 25 minutes before the time.

One day, I was already half-way going to school when I realized I forgot my assignment. I hesitated going back because I would be late for my class but I could not also afford not to submit my assignment, that would be a zero. So, I turned 360 degrees going home.

By the time, I reached the school, the gate was already closed. The policy of the school was for the teacher to get the tardy student from the school lobby.

My teacher reprimanded me for being late. It ruined her record of 100 per cent no tardy students.

Like Scarlett O' Hara in Gone with the Wind when she promised herself that she would not be hungry anymore, I made a resolve that I wll never be late again.I made a schedule with time allocations for each activity. It was a crude Gantt chart. I started being OC when it comes to keeping up with schedules. Later in my life, it was the source of many stresses.

This was also the year when I had my monthly visitor. My mom was not prepared to give me a talk about it. She thought that I was too young to give me a prologue about the birds and the bees and she never expected it would come early for me. That day, I thought I was suffering from incontinence. I could not get up from my desk. I felt wet all over and it's red. It was blood. Am I dying? Am I bleeding to death?

Grade 4 - I danced THE KURACHA

Dear insansapinas


Grade 4
My brothers and I were transferred to the same school. I danced the kuratsa

And they danced the maglalatik.

I don’t know why it was difficult to transfer schools in the Philippines. Here in the States, they accept transferees anytime.

Because I was a transferee, I was put in section 2. Only those who finished their grade 3 in that school were assigned in section 1.

I was also made to sit in row 4. Row 4 was supposed to be for low learners. *heh*.
After being there for a month, I slowly moved from one row to another until I was seated
at the back of row 1. yeoh.

During parents’ meeting, my teacher informed my mother that I was bright (ahem) but I had inferiority complex. I seldom raised my hand for recitation. But I was always called in front of the class to set a role model for neatness. Thanks to my mom.

We had a bulletin board where papers of pupils who had good penmanship were posted for a week. So I practised writing. That was when I learned how to recycle. I used the old notebooks of my brothers. I wrote, I want to be a nun. *heh* That was the cause of endless teasing of my older brothers.
I also practised drawing.

Grade 3- I`danced the ITIK-ITIK

Dear insansapinas,


Grade 3

I was a late enrollee again and I danced the ITIK-ITIK.

We moved to the big city (aka Manila for you) and there were paperwork for my transfer. It was a private school. My uniform was white with two big pleats running across from my shoulders to the hemline. Then there was a belt and a small necktie. It was not a clipped necktie, mind you. I had to learn the twist-and-turn and pull tricks to put it on.

My mom saw to it that I came to class very neat and clean-looking with my black shoes-dust free or my white sneakers for PE, smudge free. My hair was neatly combed with a barrette or with a small ribbon which I always removed upon entering the school grounds. My male classmates would tease me that I got a small helicopter on my hair.

She was not surprised when I was picked by the principal to lead the flag ceremony of the school…that was to stand there, mouth the first line of the Pambansang Awit, conduct the singing and lead the recitation the Panatang Makabayan afterwards. I stood ten feet tall from the stool where they made me stand to be seen by the people at the back. I agonized for a week memorizing the PA and PM. My mom was elated. She could see a light at the end of the tunnel. Her daughter who did not love school was beginning to stand out.

Months after, I was bringing extra clothes ( pair of short pants and shirt) going to school. My partner-in-crime classmate lived near the school. In the afternoon, most of our classes were the non-academic, PE and Vocational or Home Economics. So we changed from the uniforms to civilian clothes. We scaled the back fence of the school so we didn't have to get past the guard. My brother busted me in my "little crime". Ouch, grounded.

For the school program (why do they always have that yearly), I was made to join the "itik-itik" group.
My partner was my rival in the honor roll. Yes Virginia, I was running for honor in that school for a change. I always carried with me extra apple for the teacher. hehehe. I had no complaint.

My mother sewed me a beautiful costume which was made of red fabric with black stripes. I liked it.
The family were there. When I got home, my twin brothers would mimic the walking of the duck, complete with the quack, quack sound whenever they had the chance and my parents were not looking.

GRADE 1 AND GRADE 2 - ANG KULIT KO

photofromthe internet

If there is already an internet and a blog when I was in my grades, these are what I am going to blog.

Grade 1-
I was a late enrollee and I danced the tinikling.
My mother had to think of a new name for me. I won’t use my birth
And Christian name. It was my paternal grandma’s name. I did not know that it was an Italian because it is a name of a saint. Ah basta. So she changed it. It sounded French. A name of a French actress daw. I only came to know who she was when I came to US and had seen her old movie in the American
Movie Classics. Too bad, before I graduated in college, I had reverted back to my old name.

