School for Survivors
This is an original article I wrote and submitted to The Philippine Daily Inquirer Young Blood Section. It was published last September 11, 2003 on the Anniversary of the 9/11 attack in the US. I decided to reprint this in my blogs so that I can get more audience and more people will realize the plight of our public school students.
School for Survivors
(From Philippine Daily Inquirer)
Byline: Clerissa M. Carritero
THINGS will never be the same again. Gone are the days when I can buy spaghetti for P5, pull off tricks without paying for them, run inside the class while the teacher is writing on the board and put on an innocent look whenever I do some naughty things. Now that I am 23, I can only look back at the happiest times of my life, meaning almost all the things I experienced during my high-school years.
Ever since I graduated, I have missed the things that I usually dreaded during those years. Gone are the homework and the assignments and the teachers from hell. But as soon as I start reminiscing, I quickly realize that I regret not being a high school student anymore.
I transferred to a public high school for my second year studies after getting all of my education up to that time from a private academy owned by a religious congregation. I knew I was in for a lot of discomfort because I was accustomed to luxuries and easy living. But I was wrong.
On my first day in my new school, my new skirt which had been carefully pressed was drenched in brown, sticky mud. My new shoes grew two inches higher as mud accumulated on their heels. Inside our classroom, I had to sit down on the floor because there were not enough chairs for all the students in the class.
After that, I made it a point to be in school early so that I would have a better chance of winning the daily Trip to Jerusalem that all 80 of us in our class had to play to grab one of the few seats available.
During that year, I almost developed an allergy to peanuts. Our teachers were always selling something during classes, ranging from peanuts to yellow pad paper with our names stamped on them and just about anything and everything that would make students willingly part with their already meager allowances.
It was there that I learned to eat pansit or spaghetti "pahabhab." The teachers didn't provide spoons or forks, so we had to eat the food straight from their clear plastic containers. When we didn't have money to buy snacks, the teachers would give them to us on credit, with the understanding that we would pay the following day.
One year later, the members of our batch were dubbed as "addicts" because all of us, with very few exceptions, were skinny. We were assigned the rooms atop the highest hill on campus. To get to our classrooms, we had to climb for about 10 minutes. Then we had to go down for the flag ceremony and walk uphill again for our classes.
If you're lucky, the teachers would ask you to run errands two or three times a day. That meant walking up and down for approximately an hour as a compulsory exercise.
To this day, I still remember the "cursed" chair in our classroom when we were in fourth year. On the first day of classes, we were of course all excited to start a new school year. While we were exchanging stories about how we spent our vacation, a horrible smell suddenly filled the classroom. Apparently, a classmate was so excited to get back to school that she forgot her daily routine and had to use the chair because of an emergency.
When our teacher came in, she asked everyone to "face the front" like kindergartens while our poor classmate went out to wash herself and change her clothes. From that day forward, no one dared to sit on the cursed chair again.
In our school, wearing shoes was not a daily habit. During rainy days, we would often see a student or sometimes a teacher skidding and falling because the mud was so slippery. During dry seasons, our shoes were covered with dust by the time we reached our classroom. We could not wear shoes inside our classroom lest we make the shiny floors dirty. So we either walked barefoot, put plastic bags over our socks or just walk in our socks and let them get dirty.
Studying in a public school can be hard, what with the overcrowded classrooms, the small, airless rooms and the muddy grounds. A student really has to compete with his classmates every day and in every way for all of his high school life.
But life there can be fun, too. You do not need much because everybody else doesn't have much. You can go through high school with just the bare necessities. You can finish four years of schooling with only one set of uniform because no one cares if it's old or full of holes and stitches. Shoes are of little use. You don't feel ashamed even if you come to school with only P5 in your pocket. All you need is to be strong enough to survive all the hardships that come your way. And that is the greatest thing I learned in that school: to survive.
Going to a public school made me the strong person that I am today. I learned to see the good in ugly things and to laugh even at the most challenging moments. I have grown to love the little things and see beauty in simple things.
What I am today is the product of the many experiences I had in high school. When everyone is losing hope, I keep a positive outlook. Whenever I fall, I quickly pick myself up. I fight my own battles. I look at life with a clear perspective. And overcome the hurdles thrown in my path.
Had I stayed in the private institution where I studied in my younger years, I would have grown accustomed to its soft and luxurious surroundings and I would have turned into a weakling or a crybaby.
I thank God for leading me out of there and pointing me in the right direction. Now I am confident that when a strong storm blows my way, I will survive and remain on my feet.
