Cabanatuan City: Thank you for the Lessons and the Blessings (Part 1)

by Carmelita Cochingco Ballesteros.
September 1, 2012
Everything that happens to you is your teacher. The secret is to sit at the feet of your own life and be taught by it. Everything that happens is either a blessing that is also a lesson, or a lesson that is also a blessing. (Berends, 1993)
The sun has begun to set for me. I am 60 years old. Do I have another 10 years? 10 months? 10 days?
I cannot tarry and waste time1. I must sift the lessons and the blessings from my own life. Most of all, I must honor and thank those persons whose love and kindness kept me cool on hot days and sustained me during stormy seasons.
Childhood. I was born to Fernando V. Cochingco and Carmen G. Ariola in Nasugbu, Batangas on January 10, 1952. My siblings and I enjoyed a middle-class lifestyle with a full-time mother whose career was her home. My father, an accountant, received a salary that was more than enough to keep us healthy and happy.
Suddenly, my father went blind – and jobless — due to a rare disease of the retina. I was nine. My childhood Narnia fell apart. Fortunately, my parents’ parents and their extended families came to the rescue.
My mother’s brother told us to move to Cabanatuan City where my maternal grandparents and other relatives lived. In fact, my uncle bought for us a modest wooden house with a sari-sari store on Paco Roman Extension. This was in 1961.
My father’s parents scraped together some money to have my father’s eyes operated on. But the surgery was a failure. Life had become a struggle.
I remember studying by a kerosene lamp at night because we didn’t have electricity. I always did my homework because school was some sort of a ‘fantasy’ world. When I was in school, I was in a different realm, like Hogwarts School in the Harry Potter series.
Another uncle sent me as his personal scholar to the old Cabanatuan Institute (CI) where I completed Grade 4. Then I transferred to the former Cabanatuan West Central School (known today as Lazaro Francisco Elementary School) where I felt more at home among girls and boys who wore everyday clothes and slippers to school.
Now I realize that there were always uncles, aunts, cousins, grandparents, friends, and even godparents who helped us in many ways – they would give us sacks of rice or palay, baskets of vegetables and fruits, and money for uniforms, shoes, and school allowance. My parents, siblings, and I were able to keep our heads above the water because of our extended family and circle of friends. Thank God for the Filipinos’ strong family ties.
Honors. My transfer credentials from Nasugbu showed that I had obtained the fourth honors. At CI, I took the first honors; and at ‘West’, I found myself in the running as valedictorian. However, a big fuss was being made in school because of me. Some teachers thought that I did not deserve to become the valedictorian because I lacked residence in the school.
My family and I couldn’t care less. We were too preoccupied with making both ends meet. My mother, with my blind father as all-around helper, tended her home-based sari-sari store. As the eldest child, I helped at the store, did household chores, and babysat my younger siblings.
Although my family and I would not have complained whether I was declared valedictorian or not, my class adviser cared enough and fought for me. She is Mrs. Neminida Antonio-Badilla, the personification of fairness, justice, wisdom, and courage.
I don’t remember what she taught my classmates and me, but I certainly learned a life lesson because of what she did for me – a nobody. Thank you, Ma’am!
High School. I belong to Class 1968 of Nueva Ecija High School (NEHS). I enjoyed a tuition fee scholarship given by Sen. Juan R. Liwag, but the rest of school expenses had to be borne by my parents.
Despite my father’s blindness, my siblings and I went to school all the time. My mother worked very hard and kept our family together by remaining strong and determined.
My classmates and I had excellent teachers at the Nueva Ecija High School. Among them, one teacher remains etched in our collective memories. She was our English teacher in first year, and in fourth year. She was the bookends which held together our heady high school days.
She is Amelia G. Sarmenta, the synonym of “slave-driver.” She also stood for excellence and dedication, but most of us either hated her or feared her. She isn’t fierce or mean. In fact, she’s always smiling and amiable. But she really pushed us beyond our comfort zone. She gave us an overload of activities in the classroom and a double helping of reading and writing assignments.
Because of the wealth of comprehensible input which she gave us, we all acquired world-class communicative competence in English.
I knew it was world-class because, through her help, I won a year-long scholar-ship as an exchange student to the United States. Even the naughty and mischievous ones among my classmates concede that they owe their English fluency, and success, to Dr. Sarmenta’s “slave-driving” teaching style. Thank you, Ma’am!
Friendship. On the first day of gym class at NEHS, my female classmates and I were nervous. We were required to wear a skimpy skirt similar to that worn by marching band majorettes. The teacher had told us to take off our mid-calf yellow skirts, but nobody did.
The teacher was becoming impatient. Then one brave girl stepped forward with her head held high. She wore the skimpy skirt, complete with a confident smile on her face. She is Leticia L. Briones-Visperas.
We have become friends from that day onwards. It was an ordinary friendship in a school setting. Unlike other school friendships which wither afterwards, ours has remained steadfast through college, marriage, family life, health and sickness, joy and grief, and now, the sunset years. Thank you, Letty!
1 While drafting this bio-sketch from August 20-22, 2012, I was gripped by the reality and suddenness of death. The plane of Secretary Jesse M. Robredo of the DILG had crashed into the waters of Masbate on Saturday, August 18. Massive search and rescue operations were led by President Benigno Aquino III. It ended with the retrieval of Sec. Robredo’s body on Tuesday morning, Aug. 21, 2012.