Dance: We had a program where we were going to present, a native dance. My teacher who I suspected did not like me partnered me to a short and "napabayaan-sa-kusina(plump) boy. Yeah, Virginia, even at the very young age, I wanted someone who’s not physically challenged. Blame it on movies and books where Prince charming is supposed to be good looking and komiks which “bida” (leading character) must be the Adonis type. Worse was when my older brothers who picked me up after class and watched the practice while waiting would tease me by imitating the movements; one was supposed to be me and the other was my partner. My brother who mimicked my partner would flex his knees to show that my dance partner was short and puffed his face to show that he needed a little restraint from eating junk food.

Tsismosos at Tsismosas sa School Part 2- Pinay Reminisces

Dear insansapinas,


Ang ikukuwento ko saiyo insan ay noong nag-aaral ako sa Graduate School. Syempre ang mga kaklase ko dito ay mga may edad na karamihan, may mga posisyon sa kanilang mga opisina at marahil kaya lang nag-enroll ay para sa promotion. Pero eto tsismis lang ha. Kaya yong iba nag-eenroll para may alibi silang huwag umuwi ng bahay at mag-excuse sa mga family affair pag weekend dahil mya group meetings. Alam mo insan, dinidivide -divide kasi kami sa grupo para maghanda ng aming presentasyon kaya kailangan naming magkita-kita pag walang pasok sa school o sa opit. Eh anong araw ba yon? Di Sunday. Kasi sa Saturday, may pasok kami sa school.

Minsan Sunday, hindi pa ako nakakapagbihis nang may humintong kotse sa tapat. Misis daw siya ni...blah blah. Bakit daw hindi umuwi ang mister niya? Aba malay ko ba. Tagatago ba ako ng mister? At sino ba ang mister niya. Ah ang lintek na kaklase ko, ako pala ang ginawang alibi sa overnight nila ng kaklase kong babae na ang tsismis ay kulakadidang (read: mistress) niya. Akala niya, hindi ako pupuntahan ng misis kasi sa
Batangas ito nakatira eh sa Las Pinas ako nakatira. hehehe buking.

Nang magkita kami ng kaklase ko, hindi ako binati. Lumayo din yong babae sa akin. Kasalanan ko ba kung magsabi ako ng totoo.

Ang problema, kumalat na tsismis yo sa school. Eh hindi naman ako ang nagkalat. Yon namang sekretarya ang nagsabi na nakuha pala ang address ko sa kaniya dahil hinahanap ng asawa ang asawa niyang hindi umuwi. Gulo noh.

Itutuloy, insan. Ang pagkakaospital ng babae. Gulo talaga ng buhay.







Pinoy,Pinay, balikbayan,
love,Charlotte's Web,Dakota Fanning, romance

Skeleton in my Closet Purse

Dear insansapinas,

Naku huwag kang mag-isip na meron nga akong kalansay sa aking closet. Kung may kalansay man ay siguradong kalansay ng mga naliligaw na mth na gustong kainin ang aking santambak na damit. Hindi nangyari ang istorya sa San Francisco o kaya'y sa Los Angeles. Diyan nangyari sa Pinas noong ako ay istudyent pa.

Talagang mga buto ng tao insan. Hindi ako nagbibiro. Mamatay man ulit ang mga kalansay.


Sa College kasi may subject akong human anatomy kung saan pinag-aaralan namin ang mga sulok-sulok ng katawan ng tao. Balak ko kasi noong una ay kumuha ng medisina. Nauwi ako sa pagkuha ng medisina sa medicine cabinet. ehek.

Boring na subject, day. Isa, yong professor, hindi nagsasalita. Ang mga lessons ay naka print-out o kaya ay nakasulat sa board. Tapos nakaupo lang siyang parang istatwa na may makapal na salamin habang kami namang mga istudyent ay pasilip-silip sa microscope. Sinusundot sundot namin ang mga parte ng puso. Kawawang puso kung lapirutin para lang makita ang mga maliliit na parte nito. May mga fetus sa bote, at higit sa lahat may tambak ng buto ng tao sa gitna ng klase. Mamili ka kung anong pag-aralan mo.

Madalas naglalaro kami---ng buto. Yeah, that's how bad we were. Walang pakundangan sa
buto ng patay. Yong panga ay ginagawa naming crown para sa ginagawa naming Reyna for the Day. Ang femur (buto sa paa) ang ginagawa naming setro).

Ang mga kaklase kong lalaki ay naglalagay ng mga buto sa bag ng mga babae kaya ako, tinatago ko ang bag ko sa klase.

Pero noong minsan nakalimutan ko yata. Kaya hayun, pagbayad ko sa dyip, umusli ang isang buto sa loob ng bag. Ang sama ng tingin sa akin ng aking katabi.

Pag-uwi ko ng bahay ay tulog muna ako para magising ng hatinggabi para tahimik mag-aral. Nagising ako ng ingay. Ang momsie ko, binuksan ang aking bag at nakita ang buto. Yakitiyak,yakitiyak.

Kaya mula noon, hindi na nila pinakialaman ang aking bag, baka susunod naman ay ahas ang makita nila. ehek




San Francisco,Valentine's Day,Los Angeles,Washington DC,purse