Today, May 4th of 2020, I turned 22 years old.
When I was in kindergarten (although it was more of a daycare), I remember being scared of going to class without my mother. I was a fast-walker, and my house and my school was just a-minute-distance. I am still not sure if it was my shy personality or the fear of making mistakes - and being scolded for it, that made me fear being away from a guardian who could defend me from a teacher.
When I was in elementary:
On first grade, I experienced having a crush at first sight, who was a boy that was smaller than me, and a girl that I decided would be my best friend because she gestured me to sit with her during the first day of class. I remember during a math class, our teacher was not in the classroom and she had us answer, or maybe copy some addition and subtraction from a textbook. Maybe it was pride that didn’t make me stop, but I ran around the classroom during our whole period while I watch my classmates do their work. I was scolded by my teacher, and I had to stay in class during lunch time. Looking back, I think my shyness disappeared during elementary.
On second grade, I met new classmates. I had a feeling that my adviser didn’t like me, but I was a child who wanted attention so I think I wasn’t the only one who worried about not being liked. One afternoon, a mischievous classmate, who sat behind me, told me he’s going to whisper something in my ear. I leaned closer to him, and he kissed me on the cheeks. Back then, I was laughing and cringing. Now, I wonder if he actually had a crush on me. My father was the one to drive and fetch me to/from school, but I remember commuting in a tricycle because the driver told me he was routed to my subdivision – and I was afraid to say no. I rode the tricycle, literally saw my father on his motorcycle less than a meter away from me, but I didn’t call him. I told the driver to drop me off at the municipal office (where my mom is still currently working for) because I had no money for fare. I came there, with my mom on the phone because my father was so worried that I had gone missing. That was my first commute experience.
(There was also one particular memory that I had with my subdivision friends. We went to play in the subdivision court, where these rice/palay crops were left under the heat of the sun. My friends went running on them, playing, tossing them around – and I watched from the side, telling them to stop. They ignored me, so I joined them instead. A wrong choice, now that I think of it. But hey, I was a child. One of the house owners near the scene saw us, and shouted her lungs out, calling us. She sounded very angry. She was angry. My friends ran away, but I froze on the spot. She kept shouting at us, telling us how it was so wrong that we would step on and play with food. Or maybe she kept on shouting because I was still there. Maybe she was just scaring us, and she had no intention of scolding us face-to-face. But I walked towards her, scared but, ready to be scolded. Alone. I don’t know how to put it into words now, but the tricycle driver incident and the angry woman incident made me think if I was a people-pleaser, a person who couldn’t say no, or just a girl who didn’t want to be bad.)
On third grade, I met the teacher who changed the path I thought I was destined to take. I didn’t know I had potentials, but somehow, she saw it (whatever they were) and encouraged me to take an admission test for the fourth grade special class - called SPED, at that time, but it literally just meant the highest section. I took the test, at that time I didn’t know what it was but, I just did. She came to our classroom one afternoon and she told me the proudest “congratulations” I would ever hear from a teacher, or from a stranger, when I passed the exam. I decided I want to be that for someone. Someone who sees potentials. Someone who encourages to taste and see. I was good with those window drill cards, with M1 (Multiplication 1) and D1 (Division 1). Answering those was like an unspoken competition between my classmates, and I always finished first. No kidding, I think my longest record for that was a minute. Around our fourth grading period, we did A1 (Addition 1) + S1 (Subtraction 1) again. I took a longer time, while my other classmates finished them - not in a flash, I must say, but way quicker than I did. I remember looking at my adviser in the eye at that time. She wasn’t judging me, but I felt so embarrassed. I realized that time, that we are not always the best. That there are things other are better at. It made me humble, for a few months, until I became very self-centered – this one I hadn’t quite realized until college. For some reason though, I comforted myself that I was good at the ‘higher’ level Math: multiplication and division. But none of it mattered when I went to high school, because I sucked so badly at Math.
