Four Score and Counting

The milieu was World War II, another conflict to be noted as one to end all wars.   It was December of 1941, and already the threatening dark clouds of global war  were wafting through the Pacific.  What was needed was an incendiary spark  to light up the entire planet.

It came on the morning on the 7th of the same month.  The blistering early-morning attack on Pearl Harbor by Japan ignited the Pacific region where the US had a very commanding presence, the Philippines being one of them.

Thus, without delay Philippine residents all the way down to the island of Mindanao went on "evacuation" mode, fearing  similar surprise attacks by Japan against US forces. In a week or so, my family and the rest of my father's family had quickly hied to their well-hidden haven in the hills, in the place called Taguanao.

Three weeks after Pearl Harbor I would be born under such trying conditions.  It is related that the family had to send people to the town, maybe including even my father, by horseback to engage the services of the family doctor, in the cover of dawn. To stealthily ride into a city that had now largely been shuttered and deserted.

Now we know that conflagration raged like wild fire for many years, at great sacrifices of men and material.

Thus, 80 years ago, I came into this world very inauspiciously, with everybody else focused on and mindful of the ongoing war.

Four score is a long time to reckon and take account.  

But we all try our best to justify our continued existence, and assess our relative worth as stewards to this blessed land of God.  And hope that our continued living is justified.

                                                  000000000000000000000000000

My own thought for the day lent to the written word:

                                

                                     A LESSON IN LIFE

The greatest gifts we can give are neither touched nor fondled.  

Neither wrapped nor bundled.

Because of their very nature, neither get tarnished nor soiled.

Neither diminished nor roiled.

Beyond the grasp of ashen being, they endure time and space.

And the vagaries of petty human caprice.

Transcending puny aspirations, rising to eventual rapture.

Which bring nods of assent of our Creator.

They are the unnoticed deeds we churn out daily in solitude.

Hoping for a change in our attitude.

Attempting to leave the world a little godly than we entered it.

A consummation, we devoutly wish it.

Memoirs of a High School Instructor

 

           Frs. Campbell, Quirke, and O'Donnell  (Taken from FB timeline of  Ramoncito Cruz)

                                                    

The year was 1965, and I was just completing  the academic requirements for my 2nd undergraduate degree.  BTW, the old pictures attached would be about the same year, 1965.

Time to look for a permanent job, I said to myself chomping at the bit to challenge what I had learned so far.  And at 24 years of age, the time was more than ripe.

Alignment came easily.  I broached the idea to my then regular  counselor, Fr. Paul D. Campbell, who found the idea feasible.  He was of course, a very a close ally of the HS principal, Fr. James O'Donnell, being the HS Student Counsellor.  In no time, I was sent to the office of Fr. O'Donnell for the possible job of an instructor and class moderator.

But a little flashback.

Returning back to the old hometown with an undergraduate degree after an absence of over 3 years, I had decided to go back to school tormented by the uneasy feeling that my preparation then had been inadequate.  And this was starting to be a maturing phase of my existence when I begun to realize not only the gravity but also the profundity of life, my life, which at that time was characterized with mercurial aimlessness.

Time to get serious, I told myself.  And indeed the following years blossomed into a life of purpose and a pervading feeling of a  deep sense of mission.  And looking back my academic accomplishments appeared to echo that.

I had developed the habit of not only of going into intense daily prayers and devotionals, but also of going to daily Mass early in the morning.  I went typically to the XU chapel which was quite close to our house, and whose ambience was a good fit for my purposes.  These I did with almost single-minded devotion, almost unaware of the things happening around me.

Till one morning as I was leaving the chapel lost in my religious fervor, I heard a salutation coming from the entrance of the chapel.  Coming from a white-frocked man with a very deep voice.  After the good mornings, he asked about me and my name which he easily connected to a younger brother who was in high school and thus under him.

I did not know then, but he was Fr. Campbell and thus would start our association until I left the school completely years later.  I treasure memories of many visits to his office, with riveting conversations at times getting deep into the evenings, like when the school lights had already been turned off.  I could say that those unforgettable times were most helpful to me during my perilous journey through life.  Many thanks to Fr. Campbell for that.

Anyway, my initial interview with Fr. O'Donnell  was short and sweet, and when I left his office I was already preparing myself to be an instructor of several unrelated subjects, to a fresh bunch of 1st-year highschoolers. And that I would be moderator for the assigned class.

Our next immediate step was for me and a close friend, Berchmans Abejuela, to be sent to Ateneo de Manila to attend some orientation classes for teachers like us, and to spend a couple of days during the weekend.  And this we both did without any hitch or complaint.  For me that would be the only formal  orientation I would get to begin the arduous task of teaching.

I did not then really know much about Fr. O'Donnell and his stint as principal.  Of course, certain unavoidable elements preceded him.  His huge physical presence, a very deep cadenced manner of speaking.  And more importantly, as a strict disciplinarian and a devoted stickler to rules and regulations.  And lastly, as quite frugal with idle conversations.

Knowing and keeping that in mind, our relationship pretty much was my trying to avoid as much contact with him as possible, though making sure I crossed all the Ts and dotted all the Is when it came to school work.  I pretty much followed that religiously since I do not recall any incident when I had to bring up with him  any school problem involving my kids, or the other way around.

And Fr. O'Donnell was quite true to the reputation that preceded him.   I had thought that he was as packaged by people. Except it was coming only from people I knew then.  Because much later I would hear from others a quite different side of him.  Almost a completely new portrayal of the man I had known and left then.

When the school year begun, the heady honeymoon period that usually goes  with new endeavors quickly wore off for me, finding for myself the growing difficulties of teaching  inscrutable adolescents, who were just starting to flex their unsteady wings every which way at the world that they have just woke up to.  This would show in my physical appearance which would be  aggravated by my problematic thyroids.  By the time the school year had ended I had lost over 20 pounds and was reduced to a haggard and ragged figure.  I felt I needed  time to myself to recover and refocus.

Thus  my short stint as high school instructor ended as quickly as it started.  But coming out enriched by one abiding lesson.  Teaching is no easy job, one that not only required  tons of knowledge but more importantly tons of dedication and patience.  Thus, found a new sense of admiration and value for those who spend long years in the profession of teaching.  A profession for the selected few.