High school was a confusing stage in my life. Adolescent yet not an adult, and yet too old to be a child. I was plucked from a comfortable existence in a private, Catholic school and plunked into the humiliation (so I thought then) of a "public" school. Typical of an insensitive teenager, I did not realize that my parents could not really afford to continue sending me to an expensive private school. And so I bitterly resented being forced to take the entrance exams. To express my extreme dissatisfaction with the way things were going, I didn't really give it my best shot. In fact, at one point I may even have considered failing it, but somehow I couldn't quite stomach failure as well. And so I was utterly flabbergasted when I did pass and was taken in.
And so I had to uproot myself from my elementary school (without even the benefit of a proper goodbye) and commute from San Juan to Katipunan every day. First, I had to take a jeep ride to go to EDSA and there wait for the buses going to UP (JD, DM, CAM, Yujuico) which came at unpredictable intervals. Fortunately, their depot was near where Shoppersville is and I was able to alight just in front of the UPHigh gate. The alternative route was via Cubao, then a jeep going to Marikina, and then a jeep again at Katipunan going to UP. And so for 4 years, my lungs were slowly poisoned by the noxious fumes from all sorts of vehicles, the cigarette smoke of the passenger next to me and the countless exhalations and halitoses (not to mention "putok" especially during SRO) of fellow travellers going to their classes or jobs. The worst was during the rainy season when all the windows of the bus were closed shut and there was no fresh air flowing in.
The only saving grace, to my mind, was that this public school had "Girls"! In elementary (at San Beda) we had been all boys and always found the presence and company of the opposite sex both unnerving and tantalizing. And so, like a rooster sent into a gaggle of hens, I quickly decided to go about "ruling the roost". Little did I know that this would land me into a mess of trouble and controversy which would scar me for life.
My first day at UPHS was a Monday, and so there was the traditional flag ceremony. This was the first time I saw the other students and my fellow Freshmen. I remember noting that the ones who came from UP Elem were more self-assured and boisterous than the "newcomers". But of course, the most self-confident ones were the Seniors -- those veterans who had reached the pinnacle of high school life -- and we looked at them with awe and something akin to fear. In fact, I realized later, the level of "yabang" was directly proportional to the number of years one had been with the high school. We were at the bottom of the totem pole and had to behave as such.
It's a bit difficult to remember events that happened almost 30 years ago (memory frays and it becomes difficult to distinguish between fact, fiction and embellishment), but I think the Freshmen were told to remain after the Flag Ceremony for a "getting to know you" activity. That's where I made my first and biggest blunder. When it was my turn to introduce myself, I proudly announced my name, what school I came from and the fact that I graduated with "6 medals: 2 gold, 2 silver and 2 bronze." Over the years, looking back, I still shudder and wonder why I ever did that. But the cat was out of the bag and I was never really able to live down that brash announcement.
Oblivious to the scorn of my classmates (talagang manhid at that time), I went
about making my presence felt. I joined a number of organizations and won the
presidency of the Freshman Council. On hindsight, I believe it was fortuitous that
I thought nothing of the "6 medals" stigma, because it reinforced in my mind my
superiority and spurred me on to become very active in extra-curricular activities,
as well as student government. I had been very active extra-curricularly in the
elementary and I felt in my element in UPHigh. Over the years, I would tend to
gravitate towards positions of leadership, and it was only with much difficulty
that I was able to curb my exceeding conceit.
Freshman Council, 1969-70, Edgardo T. Vencio, President
Ed as representative to the Student Council
Ed in the Chess Club
Coming from an exclusive Catholic school, I was in for a rude awakening.
UPHigh was so different...so...pedestrian! I guess the biggest culture shock
during my first year of high school had to have been Practical Arts. I thought
then that this was a misnomer because I really felt that what I learned in this
subject had to be the height of impracticality! Actually, the crafts and gardening
were okay, it was taking care of the pig that really got to me. The boys, you see,
all had to take up Practical Arts, while the girls learned Home Economics
(sexism and women's lib had not yet gained a foothold then). Part of the boys'
course requirement was to take care of a white Landrace pig.
Cristy just outside her pigpen*
This entailed coming in early in the morning (if your group was assigned) to bathe
the pig (her name was Cristy), clean her pen and feed her a mixture of mash (darak) and corn grits. Cristy was a scrawny, slobbering and greedy pig who couldn't wait to be fed and poked her dirty nose into our clean uniforms! We always knew which group was assigned for the morning duty because they carried a strong whiff of 'Eau de Cristy' (a musky and slightly pungent aroma with a whiff of rotten leftovers and pig shit) when they came into the classroom. But of course the boys didn't talk about it because we all had to go through it. The girls probably thought this was simply part of normal masculine pheromones and luxuriated in its heady aroma.