On fourth grade, I attended the highest section class. I had no idea though. I had this slam notebook that I passed around for my classmates to answer – with their names, birthdays, favorite things, crush, own definition of love. Maybe it was just a girl thing, those slam notebooks, but I knew I really liked knowing about people. Not gossip, but just knowing. My adviser confiscated that slam notebook one morning, and she kept it until the afternoon. I don’t remember when, perhaps a few days after that, she changed our seating arrangements and she made me sit on the front row desk, on the third column – which made no sense because only shorter people are ‘allowed’ to sin on the front. But it would make sense if I sat with my crush from grade 1, the boy who was smaller than me. She read my entry in the slam notebook. That was the only explanation I could think of. I do not know the term, but after being loyal to my grade 1 crush, I ‘picked’ another crush as a joke, and it became an inside joke between me and my classmates. That crush lasted until sometime in high school. Then two real crushes in high school. If I count it, I actually have few real crushes that lasted me YEARS before I could move on from one crush to the other. I couldn’t really remember if I was attracted to them, or if I just picked a crush and stick to it. However, it mattered to me that I didn’t easily change my picks. I was loyal. When I was 18, rather than picking, I chose a guy I wanted to date. It was the same guy who, according to him, liked me and waited for me ever since I was in high school. Despite my indecisiveness, I was sure of him. At 18, I started believing that love is a choice and not just a chance to pick.
On fifth grade, I first experienced being unable to see at far distances. We had these cute wooden tables to ourselves, way different to the classic desks we were all used to. I was on the farthest corner from the blackboard. I remember my adviser telling me to get eyeglasses – there was this medical mission activity just outside our school that focused on giving eyeglasses to those who need it. But I didn’t come. I reasoned that we have a Math quiz and I don’t want to miss it.
The truth was I couldn’t go there alone. And I never had my first eyeglasses until around the third grading of my first year in high school, so I became so terrible at Maths and Algebra because I couldn’t see the equations on the board – and no words would help me understand Math without visual representation, not now and not ever. Because of my near-sightedness, I decided that Math wasn’t for me. It lasted until college, and maybe it will for the rest of my life.
On sixth grade, I saw two of my teachers cry. One was out of embarrassment. One was out of worry. Seeing the first teacher cry made me think “I don’t want to be like her.” Maybe I judged her. But after some thinking, it changed to “I don’t want that to happen to me.” It was a major shift of perspective for me, because that time, I realized that our mistakes or situation do not define us as a whole. There are just some ugly things that happen to us no matter how hard we try. The next day, she came to school and we had our class normally. Maybe it was an adult thing, just moving on after a bump. But crying, I thought at age 11, was not an adult thing. The second teacher cried out of worry because she thought one of my classmates had gone missing, after messing up an errand. Maybe it was relief? Or anger? I thought negatively (but not really) of my teachers who cried, but at age 20 (no matter how I tried to be professional, refusing to accept their Facebook friends requests until the school year was over), I cried out of frustration in front of my (practice-teaching) students. But on that day, my grand demo teaching, I was so proud of them as well. I made sure I told them. I wanted them to be assured, that I believe in them. Always.
In my first year in high school, I met my first official best friend. I first befriended her because she was seatmates with my crush from grade 4 (my second pick), the one that lasted until sometime in high school. It was a ‘bad’ motive to befriend someone, I know. But it wasn’t like I did it to harm her or anyone. (Are our motives justified if we think that way?) And she couldn’t care less about him being her seatmate, that we became friends just because. No idea how, but we just did. Whenever I open my Facebook, and those Facebook memories pop up, our posts and conversations appear – and I realized that I was really self-centered. It made me thankful that she remained being my friend. It was too late to ask her now if I annoyed her or offended her. The dislike I felt from my other high school friends was so obvious – but no matter how I try, I couldn’t remember a moment that I felt that she disliked me. Maybe she was just good at concealing her feelings. After several years, despite the differences in our streams and boats, she is still one of the few friends I trust and treasure. Maybe I wish things were different, but remaining on one place just because is good for me, too.
In my second year in high school, I met new friends who introduced me to Kpop – and I had no idea how they would bring colors to my high school life. They all said high school is the best part of life. I used to think it was because my high school life had Kpop in it. Maybe it was one factor, but what were the odds of nine high school girls being friends and making colorful memories? Whenever I hear the word nostalgia, those were the memories, and the people I think of the most. The people who first pointed out my self-centered personality, maybe out of anger or frustration, or concern. I figured as adults, such feelings often roll into one honest remark that we often mistake as hatred or judgment. One of them, I remember, was so guilty when we talked about it after some years. Maybe she reflected on it. But I did, too. Maybe she regret saying them, maybe she regret ‘being mean’ but looking back, it was a good reminder to me. Maybe we identify our ‘mistakes’ or ‘bad attitude’, and feel sorry for them, and that’s a good way to go – but I love how God makes it for the good of others, too.