Clerissa M. Carritero, 23, is a correspondent for a community newspaper in Rizal.
School for Survivors
(From Philippine Daily Inquirer)
Byline: Clerissa M. Carritero
THINGS will never be the same again. Gone are the days when I can buy spaghetti for P5, pull off tricks without paying for them, run inside the class while the teacher is writing on the board and put on an innocent look whenever I do some naughty things. Now that I am 23, I can only look back at the happiest times of my life, meaning almost all the things I experienced during my high-school years.
Ever since I graduated, I have missed the things that I usually dreaded during those years. Gone are the homework and the assignments and the teachers from hell. But as soon as I start reminiscing, I quickly realize that I regret not being a high school student anymore.
I transferred to a public high school for my second year studies after getting all of my education up to that time from a private academy owned by a religious congregation. I knew I was in for a lot of discomfort because I was accustomed to luxuries and easy living. But I was wrong.
On my first day in my new school, my new skirt which had been carefully pressed was drenched in brown, sticky mud. My new shoes grew two inches higher as mud accumulated on their heels. Inside our classroom, I had to sit down on the floor because there were not enough chairs for all the students in the class.
After that, I made it a point to be in school early so that I would have a better chance of winning the daily Trip to Jerusalem that all 80 of us in our class had to play to grab one of the few seats available.
During that year, I almost developed an allergy to peanuts. Our teachers were always selling something during classes, ranging from peanuts to yellow pad paper with our names stamped on them and just about anything and everything that would make students willingly part with their already meager allowances.
It was there that I learned to eat pansit or spaghetti "pahabhab." The teachers didn't provide spoons or forks, so we had to eat the food straight from their clear plastic containers. When we didn't have money to buy snacks, the teachers would give them to us on credit, with the understanding that we would pay the following day.
One year later, the members of our batch were dubbed as "addicts" because all of us, with very few exceptions, were skinny. We were assigned the rooms atop the highest hill on campus. To get to our classrooms, we had to climb for about 10 minutes. Then we had to go down for the flag ceremony and walk uphill again for our classes.
If you're lucky, the teachers would ask you to run errands two or three times a day. That meant walking up and down for approximately an hour as a compulsory exercise.
To this day, I still remember the "cursed" chair in our classroom when we were in fourth year. On the first day of classes, we were of course all excited to start a new school year. While we were exchanging stories about how we spent our vacation, a horrible smell suddenly filled the classroom. Apparently, a classmate was so excited to get back to school that she forgot her daily routine and had to use the chair because of an emergency.
When our teacher came in, she asked everyone to "face the front" like kindergartens while our poor classmate went out to wash herself and change her clothes. From that day forward, no one dared to sit on the cursed chair again.
In our school, wearing shoes was not a daily habit. During rainy days, we would often see a student or sometimes a teacher skidding and falling because the mud was so slippery. During dry seasons, our shoes were covered with dust by the time we reached our classroom. We could not wear shoes inside our classroom lest we make the shiny floors dirty. So we either walked barefoot, put plastic bags over our socks or just walk in our socks and let them get dirty.
Studying in a public school can be hard, what with the overcrowded classrooms, the small, airless rooms and the muddy grounds. A student really has to compete with his classmates every day and in every way for all of his high school life.
But life there can be fun, too. You do not need much because everybody else doesn't have much. You can go through high school with just the bare necessities. You can finish four years of schooling with only one set of uniform because no one cares if it's old or full of holes and stitches. Shoes are of little use. You don't feel ashamed even if you come to school with only P5 in your pocket. All you need is to be strong enough to survive all the hardships that come your way. And that is the greatest thing I learned in that school: to survive.
Going to a public school made me the strong person that I am today. I learned to see the good in ugly things and to laugh even at the most challenging moments. I have grown to love the little things and see beauty in simple things.
What I am today is the product of the many experiences I had in high school. When everyone is losing hope, I keep a positive outlook. Whenever I fall, I quickly pick myself up. I fight my own battles. I look at life with a clear perspective. And overcome the hurdles thrown in my path.
Had I stayed in the private institution where I studied in my younger years, I would have grown accustomed to its soft and luxurious surroundings and I would have turned into a weakling or a crybaby.
I thank God for leading me out of there and pointing me in the right direction. Now I am confident that when a strong storm blows my way, I will survive and remain on my feet.
Clerissa M. Carritero, 23, is a correspondent for a community newspaper in Rizal.
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