I’ve never been fond of Tagalog titles. It must be coz of the way we were raised. Growing up in a Bisaya household (both my folks are from the south: dad’s an Aklanon while mom’s from CDO), our exposure to Tagalog programs, books or music was not quite that extensive. Our shelves were stacked with English titles, from collections of nursery rhymes and fairy tales, to classic novels; from “alphabet books” to Collier’s encyclopedia; from basic science books to Isaac Asimov and Stephen Hawking. Of course there were the occasional “Funny Komiks," especially when I had 25-centavos saved from my usual daily school allowance, but most of the time, I’d be raiding the bookshelf for “My Bible Friends” or “Fairy Tales”. I wasn’t much into pictures… I just loved reading new words, then looking them up in the dictionary for their meaning. I remember asking mom, over lunch, what the word “virgin” meant coz I read it in “My Bible Friends” (about the Immaculate Conception). I was five or six then. Syempre, I got a mouthful from mom. Something about spending too much time on books (Weird… some folks would literally shove books to their kids’ faces, but there was my mom, telling me to stop reading!). She said I should go out into the streets like most kids and play tagu-taguan or patintero with our neighbors (kids from the squatters’ area… our subdivision was plagued by a squatting problem, but they were generally not much of a headache for us residents). Hmmmm (insert here: light bulb on the head)… Mom didn’t want me to know what “virgin” meant. I figured it was a dirty word or something. So, naturally, when she wasn’t looking, I reached for the dictionary and looked the word up. As in most cases, when I did something my mom warned me not to do, I got caught just as I was about to look up the meaning of the word “hymen” (coz it was mentioned in the word definition for “virgin”). En flagrante delicto. Caught in the act. I didn’t understand the definition, but judging by my mom’s reaction, I held the belief that it was a dirty word, up until I got into high school, something like “pakyu” (kiddie version) or “sheet” (that was how the neighborhood kids pronounced it). Of course, I didn’t see the word definition for “pakyu” in Merriam-Webster, neither could I comprehend why “sheet” would be considered a cuss word. That early experience with the word “virgin” taught me to lay my hands off on anything profane or even remotely profane. I believe the first “bad word” I said out loud was “gago” and I felt super guilty right after saying it. And I was already 15 then, in college! Grabe talaga! That was a really sanitized upbringing… To borrow a phrase, oft repeated by a good college friend of mine who graduated from Pisay (Philippine Science HS) – repressed, oppressed, depressed! Pero, it was really cool, coz I turned into a very verbose kid who knew exactly the right words to express whatever I felt. I gave my dad a headache every time I’d reason out. Namimilosopo talaga! Hehe. The kids in our house developed a taste for everything American. It wasn’t really colonial mentality. It was just that my mom’s grasp of the Tagalog dialect was (and up to now) quite pathetic (sorry, mom!) and, just to avoid conflict, everyone was encouraged to really learn and speak (or write in) English. No, we didn’t run around the house like American cretins, but we were able to hold our own against other English-speaking relatives (most of them from dad’s side of the family – the Sillimanites).
I first read about Bob Ong when a friend of mine forwarded a really funny text message, apparently lifted from one of his now popular books. It was extremely hilarious, by the time I got over how funny it was, my tummy hurt really bad and I kept breaking the wind. During one of my frequent “field trips” to Power Books, I saw a Bob Ong book proudly displayed on the stand right smack in the middle of the aisle. I remembered the funny text message, grabbed a copy, browsed through i
t and found myself looking for other Bob Ong titles. That day, I went home with “ABNKKBSNPLAKo,” “Bakit Baligtad Magbasa ng Libro ang mga Pilipino?” and “Ang Paboritong Libro ni Hudas.” I absolutely loved each one, but my favorite would be “ABNKKBS…” I found it to be a funny yet poignant, humorous yet bittersweet recollection of public school experience which most of us who had been public school-educated could really relate with. Every detail brought me back to my first three years of schooling in Malabon Elementary School. Those were my happiest years in school. If I had a say on the matter, I wouldn’t have transferred to a private school after third grade. But we moved from Malabon to Laguna during that time, and mom insisted that we get enrolled in a private school since most provincial public schools weren’t even half as good as their Manila counterparts (they still aren’t as of last check). I don’t really know much about Bob Ong, aside from the fact that I think he’s a really funny and smart writer, prolly the funniest and smartest of the contemporary writers (no offense to Jessica Zafra, who I think is also super funny and smart), so I can only make an assumption that maybe, just maybe, we are from the same generation. Wait, he did say he’s a Martial Law baby. So we’re prolly of the same age, give or take a year or two. The nutribun, Crest toothpaste-toothbrush-disclosing