In my third year in high school, I won my first competition (ever) in an essay-writing contest during our Buwan ng Wika (Filipino Club’s event). I remember my eight girl friends sitting beside me during the programme, and we were waiting for the announcements. The second placer was in the same year level as me, only she was in the highest class. And let’s be honest, I sucked in a science high school and often felt like I didn’t belong there. One of my friends comforted me, accepting defeat, I didn’t dislike the gesture. It felt nice, that her first reaction was to comfort me, and it was enough for me. But I was expectant, for some reason. Maybe it was my self-centered personality, although I didn’t really think I was the best. I just believed I was good. The host announced that the first placer, the winner, was in the third-year too. My friends cheered and screamed, the whole batch screamed. They knew it was me. I knew it, too. I went up the stage to receive my certificate, and on my way down the stage, I caught a glimpse of my adviser coming towards me, she was proud. I missed the steps, and I slipped in front of the whole gymnasium. They laughed, but I wasn’t really embarrassed – because I won. And even if it was a third placer award, I wouldn’t feel embarrassed too, I was sure. Because I won. I was laughing when I went back to my seat, my friends waiting but still laughing so hard. Two of my friends won, too. It was a great afternoon. I won in a writing competition, and my friends whom I treasured more than anything, as a fourteen-year-old, were there, not just for me, but with me. I became a total introvert in college, had social anxiety issues that made me miss classes on my final year. I started to say that I don’t like people, but that wasn’t true. I wanted company. Not people who would always agree with me, but people who were sure they would be with me.
In my final year in high school, I saw the remark of my teacher in one of my essays for her subject. She said I had a unique, good style in writing. It made me feel good, so good that if I think about it now, I would have bragged about it to my friends. But I can’t remember that now. The same teacher saw me and told me that I should join the campus’ school paper. But maybe I was lazy, or I didn’t see the point of joining in my final year. But I remembered thinking maybe I was worth being on a school paper, so I joined one in college. I remember graduating, and my friend crying to the song Long Live by Taylor Swift, as we huddle up, all nine of us. I remember enjoying the moment, the idea that I graduated in a science high school despite being so bad in Maths, or maybe everything except English. This high school had influenced me so much, making me think I am not good (after years of realizing that it was my perspective that lowered my self-esteem and not the curriculum) – but also giving me the privilege of being in good company, my friends. The future was set for me after that graduation. I already had a university to attend, with one of my friends. Most of us would study in Manila, and we could meet from time to time. That was my plan. That was what I was expecting. I was 15. I didn’t know that it would change for me. All of it.
College was not easy for me. I remember being an outcast in my block section because they disliked the university publication I was a part of. But I had two friends who stayed with me. We were inseparable. Not until we reached second year and had different majors. This was when I wondered if I was a bad friend who was not good with maintaining friendships. I had many friends from when I was young and until now, and I came to a conclusion that I am the friend that you couldn’t remain friends with if you don’t see me often. It still applies up to this day, with few people merely making it. Not that I was a price or something. I was a bad friend, I admit. In my final year in college, in the year of social anxiety, depression, and missing classes – I told my college friends to “leave me alone” but in the nicest way possible. They were mad that I missed classes. They talked it out with me, communicated with me, but all I asked was for them to let me do what I want and have to do, all by myself. But I have a reason! Now that I think about it, it was so immature. I felt guilty that they had to deal with the “Where is she?” “Is she coming to school today?” and being stuck with an irresponsible friend who does not even speak whenever she comes to class.
I was wrong. I realized I was just being ignorant of the company I have in them, refusing to admit that I need their help. Or that I need anyone’s help. The next day after I told to leave me alone, they let me do what I had to do. Of course, it would be wrong to think that they abandoned me after I tell them that. But I never really thought that way. They were the nicest friends, the deepest friends. We refused to badmouth our classmates (but not always, haha), refused to “help” each other by cheating, refused to do anything that is wrong. Instead, we pointed out what was wrong. We pointed out what we needed to do properly. Pointed out what was wrong with me. Pointed out what I need to do properly. They were not the type to get sick of a friend and leave them hanging. They were the friends who communicated with me, and friends who wanted to be my company. We didn’t graduate together, of course. I stayed for one more year in college, completing the required courses for me to graduate. I stayed for one more year, and they were with me. I was not with them for their final year in college, but they were there for mine. I learned a lot of things in college. My darkest days, yet, were in college. But in those dark days, I was enlightened by one realization: It is a gift to have a friend who corrects you; communicates with you; comes to you even in during your stormy seasons.
Unsure, afraid, but thankful.
I looked back in my life so far. Suddenly, all the things I expected and wanted to have and achieve at 22 weren’t as important as the things I learned from my past.
If it weren’t for Jesus and for the people He allowed in my life to be my company, I wouldn’t have felt this joy.
