July 31, 2009

The First Day of Classes II

Now, time to begin my new chapter, and surprisingly, it began just seconds after my freshman buddy closed her homeroom door. I heard someone calling me. I heard a familiar voice, and upon locating the source, I saw Patrick and Kevin smiling at me. Of course, I waved and smiled, but I did not scream, for I was still in the first year corridor. I do not want to be reproached by a teacher at this very early in the school year.

They are on the Steel Kubo, and I was about a dozen feet away from them. I decided not to go to them, for to approach them, I would have to cross like seven mountains, seven bridges and experience the ten plagues.

I am excited to see my new classroom. Last year, the classroom of all fourth year students are on the Administration Building’s second floor. Argh. I hate the place. Each room has no comfort room, an amenity that was provided on my first three years here. The only available comfort room is hellishly smelly, and if you’ll try to release nature there, it takes guts, a strong lungs, an appetite for exotic food, an aversion of good fragrance and a sturdy immune system for you to stay alive. I swear, it’s HELL.

I tried to use it when I was in third year, because our Drum and Lyre room is just two doors away from the comfort room. The atmosphere was very humid and unpleasant. The green tiles on the wall seems like moss and fungi to me. The toilet bowl even holds a dark secret beneath its murky waters, and I’m telling you, you do not want to know what is inside there! The only shield I have was colds, making my sense of smell inactive at that time.

Speaking of Drum and Lyre, on my way up, I saw Sarah and Sharmaine, two of my co-lyrists. Of course, another wave, and another smile. I asked them if they know where the rooms of fourth year students are, and she confirmed that the rooms are upstairs. I went up, but there was only a few outside, including Mrs. Alfonso.

Mrs. Alfonso was our guardian back in RSPC (Regional Schools Press Conference). She is the most motherly of all the teachers I have seen in the school. She guided us for two years, RSPC 2007 and 2008. I’ll describe her as kind and very, very thoughtful. She doesn’t want any trouble, and safety is one of her main concerns. She always sees to it that everyone’s well-being is ensured. But, she is so so so strict.

I entered the classroom, expecting a hero’s welcome. I missed the first day of classes back when I was in second year. When I climbed up the stairs, everyone was hugging me and greeting me, as if I am Manny Pacquiao who won a million dollars in Vegas.

I knocked at the wooden door and pushed it calmly. The door did not open. It was stiff and it needs force to be opened. After an effortful push, the door let loose, revealing my forcing face to both my new and old classmates. Upon opening the door, a new world was revealed. The atmosphere was more professional, and the edges look more matured. The lights gave a sense of challenge, while the podium signified excellence. The words “IV-Ampere” in the wooden door told me that I am in the most prestigious section in the high school department. We are the most looked-up to, and we are the paragons of everyone.

Oh, and I had dreamt of this since I was in first year. Whenever I see those tall senior students passing by our side, there was a sense of amazement of how great they were. When they say that they are from IV-Ampere, I just stood in awe thinking of many more questions to ask them about the section. The people of IV-Ampere are the most famed, the most decorated and the most mentioned. They are the stars.

OK. And here I am, and I picked the chair on where to seat. I expected a hero’s welcome, but I was merely a wind who passed by. As I can recall, only two greeted me a “hi” on the moment they saw me, and the others just said it after some minutes. Some did not even greet me. The first person I noticed was Paul, for his crazy voice is infesting the silence of the room, as what he always does. He is telling barber shop stories again, and cracking some of his scripted humor to everyone.

I sat, and joined the chat by myself. Paul asked me to sit beside him, and for a while, the annoying noise I despised for some time, was suddenly cherished by my ears. Oh, I missed them.

The number of people continued to increase, and one by one, new faces enter and old faces rejoin my happy eyes. Every creak of the wooden door is pleasant music to me, for it is like a singing doorbell telling you that there is another visitor in your life. Though the hero’s welcome I expected didn’t come to see me, the experience is more than enough for me.

Ian was still joking, as what he always does last year. His jokes on the first day were much more obvious and funny, as the previous great jokers of the class have been displaced to the other sections, thus making the comical competition for him a piece of cake. He is setting the new standards of jokes in the classroom, but one of his jokes gave us our first fright.

Our new adviser, Mrs. Alfonso, came inside with an angry face. We are clueless as to what had caused that face to appear so prominently to her, and then, she angrily spoke these words: “Ayoko sa lahat ang ginagaya ako. (Of all people, what I don’t like are those who insultingly imitate me.)” After saying those fierce words in the classroom, she turned her back and slammed the door.

The noise was turned into sheer blankness, as if Silence has visited us all. The first one to break it was Vhinna, through her whisper, which always turns out to be heard by many. “Sino yun?” she said, asking on who was our new adviser reproaching.

Err. The flag ceremony is in minutes, and I am wondering why the teachers are not calling me. I finished first last year, and I expected a part in the first flag ceremony of the school year, or else, I’ll suspect that the March 25 tragedy have taken its toll. Our new adviser asked me to line the whole class up, as I was the president of the first section last year.

I calmly shouted that we all shall line up for the flag ceremony, and they all slowly followed me. I reached our place with only a few people present, and from that moment on, a series of images from the past flashed as if they are in a rolling filmstrip.

Exactly three years ago, well, not exact, but almost exact, I fell in line in this very place, touching the steel wires that fence us from the elementary. I was a “totoy” back then, no self-consciousness, for all I care about was seeing things, and not those people who see me. I have no high school friends then, and the real definition of friendship was still unclear to me. Happiness is still confined in watching TV and playing outside, and independence was still out of my vocabulary.

And everything was a living memory. The traditional flag ceremony resumed normally. The same old prayer, the same old national anthem, the same old oath, the same old school hymn, the same old mission and vision. Oh, how I missed this! But I was kinda sad. I thought I was going to lead in the flag ceremony but I was just a little too late. Sigh.

Anyways, it is the start of a new year. I’m now in fourth year level, 365 days away from my college life. It will be a new novel, but today, I’ll just focus on the last chapter of the happiest novel in my life so far.

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