thosewerethedays

This article likewise appear in our Golden Anniversary Website

Fare ye well, my Alma Mater,

Dear teachers, farewell you'll hear;

Our last days have come to lead us far,

Far away from thee my love.

Onward we go to distant isles,

In quest of fuller life of hope;

Let me sing this last refrain,

To check these tears of joy and pain.

I hear thee call,

I will be gone...

Farewell to all.

We are the graduates of the Class of ’55, and this was our graduation song. The simple words and melody, composed by music teacher Mr. Gonzalo G. Ocampo, still has meaning.

Our beloved Alma Mater Pampanga High School (PHS) and its teachers have given us (graduates) many memories to contemplate as students. Though the end of the 1955 school year was a heavy and bittersweet parting, we continue to regard our school years in high esteem.

These memories began to take shape in those early days before the sixth-grade graduates left their intermediate schools in 1951. "My Heart Cries for You” was heartily hummed. The "Loveliest Night of the Year” was played during that night of graduation, foreshadowing the imminent new challenge, a rite of passage into higher education and learning...Welcome to Pampanga High School.

There were students who were fortunate to have visited the high school premises during the two-month summer vacation before class registration. Tall grasses blanketed the landscape; the unattended sweet violets and other flowering plants were in full bloom, surrounded by weeds waiting to be cared for. Further back from the building and huts were vegetable plants drying in the sun and neglected fowls and chicken running wild. What a sight to visit the "Mockin’ Bird Hill"! And, oh, the scent of the afternoon breeze whirled around and under the narra tree, one of the prominent places our memories were born.

At the start of the class season, a swarm of more than 1100 enrollees showed up for registration with the anticipation of higher challenges and great expectations of meeting new and fresh faces of both classmates and teachers. The class, packed-full of students of different ages, was the then-largest enrollment ever in the post-war history of the PHS.

Over the next four years, the class carried on through ups and downs and trying times, but found itself more prepared for future endeavors as the generation gained a leaner and fuller life.

“Remember When”…

First order of the day: Mr. Fajardo, one of the vocational courses teachers, standing tall of a Texan height and built and sporting a large rectangular belt buckle inscribed with NU (National University), corralled students and non-students alike to cut the tufted, grassy field to make way for the playground. All enthusiastically participated and did their share.

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Mr. Malang, whose charisma could fill a room without saying a word, silently listening to Mr. Gantioque along with Mr. Rivera instructing the class on how duroc jerseys to multiply in the horticulture, poultry and swine department.

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One day, Ms. Mary Dimalanta (English Literature) sent a couple of students to the library to look up the meaning of a word. In the hallway, Principal Jose Reyes asked them where they were going during class hours, so they explained their assignment. The principal gave them the meaning of the word and the students returned to class.

The class did not have a dictionary. During the first half of the ‘50s after liberation, books were scarce and the publishing houses were behind in printing. Even the Goodwill Book Store was not well stocked of books and other reading materials. Thanks to Emil (Miling) Gozun for his generosity by “sincerely” sharing his books with others; I for one appreciate it. “Little Things Mean a Lot.”

Ms. Dimalanta had a perfectly round golf ball-sized pebble that she used to call the class to attention. She never did toss it to anyone found sleeping.

Ms. Arce’s version of commanding students’ attention was by snapping her fingers, otherwise be prepared!

****

Protacio and myself, and others, walked toward the Quonset huts wearing silver dime-decorated moccasins and Rory Calhoun belt buckles at the back of our trousers. We met up with Doet and her company sporting ponytails, wearing the current fashion of poodle skirts, balloon shoulder pads, bobby socks and black-and-white canvas sneakers. Patti’s “Tennessee Waltz” was barely, but noticeably, audible, playing in the distance somewhere. ****

Mr. Cabrera (Calisthenics) had just come back from the States. One sweltering day he was seen fanning himself with a heart shaped nipa fan and said, “Pull up those things, it’s too hot,” meaning the girls wearing balloon bloomers should pull them up just above the knees. Afterward, the girls rushed to the perennial well at the inner court to get a sip of water to quench their thirst. There came Ben Bascara, as always, mooching for a quartered piece of paper for a drinking cup or for a daily quiz, according to Fending Fausto, the not-so-great joker of his time.

