Our batch had our first ever high school reunion. It had been 17 years since we last saw each other. Well, for others it was shorter for they continue to live or at least they lived longer in Sta. Ana, Manila than me. I went to college in UP Baguio and at that time when cellphones were a wave of the future, the moment we left our rented home and our telephone number behind, nobody was able to track my whereabouts.
But thanks to Internet in general and Facebook in particular, our reunion was held last Saturday in Makati. It had all the ingredients of what reunions ought to be like: happy shrieks and screams, long embraces, reminiscent songs, reunion shirts for everyone, photos, games, and a tear here and there. After all, we were quite close in high school even if ours was one of the biggest public schools in Manila.
I needed the quintessential “quite” as we were close then as classmates but “quite un-close” as batchmates. You see, public schools have a nasty segregation scheme based on standard “intelligence” parameters and this division based on “sections” is one big divide. Section one students (whether hidden as Section Einstein in 3rd year or Section Diamond in 4th year) were perceived as the best students. This is helped in no way by Section 1 students knowing and feeling the privilege of being crème de la crème.
Not only is high school separated between sections, it is also divided on other artificial walls like beauty, talent, and to an extent, financial capacity. The last one is probably the least of the divides as all of us are poor. It’s just a matter of who is poorer or poorest among all of us. To an extent, wealth or the lack of it only matters if it could make someone prettier because s/he has better uniform, school shoes, and school bags. So the only time poverty will be an issue is when it has implications on beauty.
But this reunion blurred the divide between sections. The committee that prepared the event was composed of people coming from different sections. And so it was able to reach out to as many batchmates as possible. Likewise, this reunion made a conscious effort to blur the wealth divide. The organizers, to their big credit, thought of asking all the attendees to use the same reunion shirt so that fashion would be a non-issue. The result did not just hide the well-off, it also contributed to a sense of unity and to better photo quality (choosing black, the shirt did not show our real state of fat).
Speaking of baby fats, it was funny to note that many, if not all of us, gained weight. Those who used to be slim and tight and fit now have bellies. Truly, time equalizes all of us. Those who have not seen me since high school commented on my trimmed down size. Classmates shriek, “pumayat ka” and “ang payat payat mo na” when they see me. This is often embarrassing as waiters would look to me and seem to ask, “Hah? Ano na lang sya dati?” I glared at the waiters and silenced my classmates.
It had been a short, sweet, and memorable reunion. It is nice to note that despite our lack and our challenges back then, batchmates, classmates, and schoolmates are better off now. Our batch artist is now a draftsman. A schoolmate who used to bully younger schoolmates now manages an aircon business. I have classmates who are now engineers, accountants, human resource heads, and who’s who in the world of sales.
Chances are, those with family now have better means to raise their children than we were in our time.
And we had one thing in common. We were products of the public school system with all its benefits and flaws. We were almost 50 in a class and there were around 18 sections in a batch. We were loaned books at the start of the school year and we needed to return the books, in good condition, at the end of the year. We cleaned our classrooms and corridors (sweeping, floorwaxing and scrubbing). We made do with fresh air and that small electric fan by the blackboard. We wore our school uniforms and school shoes until they were too tattered a new one (or a hand me down) was sorely needed. My Dad had a policy with my brother and I: we were not to buy new shoes during school year. We could only have new shoes when school started in June. Wear and tear simply needed to be repaired by good old rugby. When it can’t be remedied at home, then we had to go to the neighborhood sapatero.
But in spite of, if not because of, these difficulties, we’ve become better off. While a lot of factors surely contributed to this improvement, I am certain that our school – Mariano Marcos Memorial High School – had something to do with it.
And for that, I’d like to say thank you. To all the teachers, not just our teachers, but to all public school teachers who continue to teach young minds in public schools. Some of you were nasty then, but most were jewels. Our generation is wiser and wealthier because of heroes like you. May this new school year find you in peace, good health, and God’s grace. Salamat po.
And to my batchmates, classmates, I’m sure I can say, “kita kits!”
