Early Herran Years

Reading all the previous entries does overwhelm you with a tsunami of nostalgia. There will never be another Herran. With its imposing buildings, corridors that seemed to whisper of secrets through the ages (like were the nuns really bald??), that incandescent lagoon that drew all of us like moths, the serene chapel (with the tombstones on the side...). How can one ever forget Herran??

Just like Monica, I think the entire female population of my family came from Assumption. Being an only child did not help. My grandmother's studio was then at M.H. Del Pilar (it didn't have its present lovely reputation at that time hahaha). My parents dropped me off every morning and my mom waited at the Studio to get me at dismissal time. Both my parents were veritable chimneys and the long ride from Las Pinas to Herran insured that I would reek of cigarette smoke every single day. Some prep classmates actually commented that "you smell funny" as I lined up my rectangular school bag (with wheels) outside, in that fenced in area, prior to going to our classrooms. Then, while waiting, we would jump up and down those cement enclosures embracing the acacia trees until the bell rang.

I remember loathing sewing class. Those little white scraps of rectangular cloth and you had to do a running stitch, a blanket stitch, sew a buttonhole...omigosh..I felt near death. Years later, I would have the ultimate shame of actually FLUNKING sewing, I think in 2nd year, and taking summer classes to learn how to make a blouse. Of course, when I recount this shame, everyone asks "Why didn't you ask the maid to do it??" and I want to answer, all hoity-toity, "Because I was honest?" but the truth was, because I was an innocent (hahahahaha!) And now I'm an ob-gyn and I haven't yet heard a patient complain about how their c-section scar looks....hmm, maybe that's a whole different story?!?

The foreign classmate in the cutie picture was Tamarra but she was Spanish (at least, to my recollection). During recess, we would play in that central park in front of the administration building. There were slides and swings. The slides were built in such a way that there were 2 slides connected by a midline platform and when you climbed the ladder, it really felt you were high up, like on a pirate's ship and so we played pirate's or robbers or monsters, always making the slide home base. We were very enterprising young things then...

Truly, I hated the fact thay my mother signed me up to eat in the canteen. Assumption meat and I..well, let's just say no friendship ever developed between us and I still shudder when I see meat that has a circle of fat in the middle (oohhh, just saying it, am shuddering.) Bleah. But siomai and assumption tarts were the best. More so the fact that you got to spoon out gobs and gobs of guava jelly and could die of sugar overload and no one thought twice of it.
I dont quite remember the Grade..2? or 3? but Miss Moran was my Science teacher. We had a show and tell day. And Maridol Dilag brought a "balut" egg. And calmly opened it in front of the class. And calmly ate the chick? fetus? Ugh. Whatever. You can surmise that I am also not best friends with "balut". And Maridol, you scarred me. For life.

I remember in Grade 4 that, after lunch, a bell would ring and you had to get to your classroom pronto! Well, one day, Becky Sanares and I decided to play longer, bell rang, we still had to race up the stairs to get to the classroom. There were stairs on both ends of the 2-storey building and for some reason, we split up. I took one side, ran up, pelting for dear life towards the classroom when suddenly...Mother Rose Peter materialized out of thin air! Ulp! Too late to stop, going a gazillion miles a minute! What does this lovely, nurturing nun do? She sticks out her arm. It catches me at my neck. My feet go whoosh (still trying to run to the classroom) and I fall with a loud "thud!" to the floor. I look up with glazed eyes and she calmly scolds me and tells me to get moving. In the meantime, I feel my vocal cords will never be the same again. Oh well, at least, Becky got away. I begin to think of Mother Rose Peter as some quiet POWER, gently swooping when you least expect it. So when I see her eons later, I am surprised that she remembers me fondly (does not remember the ARM incident) instead remembers she put the veil on me for my first communion. What can I say? Memories are fleeting....more so when you take a hard fall in Grade 4 courtesy of jujitsu....

Ah the lagoon. It was a mad, careening rush to the lagoon every lunchtime. And whoever got there first filled up the 2 boats and had themselves a good time with the ducks and their poo and the wilting plants in that stagnant pond. But oh, when the bell rang (as in the ARM incident) and everybody rowed to get back to the dock and get off asap..well, that was a natural recipe for disaster. Maripaz de Sequera jumps out, I tumble into green murky water and surface, HORRORS! underneath the capsized boat. I can hear Becky's muffled voice "China where are you?" and I look gingerly at the water, knowing I have to dunk myself in again to get out. Not lovely at all. I re-surface once again and Becky gives me this look..its a look of horror...empathy...and outright hilarity. She finally has to smile and say, "C'mon, I'll bring you to the clinic". Because, though unhurt, the clinic had a shower and extra clothes. And I had green moss on my hands and forehead. So I take a shower and Mrs. Ibuna hands me a uniform. Remember, I am 9 years old at that time. She hands me a panty that fits but the uniform..oh,well...the uniform is for a high school person. The blouse reaches mid thigh. The skirt reaches my ankle. There are no shoes so have to wear my squeeky, squelching gregg shoes. No socks too. What a sight. And I have this faint sensation that I swallowed some water from the pond...

How about those annual vaccinations? All of us walking around like we had robot left arms (of course, NOW we know we should have moved our arms!!). I seem to remember being punctured yearly!!!!

Grade 4 was also when I discovered I was blind as a bat from reading comic books with a flashlight till late at night. I couldnt see the blackboard so I pestered poor Stella Mendoza to tell me what was written every 5 minutes. What a patient friend! Finally my mother had my eyes checked and I came to school with the BIGGEST, BLACKEST, DORKIEST glasses on earth. Enough said.

My, what a torrential tale this has been so far. Herran really is a state of mind. Talking and/or writing just unleashes it all. What a spectacular idea this is, Monica. BOW. Till the next off the wall commentary...