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The Student Canteen along the boulevard was waited by the owner, Lita Pasion, and frequented during recess and after the PMT drills and formation. A jukebox was in the corner of the ice cream parlor where Nat’s “Unforgettable” was playing.

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At the Retail Merchandizing, under the watchful eyes of Mr. Musngi, Amelia Supan was making and selling expensive 10-centavo sandwiches made of a beef and potato mix. A good practice in doing business and accounting procedure.

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Beneath the school on the “ground” floor, adjacent to Mr. P. Quizon’s Art Appreciation class where Marciano David was a top-notched artist, the aroma of lunches wrapped with banana leaves was so inviting. “Zing, zing, zoom, zoom, my little heart goes boom.”

****

After a lunch, Pat Guevara, Nick Navarro, and I were seated side-by-side along a bench-type table upstairs in the Biology class headed by Ms. Mercedes Bondoc. Everyone wondered who will be asked to recite the homework first. Everyone’s eyes were on her and her exquisite, cute dimpled smile. Tony Roxas always had the favors. “If I Give My Heart to You, Will You Handle It with Care?”

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Mr. Negro Monte Mario, oops… Mario and Apung Disio were acting as mail carriers while making the place spic and span.

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Apu, with her husband Sr. Soriano, came along and greeted the class with “Buenos Dias”, and she recited the Ultima Adios in perfect Spanish, before their upcoming retirements.

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Our appreciation goes to Tet (Alex) Alejandro for crafting the wooden rifles of Ruben Pineda and Antero Baluyut, used for the PMT under MJP Junior.

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One August afternoon, Linda, the school beauty, drenched under the rain, was wading in knee-deep water. “I’m Walking Behind You,” and offered her an umbrella, but she refused it and said, “She’ll Walk Alone,” enjoying the splash of water.

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Kiko Dizon’s trademark was a brownish Esterbrook pen, with a rectangular tip caused by over-usage. It somehow lasted for almost three years. I had one, and both our pens had our names inscribed on them.

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Ms. Cuyugan (Math), told Arquilao Cortez, the class mathematician, to stay behind to teach her next incoming class.

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Ms Dimalanta was always hosting afternoon coffee and San Nicolas. I was asked to buy the bread in Angeles, because Apung Gari did not carry the delicacy.

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A month before graduation, Governor Rafael Lazatin was getting a haircut, and he told my father there was a clerical position opening at the Capitol for me. I was not proficient in typing and shorthand like Tony Roxas. So I took a refresher in typing and stenography at the Pampanga Secretarial School, owned by Justice, a ‘55er and Cicero, a Class ’54 who became the Provincial Vice Governor. Some of the students at the PSS were ‘55ers.

After completing the two-month accelerated courses, Mr. Esmong Punzalan hired me to teach instead. I taught typewriting and stenography for a year at the PSS and left for college in Manila in pursuit of business courses, majoring in Accounting.

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High school life is the most memorable chapter among the higher fields of education; it is a place where everyone stayed together for four long years.

Now is the time to reminisce with the “Moments to Remember,” the memories of long bygone times. It is impossible to put all of our memories in writing. Welcome home to taste once again the lost moments five decades ago from our Alma Mater, the Pampanga High School.

“Hi-lili, hi-lili, -lo.”

Highlights of Zenaida Borja's HS Days

Beauty on display

This is an article of a 55’ver from Virginia, USA. His memories of his high school days appears to have left an indelible mark in his consciousness. The people are vividly portrayed, events so eloquently described and feelings fondly expressed. Only a die-hard ’55 is capable of feeling this way.