A few months ago, a very old friend reached out with an unexpected message.
Nuts Windsor, whom I had not since for perhaps twenty years, had been living in the US for years. We rarely spoke, more because of our respective circumstances, not to mention timezones, than anything else. So I was surprised when she asked me if I was willing to write something for the Catholic girls school from which we had both graduated.
Above: Can you find me and my toothy grin? Thanks, Nuts, for digging this out of the ancient past.
Our high school batch, Pink ’98, was celebrating its 25th year, and we were the hosts for this year’s homecoming. In addition to the big party, of course there was an alumni magazine, fundraising drives, medical missions, and all sorts of things. Another batchmate, Cai Ordinario, asked Nuts who else she would trust to be part of the writing pool for our batch’s contribution to the alumni magazine. I was touched when she asked me to help out, along with Anina Abola.
Everyone who knows me knows I did not have the best of times during my two years at Miriam College High School. I was only to happy to graduate and go to UP Diliman. But I would be lying if I said there were no good memories at all from that time.
Over a few weeks, Nuts, Cai, Anina and I threw ideas at each other, dug up ancient memories and intrigues, shared traumas and tribulations, laughed at our tita selves. I never expected to spend random weekends on Zoom with these ladies, but it was a lovey trip down memory lane, and an interesting opportunity to share what we had been doing over the past quarter-century. We thought about what felt appropriate to write, and the ways it felt right to write them.
Admittedly we all got a little over-enthusiastic, and our final drafts were a little too long for the final version! So, like Anina, I’m sharing the full text of what I wrote, below.
It’s funny how people who shared the same space at the same time can have significantly different memories and experiences, and this is incredibly true across the hundreds of girls–now women–who were all part of Pink Batch 1998. Many of these women I don’t even remember, their faces perhaps familiar, their names less so.
To be completely honest, I don’t remember much. I spent only two years at Miriam College High School, having transferred in junior year from another country. It was the first time I had ever studied in a Catholic girls’ school, and it was such an abrupt shock from the tiny co-ed school I had come from.
Dimly, I recall an uncomfortably stiff green skirt, and a drab tan blouse. I was intimidated by the fact that I was suddenly surrounded by over 300 girls I had never met before. I wondered, how could I possibly find my way in this vast campus? How would I survive such strict codes of conduct?
I look at my batchmates’ memories of the halls and the classrooms, the teachers and the school activities. It’s as if cobwebs are being brushed away from my own memories, lights shining brightly on fondness and feelings long hidden away. I wonder, now: it was only two years, but how much of that shaped the woman that I am today?
There are memories I am happy to find that I share with many others. “I always loved my stroll by the calachuchi path, it gave me so much peace,” says Michelle Tayler-Yao. There are places I barely remember, like the mini-forest, which Maria Victoria Martinez-Palad thought was dark and scary. “When I went back to visit, it’s cute pala, and safe!”
Sitting on the spiral staircase during breaks. Singing in the Music Room, or hanging out in the Library because of the air-conditioning. Inevitably someone brings up the cafeteria, and what was apparently some pretty good siomai. And of course, when you’re in high school, life’s important occasions include the Fair, Glee club performances, daily Mass. The readings and performances of Florante at Laura, Ibong Adarna, Noli Me Tangere, El Filibusterismo, Mga Ibong Mandaragit, all of these left their mark, such that many can quote entire lines from memory to this day.
Some other events, well, you had to be there. “The cheerleading competition during our freshman year. From the practices (which would sometimes go to midnight!), the actual competition, tension from other batches, to winning, to the aftermath of winning… What a rollercoaster,” recalls Diana San Diego-Schantz.
Kathrine Denice Aquino remembers, “We were the first to have a ‘Batch Night.’ I remember that I jumped through hoops in order to make the event happen. We had games reminiscing about our classmates during the first and second year, then we had a bonfire using our replica rifles, and slept inside our classrooms.”
Did you know? “We were the last batch to have the CAT program,” she continues. “We were always on our toes when Sir Skip and the Captains of Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, Delta, and Echo shout their commands. Shiny belts, trimmed nails, and snappy movements were the expectations. We also had an entire day of CAT training with obstacles, races, and a cheerleading presentation.”
