My days at UST

The message sent through the Startalk office stated that my former school was nominating me for an award. That was the first piece of good news I heard this 2010.

But which school was this since I went to so many — including Underwood Business Institute where us four kids were made to spend at least one summer in late high school polishing our typing skills. That was one fruitful phase of my then young life. Not only did I learn how to type — touch system (I’m pounding on my laptop right now with my eyes closed) — I also mastered the rather tricky art of commuting then since the school was in the very innards of the university belt and no one among my siblings (I’m the youngest and the most oppressed) who were already driving cared enough to bring me there — given the traffic in Claro M. Recto.

There were also these little schools abroad I attended where I had to memorize notes in between stacking canned goods in a commissary to be able to pay for rent and buy myself a decent meal at least twice a day. But I doubt if those educational institutions would still bother with me many years later.

Could it be that makeshift classroom my equally bored playmates and I put up in the storeroom of our old house a year before kindergarten? That’s not possible since that very site was eventually turned into a bathroom for the help. I can’t imagine attending a reunion and accepting an award in what is now a toilet.

The answer came when I spoke to Teddy Perena, organizer of the AB Gantimpala Awards of the Royal Pontifical University of Santo Tomas — or simply UST. I was made to submit my curriculum vitae — the first time I had to type one — and that was easy because there really wasn’t much to put there. I later discovered that the CV was used eventually as research material to make a profile on each of the awardees.

But Professor Nenet Galang, who put together a glossy and informative souvenir program, needed more info from each one of us. She wanted us to look back and recount our memories of school life.

It was only then that it dawned on me how I didn’t really spend much time on campus — and that explains why to this day, I am the only Thomasian who doesn’t have memories of floods within the school grounds.

Established in 1611, this educational institution was initially located within the confines of Intramuros. In 1927, the Dominicans bought the present España, Manila campus, which was part of the vast Sulucan estate. Today, that entire UST block is priced at trillions of pesos — regardless whether it’s high tide or low tide. (Soon to rise are UST campuses in Sta. Rosa, Laguna and even in General Santos City.)

But where were the floods when I was there? Scraping the bottom of my memory bank, I now realize that I was in various locations during the time I was pursuing my journalism degree. Nanette Dyco, who was my professor for four semesters, was always so busy (she eventually became vice president of J. Walter Thompson) she liked combining classes and we had to follow her at the Ateneo grounds in Katipunan.

Also, when we were made to do on-the-job training, I went to TV Times (under the supervision of Melinda Quintos de Jesus and, later, Nila Tupaz) and the magazine decided to absorb me right after I was done with my practicum.

I thought that arrangement was strange because, while Mrs. Dyco went over my schoolwork, I pored over galleys of her writings since she was one of the columnists of TV Times (then already in its dying years).

While I learned the basic rules of editing manuscripts in TV Times, my journalism mentors in UST taught me how to write. And so there was Ramon Francisco teaching us news reporting — how to compose your lead paragraph. There was also Rina Jimenez David telling me how to observe transitions — or how your paragraphs should connect.

Outside of the classroom, I didn’t really spend much time doing extra-curricular activities and I don’t recall joining school organizations — not even trying out for The Varsitarian, the UST paper that became a training ground for a lot of journalists in this country from way back.

In literature class one afternoon, however — and this I was told later – Prof. Piedad Rosales noticed how I could project my voice and had me cast as a shepherd in Mag Cruz Hatol’s production of Oedipus Rex. Later, they put me in a lot of Brechtian productions — none of which I understood (not even my part) because I only joined those plays as an excuse to skip classes.

Strangely enough, doors kept opening for me. One day toward Christmas vacation, I didn’t prepare for a Psychology quiz and I asked that I be excused because there was a Spanish oratorical contest being conducted in the auditorium next door. The oddest thing was that I ended up representing the College of Arts & Letters in the university-wide Spanish oratorical contest. What did I get myself into?

I spent the entire Yuletide break memorizing Altivez, a piece written by Fernando Ma. Guerrero and was trained by no less than the great poet’s descendants, Majela and Corintha Barranco in their Retiro home. I only had less than three weeks to prepare and ended up third and I was very happy since I wasn’t expecting much — given the fact that it all started because I merely wanted a way out of a Psycho test.

It didn’t end there. During the contest, we were unaware that the faculty was casting for roles in a Spanish play called Hipotecas y Amnesia, a detective love story. Other roles came my way and in exchange for that, I didn’t have to attend my Spanish classes anymore — which I regret and am now on the lookout for tutors in the Castilian tongue.

Now, don’t even think that I was given all those plays because I was a great actor. I never was and never will be. I will always be a ham — maybe a delicious one, but a ham just the same. I only got cast in those parts because I was born with good lungs and my voice was loud enough to be heard by everyone even outside of the hall in those pre-lapel mic days.

But even then, I already had this get-it-over-and-done-with attitude and never savored those moments.

Lucky for me, I was able to return to the UST stage to accept that little token recently, courtesy of the alumni association (other awardees from this paper were vice president for advertising Lucien Dy Tioco and sports editor Lito Tacujan). This time I made sure I enjoyed that brief minute or two standing before the audience while being photographed with that handsome glass trophy.

To my school, it may have taken me quite a while to come back, but all these years I’ve always tried — repeat, tried — to hang on to those Christian values taught to me by my alma mater. I can never thank enough the people of this school for helping shape a phase of my life to turn me into what I am today.

Now, you know who’s partly to blame.