I remember we endured this for a little over a year and then one morning we suddenly found that we had been set free! Shortly after the satrt of our Sophomore year, (we still had Practical Arts!) Cristy was found with glazed eyes and foaming mouth, quite certainly and stiffly dead. She had apparently been poisoned! Mr. Diaz (the Practical Arts teacher) was livid. He had such grand plans for Cristy. She had just been serviced by a 'barako' and he was looking forward to at least a dozen little piglets. What he failed to realize was that the idea of a dozen little pigs appalled even those of us with strong stomachs because this meant multiplying by 12 the hardships and indignities that we had to suffer! (For the details on how this came about, it would be better to ask Willy Pacheco. His group was the last to see Cristy alive. We knew who done it though none of us squealed.)
But we digress because I had wanted to talk about the "girls". I found them fascinating and exasperating at the same time. Fascinating because they were all sorts and shapes and sizes. I remember one big issue then was skirt length. You could tell who were conservative or liberated by skirt length. Below the knee? Mid-thigh? Dangerously close to Up There? Many an afternoon was spent by the boys watching the girls walk by along the corridor between the 2nd and 3rd Pav (at certain times of the year, this happened to be the windiest spot on campus). Cheap thrills, particularly since most of them wore bermuda shorts underneath their skirts anyway! Despite this, we went through elaborate lengths to determine the color of the day. The most devious was a piece of mirror wedged on top of one's shoe which was carefully positioned underneath the ...
Of course, I studied, too. Since I had taken Grade 7, I found that most of the subjects were a reprise of what I had already learned. This helped me to excel quite easily and I believe I topped the class that year. However, I never was able to do this again as my classmates quickly became smarter than me. I also became more and more obssessed with extra-curricular activities (much to the dismay of my father), to the detriment of my studies. But I guess this was largely the reason that I can look back at high school and say that I had a lot of fun.
From Day 1 I had a conviction that not only was I the greatest student, but that my classmates were also better than everybody else and that we were destined for great things. And since we were better than all the other years, we had to do things better than anyone else. This was the motivation behind the Freshmen Trip to Baguio, a feat which has never been duplicated by any other batch (I think).
Gigi Buendia and Roy Villareal at Mines View Park
Imagine: almost the whole Freshman class going on a trip to Baguio with only a few teachers as chaperones! I remember I had to really work hard to convince Mrs. Pineda (the Principal then) to allow us to go. Ostensibly, the purpose of the trip was educational: we were going to tour Binga Dam. The normal objections arose: What if something happened? Why not go to some place nearer? etc. I don't remember how we finally convinced her, but go we did. We went to Burnham Park, Mines View, Session Road, Camp John Hay and Binga Dam (the only legitimate educational part of the trip). During our free times, we went boating, riding, seeing the sights, walking. We had a bonfire of real pine logs (which we found out later belonged to somebody and so I had to placate an irate owner.) There was also no hot water in the shower rooms and so every morning we yelled at the top of our lungs as the ice cold water hit our shivering bodies.
(L-R) Abet Buban, Nicky Villasenor, Roy Villareal, Mrs. Judith Pambid and Angel Mateo at Binga
It was only much later that I realized what a big risk we had indeed taken with that trip. Aside from the dangers inherent in the long travel, there was also the possibility that surging adolescent hormones would find expression in certain creative ways. Thankfully, if anything did happen (who knows?) none bore "fruit" and we safely returned in one piece (as far as I know anyway). Some did get caught smoking, but what the heck, some of the accompanying teachers did, too. But our reputation as achievers had been made. The rest of the school was green with envy at the Freshmen. Why, not even the high and mighty Seniors had even gone any farther than Balara! (Actually, this might be an exaggeration, but we certainly felt on top of the world then.)
The Freshman year was also the start of the Regulation Haircut. I remember mug shots of me being taken (front, side and back views) in order to model the accepted hairstyle. I was white sidewall then (remember, I was the epitome of the model student -- translation: El Maximo Nerdo.) Since long hair was the ultimate in freedom of expression, especially for teenagers, this was greeted with a lot of derision by the male population. It certainly did not endear me to my classmates. Actually, I had nothing to do with it. It just so happened that I was the most visible short-haired guy in the campus. After a while though, the administration gave up in frustration because everyone continued to sport long hair.
Wanted Dead or Alive
Aside from long hair, the administration also tried for a time to control pant widths. Tight pants were still the rage then. They were so tight it was sometimes difficult to even walk or sit in them. No wonder we were incessantly standing and moving around. Sitting down placed such tremendous pressure on certain blood-rich parts. (So it was with much relief that we greeted the arrival of, first, the straight cut, the flare and then the bell-bottom pants...more on this some other time.)
One of the things which I also took for granted was the fact that I was in the so-called 'Star Section' (I-A under Prof. dela Cruz). I did not realize until much later that for many of my batchmates, being in or out of the Star Section meant a big deal. I don't think any of us realized that we were an elite until one of the teachers inadvertently slipped. Apparently, those who ranked high in the entrance tests or who had high grades in the elementary had been segregated into that one class. From then on, our other batchmates treated us distantly and we were not quite in on most of the forbidden (but eminently enjoyable) goings-on of the other sections. We had our own share of happenings and mis-happenings though. Not quite as outrageous as the other sections' shenanigans, but hey, we were cultured whilst they were crass.
