Thursday
morning. I woke up with a mental list of to-do’s. $*|?**$ visit to deliver IV
fluids. Get back to do the laundry. With my second to the last PUJ jibe, the
open doors of the church invited me in so the last two hours were spent hearing
the mass. At the middle of the Eucharistic celebration, the heavy downpour
added darkness to the dusk creeping in. Having waited for ten minutes more, I
decided to wade waters to get to the last jitney back to the doctor’s quarter.
(So this is Manila and its famous flood.) My feet getting cold with the pooling
of rainwater inside my shoes reminded me of laundry powder so I dropped by in a
mart for some. Finally with the nighttime shower done, I hanged the last piece
of the three-day soiled uniforms for air drying by the washroom. After hungry
tummy pacified… Oh zzz’s, come to thee…
For today’s sake of celebrating teachers, let me get down my memory lane circa 1994. Ms. Florida Dao-ines was my grade 1 teacher in the then Kayan Community School. I thanked that I was bit of a reader so I was spared from her famed stick. Of course, my hearing wasn’t excused of her voice harping on the day’s if not yesterday’s lesson. Oh, I could see her small figure with her short curly hairdo passing by my grandparents’ place because she used to visit her brother on the next house. Ms. Dao-ines taught us room maintenance the organic way— scrub off graffiti on wooden desks with sandpaper tree leaves, sweep off dirt, whip the floor with banana leaves and finish it off with coconut husk. On my second year with my grandparents going as second grader, I had Teacher Jeaneth Juan. She was my first troop leader in GSP and Agadangan became a vivid memory of the Scout Movement. Enamored with her not-so-strict classroom bearing, my classmates and I were saddened when one day we came
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