tablets combo, white-shirt-blue-shorts uniform, everything just screamed early 1980’s public school. There’s also something about his self-deprecating but honest humor that never fails to tickle your funny bone and tug at your heartstrings at the same time. Those were really good years, when all I worried about was how to keep my immaculately white shirt clean (coz mom would have a fit if my brother and I got home with mud-stained shirts). I don’t even remember really studying for an exam, but somehow, by end of term, my folks would repeatedly go up and down the stage and I’d be bringing home a silver medal every year. I thought I did something good to someone, which merited such good attention from my teachers. Bob Ong was right. It’s only now that I realize what amazingly great people my public school teachers were. Kids usually remember the really good (translation: you learned a lot from them) and the really scary (the “Tigangs” and the “Miss Uyeharas”) teachers. In my 17 years of formal schooling (from grade school, high school, college, medicine), the ones I remember the most are Mrs. de Guzman (petite, pleasantly plump and morena, with a mole on the right side of the face, just above the fold between her nose and her upper lip), Mrs. Gungon (mestiza, really fair, red lips, curly hair, easily the prettiest of ALL my teachers, bar none… tragic surname, though,. haha!) and Mrs. Sy (short hair, heavy make-up, really round eyes… she was responsible for my demotion from second honors to, *shock*, fourth honors… but I was okay with that, hehe!). I dunno where they are now. And while I might only be a footnote in their lives, I would like to think that all the things I am now, I owe a lot to them. So, if you know any of them, please let them know that somewhere in the south of Manila, is a really grateful doctor who remembers them and occasionally misses them… And thanks, Bob Ong, for that wonderful trip down memory lane…
t and found myself looking for other Bob Ong titles. That day, I went home with “ABNKKBSNPLAKo,” “Bakit Baligtad Magbasa ng Libro ang mga Pilipino?” and “Ang Paboritong Libro ni Hudas.” I absolutely loved each one, but my favorite would be “ABNKKBS…” I found it to be a funny yet poignant, humorous yet bittersweet recollection of public school experience which most of us who had been public school-educated could really relate with. Every detail brought me back to my first three years of schooling in Malabon Elementary School. Those were my happiest years in school. If I had a say on the matter, I wouldn’t have transferred to a private school after third grade. But we moved from Malabon to Laguna during that time, and mom insisted that we get enrolled in a private school since most provincial public schools weren’t even half as good as their Manila counterparts (they still aren’t as of last check). I don’t really know much about Bob Ong, aside from the fact that I think he’s a really funny and smart writer, prolly the funniest and smartest of the contemporary writers (no offense to Jessica Zafra, who I think is also super funny and smart), so I can only make an assumption that maybe, just maybe, we are from the same generation. Wait, he did say he’s a Martial Law baby. So we’re prolly of the same age, give or take a year or two. The nutribun, Crest toothpaste-toothbrush-disclosing tablets combo, white-shirt-blue-shorts uniform, everything just screamed early 1980’s public school. There’s also something about his self-deprecating but honest humor that never fails to tickle your funny bone and tug at your heartstrings at the same time. Those were really good years, when all I worried about was how to keep my immaculately white shirt clean (coz mom would have a fit if my brother and I got home with mud-stained shirts). I don’t even remember really studying for an exam, but somehow, by end of term, my folks would repeatedly go up and down the stage and I’d be bringing home a silver medal every year. I thought I did something good to someone, which merited such good attention from my teachers. Bob Ong was right. It’s only now that I realize what amazingly great people my public school teachers were. Kids usually remember the really good (translation: you learned a lot from them) and the really scary (the “Tigangs” and the “Miss Uyeharas”) teachers. In my 17 years of formal schooling (from grade school, high school, college, medicine), the ones I remember the most are Mrs. de Guzman (petite, pleasantly plump and morena, with a mole on the right side of the face, just above the fold between her nose and her upper lip), Mrs. Gungon (mestiza, really fair, red lips, curly hair, easily the prettiest of ALL my teachers, bar none… tragic surname, though,. haha!) and Mrs. Sy (short hair, heavy make-up, really round eyes… she was responsible for my demotion from second honors to, *shock*, fourth honors… but I was okay with that, hehe!). I dunno where they are now. And while I might only be a footnote in their lives, I would like to think that all the things I am now, I owe a lot to them. So, if you know any of them, please let them know that somewhere in the south of Manila, is a really grateful doctor who remembers them and occasionally misses them… And thanks, Bob Ong, for that wonderful trip down memory lane…
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