About midway into the year, the teachers realized that the "A, B, C and D" designations used for the sections was inducing traumatic reactions and having demoralizing effects on some students and they decided to use the homeroom number instead. This really did not fool anyone because the Star Section remained basically intact. The other sections were ruthlessly dismembered and the cream of the crop were transferred over to I-208, which everyone knew was the Star Section! Thereafter, we were more or less intact for the whole of the 4 years, and so there was much bonding that happened.
A unique tradition I was introduced to in first year was the Arbor Day (or 'Do' Day). I never really figured out which was the official name -- in fact I often wondered just what exactly was meant by "do". It certainly had nothing to do (pardon the pun) with that passionate and often strenuous activity engaged in by couples (married or living in sin). We were too young for that! During this once a year event, we had no class for a day (or was it done on a Saturday?) and students and teachers alike cut the grass, trimmed the bushes and gardened around the buildings. It was an interesting challenge to be able to do nothing, but give the impression that one had done something. But since we were young and impressionable (read: uto-uto), we ended up putting in a lot of hard work. In our first year, the Senior decided to try doing a 4 Saturday Do-Days. After the first one, there was declining interest and we increasingly sat back and persuaded others (especially our teachers) to do it for us. I don't think they ever really caught on...
Our Freshman year was also marked with a number of showbiz events, i.e., activities which showcased our singing, dancing and acting talents. And this is where we excelled, particularly our classmates in the other sections. And so there was the Music and Dance Fest, the "Strike 3, Out". The latter featured a fashion show with song and dance numbers by different groups. I remember the big hit was Chiqui Hollmann's Hawaiian dance number. From then on it seems our batch developed a fixation for Chiqui's belly button and we always tried to convince her to do a hula number at the flimsiest excuse.
I also remember being lead actor in a drama presentation. None of the Seniors were willing to be humiliated, so they shopped around the recent crop of gullible Freshmen and found...me! My role was a bachelor who needed a wife quickly in order to inherit a lot of money. To make the long story short, Leslie Villanueva -- my very masculine roommate -- impersonated my wife. I believe it was his (her?) marvellous acting (at least I think he was only acting) which brought the house down.
Actually, I was very much impressed by the Seniors of my Freshman year. They had quite a number of significant projects and accomplishments. Their yearbook (Clarion '70) was to serve as an inspiring model for our very own Tagnian. (Of course, I can objectively say that ours is better. Ahem...)
Meals and snacks at UPHigh were also quite unique and memorable. My favorites were the banana que and Blitz Torte sa Multi. The canteen also had quite memorable characters: Aling Lou (who had 4.5 pregnancies the whole time I was in high school), Mang Kid (who peered at us from behind glasses which must have been an inch thick!). But the really exotic stuff were to be found in Buban's Store across the road. This was where one could 'yosi' as much as he wanted, or imbibe all manner of non-toxic though intoxicating beverages. I tried going there once or twice, but I found it was not my scene. Most of the local UPHS toughs ('as-tig'), used it as a hang-out. Not a few petty fights and harsh words were exchanged there, which were quickly patched up under the benevolent glare of Abet's mom.
The Freshman year was also significant to me personally because that was the first time I saw the girl whom I would woo and eventually marry. I was into psychic phenomena then and I remember telling Ronnie Ranoa (we were sitting beside each other at the back row of Ms. de Villa's English class) that I had a strong premonition about a certain girl and I pointed her out. I didn't know why, and I certainly didn't know her at all then, but I was certain she was the girl for me. If you don't know who she is then you don't deserve to be a member of UPHigh '73.
Talking about classrooms, I distinctly remember our homeroom under Mrs. dela Cruz. We were in Room 208 at the 2nd Pav (all the other Freshmen had homerooms on the 1st Pav). At that time, she was already quite old, and we sometimes wondered whether she would succumb to a heart attack if we even dared to misbehave. When things got noisy and out of hand, I remember Mrs. dela Cruz just standing quietly near one side of the room looking stern and angry. Pretty soon, we would notice and the noise would simmer down. It always amazed me that she did not even need to shout or raise her voice even once. I suppose it was because all of us in the Star Section were inherently 'mabait' (di ba Ma'am?) Maybe it was also because we were scared she would have a stroke if we didn't quiet down.
But underneath that stern exterior was a very warm and caring person who, much to our surprise, was patient with us and helped us adjust to the new environment which was the high school. There were some sticky moments, but none stand out over the haze of 30 years of accumulated memories.
Oh, well, I really must be getting old...
Note on the pig picture. The pigpen is for real. It is the actual pigpen existing
in UPIS right now. The pig is a stray created by Photoshop. :-)
