The Teacher

General Tiburcio De Leon National High School

Time to Fly

Written By: Maria Theda D. Lim - Secondary School Teacher

My thoughts were wandering as the oncologist left us in the hospital private room. Mom was asleep; she was given a dose of morphine by the nurse upon the order of Dr. Cortez. The parting words of this cancer specialist continued to haunt me as she went to the next room where her other patient waited.
“Ada, you know that it’s already stage 4 colon cancer. Right now, we can only help her by administering pain killers, all we can give her is palliative care”, Dr. Cortez explained a few minutes ago.
Palliative Care. That was a lesson that we had in Science and Health way back in college. I knew what it meant. The disease can no longer be cured and the only thing that can be done is to ease the pain.
I can’t remember how long we stayed at the hospital, but I gained so many friends who somehow made me feel at home even if the smell of disinfectant permeates the surroundings most of the time. I visited the nurses’ station most of the time and the utility personnel were friendly as well.
The last talk my mother and I had was very casual. I didn’t realize that it would be the last, the last chance to make her feel that I was there for her all the time. No goodbyes, no parting words, just plain, ordinary talk between a mother and a daughter.
“Ada, what is stopping you from leading a wonderful life?” My mother asked out of the blue while I was arranging her pillows.
“Ma, what makes you think that I have a miserable life? “ I answered with rolling eyes that would remind you of Mr. Bean, the comic actor.
“I didn’t say miserable, I only mean “not wonderful”, she answered back as if she didn’t feel any pain at that moment.
“Then what makes you think that I’m not having a wonderful life?” I asked again.
“The eyes are the windows of the soul. I can feel it, I can sense it in your eyes. You are afraid. As a child, you were always scared. And now that you’re old enough, you’re still afraid of taking chances. You shut the door  even without looking of who’s knocking, you let go of so many opportunities,” she continued.
“I’m afraid of failure Ma“, the words seemed to come out unconsciously.
“How can you say that you will fail unless you try something? Look at me, I have lived a full life, I have taken risks most of the time, I failed many times but I never stopped doing things I want to do even at this age. I’m the only 73-year-old citizen who sings and dances like a teenager, right? “, she said with a smile.
“But you’re different. You are pretty, smart, talented and everybody loves you”, I hugged her tightly.
“I love you, we all love you, and you don’t feel it because you don’t want to come out of your shell. Time to spread your wings and get the most out of life. Will you please play “Bohemian Rhapsody” while I sleep? Please get my CD player,” she requested.
Where on earth can you find a 73 year-old mother whose favorite song is sung by a rock band? And it served as her lullaby.
The next morning the angels took her and in my heart I could still feel the warmth of our last conversation. She was thinking of me, she was trying to help. No sad goodbyes, just an ordinary talk that made me see things in a different light. Time to prepare my wings.

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Trusting God’s Plan

By: Theda Lim

The Junior Class at Radames High was about to begin when all of a sudden, a group of students started throwing crumpled sheets of paper right on the face of the class snail, as he was called. Mario was always late in class, never submitted home works on time and considered as the dullest boy in the whole batch. That was the reason why the term “class snail” was coined by the naughty pack.
The teasing only stopped when a woman entered the room and stood in front of the class.
“Good morning, class. I am Ms. Sevilla and I’ll take over this class since your adviser Mrs. Lacanilao is on maternity leave of absence”, the soft spoken lady informed the group. “Good morning, Ma’am!” the students greeted back.
Ms. Sevilla started to post her visual aids on the board and the lesson began. They were going to discuss the short story “God Sees the Truth, But Waits” by Leo Tolstoy. The whole class started to read and after fifteen minutes, discussion followed. After the discussion, the students were grouped into five. Each group was tasked to talk about how they would relate the story in their own lives.
Mario was grouped together with the five naughty pack of students who bullied him most of the time.
Ms. Sevilla assigned Mario to be the first speaker in the group. He hesitated for a while because he saw the wide grin on the faces of his group mates who always made fun of him.
“Mario, why don’t you tell your group mates how you connect the story discussed in your own life?”, Ms. Sevilla suggested. There was complete silence as Mario started to talk.
“Five years ago, my father left us, my mother and two siblings were dumped by the person who was supposed to take care of us. I was ten years old then, my younger siblings were aged three and one respectively”, he narrated. “My mother is the strongest person I’ve known on earth. She would wash clothes the whole morning and iron them at night. She would ask the homeowners of a nearby subdivision to let her wash their clothes for P200. I used to ask God why it had to happen to my mother. She was God-fearing and prayerful and she never missed the Sunday mass. One night, as I was staring at her while she was ironing the clothes, I asked her the same question. She lovingly looked at me and said, Mario, what we are experiencing now is a part of life but the important thing is that we are together, you are the strength of your sisters, so never ask why, just trust God. He knows the right time for everything”.
“I’m sure that God sees our sufferings, but I’m also sure that he has a perfect plan for my family. I know I’m always late in class because I have to look after my siblings while my mother goes to the nearby subdivision to get the laundry and I can’t keep up with my home works because I have to cook dinner and take care of my sisters while my mother irons the clothes at night”, he continued.
The naughty pack remained silent. Their lips were sealed and no one moved as if lightning struck that very moment. Ms. Sevilla gave Mario a hug and the rest of the group did the same thing.

