An online student – in his mid-70s
Every living organism is a single cell, or has been, once upon a time, a cell. (Implication: A virus is neither a cell nor living.)
That lesson was taught me years ago by three zoology instructors in the former Department of Zoology of the now-splintered College of Arts and Sciences of the University of the Philippines Diliman. With their kind indulgence, I name them: Virginia Samson-Cariño, Gloria L. Enriquez, and Rafael D. Guerrero III.
Though that era seems a millennium ago, these three, with PhDs since, continue to teach me online. Doctor Cariño (in Baler Street, Quezon City), Dr. Glo E. Ongchangco (Florida, USA), and Doctor Guerrero III (Bay, Laguna). May I add that I am also regularly in touch with my classmates Remedios and Annabelle (both in QC), and even a high school classmate, Imelda (in Long Island, New York). I do my homework (messaging) on a laptop which sadly has seen better days.
My teachers and classmates and I talk about life and living organisms. We are in the twilight of our lives, and we neither cuss nor tell tall tales or dreams of jet skiing. We are always aware of norms of morality, our mortality, and our morbidities.
My generation cowed in fear from just being told that any wayward foul-mouthed student would be sent to the office of the school principal or the guidance counselor. There were no military officers around, retired or otherwise, to impose discipline. There were only the ubiquitous Boy Scouts, Cub Scouts, Girl Scouts, and Greenies who served as exemplary paragons of youth exuberance and innocence.
My student days were all in public schools in tough neighborhoods in venerable Manila: the districts of Sta. Cruz, Sta. Mesa, and Sampaloc. Arellano High School, which could have been the largest secondary school in the country, was along the boundary of Sta. Cruz and Tondo, the breeding ground of neighborhood toughies and junkies. None of my classmates, even casually or offhandedly, spoke gutter language.
Arellano High was literally a stone’s throw away from Azcarraga (now known as C.M. Recto) along which there was a wet market where exotic food was served with student meals, and several funerarias and moviehouses.
Galaxy theater along Avenida Rizal showed the Cecille B. De Mille epic “The Ten Commandments,” which took something like 10 hours. That time included first lining up for movie tickets that extended to Doroteo Jose, then going home, and coming back days later for the actual viewing which ran for about three hours.
“Thou shall not covet thy neighbor’s goods.” Presently the Tenth Commandment applies to fish in the West Philippine Sea, billions of taxpayers’ money, and coronavirus vaccines from the Asia mainland.
The grounds of Malacañang then were open around Christmas to let us waifs in for gift-giving. There were no PSG looking over our shoulders. In the Sampaloc district where I grew up hawking magazines for fun, Catholic schools were considered as sacred grounds and learning institutions: San Sebastian College and Sta. Catalina School, and along Mendiola Street toward Malacañang were San Beda College, La Consolacion College, School of Holy Spirit, and Centro Escolar University. There was no swearing in Tagalog heard in these Catholic schools, including the all-male San Beda College.
Anyare?
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Augustus C. Mamaril is a proud alumnus of government schools: Pio del Pilar Elementary School, Dr. Alejandro Albert Elementary School, and Arellano High School. He took up zoology (1962-1966) at the University of the Philippines Diliman, and later attended three foreign universities. His schooling was funded all the way by government institutions for which he and his family are forever grateful; maybe he has somehow paid back by serving UP for a half-century, cut short in March 2020 by the lockdown.