For others, like Lauren Charisma Collada Jandayan, every project and event, every club and activity, was a lesson learned. “Being in the Lit Choir and Glee Club gave me a glimpse of what it’s like to sing for the Lord. HELE projects gave me an avenue to explore my creativity. Fairs, soirees, dances, proms, and balls opened up interaction with the opposite sex and how to act accordingly.”
Inevitably, there are favorite teachers and subjects. For Mariecris Vengco Araga, it was “Mr. Margarito Fernandez, Ms. Bernadette Windsor, and Mrs. Teresita Alve. My love for the Filipino language (and how I played around it) was nurtured more through the Filipino class, and how Mrs. Alve animatedly brought to life the characters. I know my strength was in history and I enjoyed every bit of how Mr. Fernandez taught us. And Nanay Dette, because of her I fell in love with Shakespeare and all the other aspects of literature.” For Ma. Katrina A. Salazar-Simon, “I remember training for mental algebra! Still very proud that I can just look at an algebraic equation and know how to solve it.”
We were lucky to have such dedicated teachers, Joanna Madeline Ponce Tiu recalls. “We didn’t have an ‘official’ tennis team in Miriam before. I and some teammates were only invited to represent the school whenever there were tournaments. Not having an official team also meant not having a tennis coach. But Ms. Dambie, our PE teacher, was assigned to accompany us to our games and be our school representative. She would cheer for us and act as our coach when needed. She was very supportive, and she even came with me and another student to Palarong Pambansa in 1996, in Gen. Santos, South Cotabato, as part of the official NCR team. The time and effort she gave to me and the team was such because she loved her job, and she had devoted herself to helping me and the team get as far as possible.”
There were those we remember for other, perhaps less fortunate reasons. Maria Argentina Luz Tabac says, “In junior year, we saw Sir de Leon eat chalk in front of the class out of frustration over Carla Aragon’s crazy question. The class was stunned and fell silent. A few minutes after popping that chalk in his mouth, he ran out of the room (to spit it out?) and then the class roared with laughter!”
Beyond the classroom, there are lessons so deeply imprinted in us that we recall them to this day, like the 7 Environmental Principles. I cannot for the life of me remember a single one (maybe Leslynn Marie F. Año does?), but I share with many others, like Anna Cristina Abola, Abigale Burdette Arceo Lim, Kathrine Denice Aquino, the memory of being “taught to care for the environment.” Like Maritza David, to this day I too still keep small pieces of trash in my bag when I can’t find a garbage bin.
Maybe we didn’t think back then about how these little acts of resistance connect to much larger social issues, but like Marina Surla-Mojica, we remember how “our Social Action class exposed us to the realities of other people’s living conditions, which was very far from our own.”
We didn’t think about it then, but the trials and challenges posed by our teachers were opportunities to grow and learn, especially for Missy Maramara. “I never thought of myself as a leader, so I didn’t want to direct the class play. Mrs. Alve told me, ‘Kung aarte ka, ikaw lang ang aangat. Pero kung ikaw ang magdi-direct, lahat sila aangat.’ We didn’t win, but everyone seemed to have fun acting and putting up a play. I always go back to that experience every time I am invited to go out of my comfort zone and do something to help others, to let others experience the joy I experience in doing what I love, to find ways of collaborating, and to do things not for the result but for the process.”
We didn’t think about it then, but we were a generation straddling change and contradiction, “the strange contradiction of a place which tried to be progressive but was also so conservative at the same time,” muses Anna Cristina Abola. “It helped make the general strangeness of just growing up and changing something to get used to.” For Gaile Aguila-Macatula, “We’re that generation of Xennials who were enjoying the best of the old world (pagers before cell phones!) and the new world (smartphones and social media) — it’s like we’re old but not THAT old!”
We didn’t think about it then, because we were busy thinking about the Backstreet Boys and all the other boy bands. We were busy being kilig over Piolo Pascual, Rico Yan and Diether Ocampo coming to our HS Fair variety show in 1997. We were busy celebrating the country’s successful hosting of the APEC Summit, and World Youth Day, and the Philippines being named the Tiger of Asia. We were busy being teenagers, immersed in the world around us, oblivious to our futures.
All these things happened long ago, but I don’t think we realized then how much those years would shape us. From the spiral staircase and the music room and the cafeteria, we went out into the world and shared what we learned. And it turns out we learned quite a lot.
I’m surprised to find that I enjoyed writing this, and I’m so grateful to Nuts, Cai, and Anina for the opportunity to look back, and to appreciate what we had.
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