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No More Ketchup Meals

Author: Theda Lim

“Ketchup please, Louie”, the smart kid from a TV commercial in the 90’s requested. The family members were shown sharing a meal together and they seemed to be a perfect bunch of happy blood related creatures who couldn’t finish their food without ketchup.

My ketchup memory was quite different. Every detail remained vividly marked on my mind and the faded pages of my childhood slowly came back.

“Cielo, help your sister set the table. The steamed rice is ready. Your father will be here in a few minutes”, mother muttered without looking at me.Her concentration was deeply centered on my costume she was sewing for the school program.

“Nay, we only have rice for dinner. Are we all on a diet?” I asked sarcastically. My mother only glanced at me and continued with what she was doing. I was ten years old then and most of the time; she would simply ignore me when I asked senseless questions.

Soon my father arrived and he looked so pale and sad. He was almost dragging his feet as he entered the house. He looked at my mother, then he took notice of the table set for dinner.

“I’m sorry. On my way to the market, I met Pareng Randy and he asked if I wanted to watch a “tupada” in his backyard. He said that his gamecock was asure winner because it was well-trained in a cockfighting arena in Pangasinan. He boasted that I could double my money if I bet on his cock”, my father narrated.

“You don’t have to finish your story. I know what happened next“, mother replied coldly.

“Ellen, bring out the ketchup. Let’s eat now, it’s almost 8 pm.,” she calmly sat on her chair.

“What are we supposed to do with ketchup?” my eyes gazed with wonder at my parents.

My sister Ellen tapped my left foot under the table. I knew what it meant.

Before bedtime, my father gently knocked at the door of the small room my sister and I shared. He hesitated to enter for a moment.

“Come in, Tatay.Cielo and I have time to listen if you have something to say,” my sister uttered

My father stayed at the door and there were only two words that came out of his mouth.

“I’m sorry,” he said in a low tone.

It’s okay,Tatay! Ketchup tasted sweet anyway. I got up from bed and I held his hand tightly. He then went back to his room after he kissed me good night.

My sister and I shared the same bed and I couldn’t help but stared at her since I had a question in mind.

“Go on, Cielo. Ask your question now because I’m sure you won’t let me sleep with that intriguing look in your eyes”,  she glared at me.

“ Ate, we could have simply  asked for a can of sardines in AlingPacita”s sari-sari store. She’s my godmother, right? Mother could pay her later when we have money. Why did we all have ketchup for dinner instead?” I demanded.

“ Sometimes, people need to suffer the consequences of their actions. You know what, tatayis  a good man and Nanay knows  that. But when he gets impulsive, he forgets about things that truly matter,” Ate Ellen explained.

“ Nanay and Tatay are so different with our neighbors.  My friend Dayang once told me that every time her parents fight, plates , cups and glasses come flying everywhere and her mother loses her voice because of constant nagging,” I chuckled as I told her the story.

“ Yes, I know that. Nanay is different. She deliberately let us have ketchup for dinner and did you notice Tatay’s reaction? He could not stand seeing us having ketchup on top of rice,” Ate Ellen replied.

“ Well, probably next time, let’s try Mang Tomas lechon sauce instead.It tastes better, right?” My remark made my sister burst into a contagious laugh.