Dear 12D,
I’m not sure if any of you ever had fantasies about coming back to teach in Xavier… Anyone?
I did in a way… though not seriously. I thought about it like I imagined being a radio DJ or a barista — they seem like fun jobs but nothing I’d actually pursue. That’s the same sentiment I had for teaching. My teachers — Ms. Lopez, Mr. Gan, Mr. Maraña — they just made it look fun. In my senior year of college though, I didn’t even think about applying as a teacher.
But out of sheer circumstance, here I am.
Back then, there were three things I would imagine myself to be. First was that I’d be teaching English advanced. I always enjoyed my English classes — reading Neruda, Hemingway. And I was the best at grammar! As you know, that didn’t happen, but I got my second choice: I taught Filipino — pretty much the same thing but in a different language.
Second, I imagined being a club moderator. At times, it’d be Stage FX, which I of course am the moderator of now. But sometimes, not even… I’d think about taking over Stallion or Meta or the Spanish Club. I’d come up with all these crazy ideas of how to run them.
Third, I would think about becoming a class adviser… And out of sheer circumstance, haha, here I am.
As some of you know, I wasn’t supposed to be your class adviser. I was going to be the mentor of some class I wouldn’t even be teaching. But before the school year began, some wheels started spinning, and I was asked whether I wanted to be a class adviser. I thought back to my fantasy (a bucket list, if you will) and said yes.
I dunno… I always imagined it as the cool job. You come in in the morning, wake people up, share some short kuwentos, then you’re out. None of the acads stuff, the boring stuff. It’s like being the fun tito — you come in, play with your inaanak a bit, then leave before they start crying for food, for milk, for tuition fees.
Having become your class adviser though, I realized it wasn’t as simple as that.
For one thing, it was quite difficult actually getting to know you guys. Barely half of you are my students and you all already have your groups and barkadas. I wasn’t the cool tito — I was the new kid. It was like trying to make myself fit in with a group of people who were already close with each other. Add the fact that I only see you five minutes a day. Add the fact that I’m quite introverted. Boy, it was tough.
But I told myself, “Luis, ginusto mo ‘yan.”
So I didn’t give up. And I eventually learned a few things. For one, I was amazed and a little dumbfounded when I learned you guys automatically sat yourselves in alphabetical order — save for the barkada in the middle. I learned Luigi has a love-hate relationship with you guys as your class president. I learned that just because you have both Choco and Matthew O in your mentoring group, it doesn’t mean you’re going to win the parol-making contest. I learned that we have some pretty talented musicians in class — Trent, Gio, Mio, Theo… and then you have Ken. Can he sing? Eh, debatable.
Getting to know you guys was only the first part of the struggle. When I took the job on, I wasn’t aware of all these responsibilities I’d be taking on. Or well… I was aware, but I didn’t think it’d be a big thing. Oh boy, was I wrong.
I mean, coming to advisory period was itself a sacrifice. I am not a morning person. Really not. But I’d have to get up a little earlier to get to school a little earlier just to get to the classroom by 7:30 with some semblance of sanity. That was fine at the start when I was more motivated, but by the time rehearsals at night got later, by the the time the exams started piling up for checking, the struggle got more real. (Shout out to Ms. M for tolerating me!)
And that’s just one part. There are all the seemingly small things that pop up and actually take up more of your time than you expected. Like managing orders for class pictures — one moment you’re organizing the photos and the payments, the next, two hours have passed. There’s listing down announcements and reminders I shouldn’t forget to make. And of course, making sure you guys go to college. Iyon bang I’d have to chase after the registrar’s office just so that all your application requirements make it through. Or even spending a whole weekend with you guys in the fair booth.
It’s those little things that you have to rearrange, reprioritize in your life. And maybe the fact that you won’t always get greeted with the liveliest good mornings. They’ve made me question why I signed up for the job in the first place.
And so I’d go back to that fantasy. I’d try to remember what it is in my old class advisers that made me want the job. And honestly, for me, I was just happy that they were around. I was just happy that, in one way or another, there was this teacher I could share whatever with, this teacher who maybe actually cared without needing to.
Well… when I think of you guys, that feeling still holds. I just want to be there.
If you asked me before the fair if I wanted to be in that booth the whole weekend, I’d tell you I didn’t. There was this music festival I wanted to go to, and it just wasn’t possible for me to both attend and come out alive.* I was incarcerated to my fate in that jail booth — which you literally incarcerated me in, I might add. But if you asked me now if I’d have that weekend another way, I’d tell you no. It seems stupid, but no joke, I’d still choose to be in the booth with you guys.
Why exactly? Why this class exactly? I don’t really know. But somehow, being a part of your high school experience gives me some sort of fulfillment. And I thank you for that.
I can’t say I’m doing the best job at being your class adviser. But selfishly, I’m hoping that I’ve made an impact in your lives, even if it’s a small one. Hopefully, when you think back and reminisce on your time in Xavier, you’ll say, “ah, Mr. Marcelo… yeah, he was aight!”
As you move on to the next part of your lives, I’m hoping for all the best. Those who’ve shared they want to be doctors, architects, president, anything and everything: know that I’m rooting for you all the way.
And if any of you ever need someone to talk to over some coffee or some beer — any problems, achievements, anything at all — just send me a message. I’ll be there. I can’t promise I won’t be awkward or that I’ll be punctual, but I promise I’ll be a good listener — even if we haven’t really talked before and we’re not that close. I’ll listen.
I want every one of you to know that, even if you leave Xavier, even if you’re ending your senior year, I won’t stop being there. I’ll still be your class adviser.
This was delivered during our class retreat, i.e. the last time I saw my advisees before being whisked off to hospital land. Worth it? I’d think so. I wrote this over the course of the two retreat days, knowing I’d say something crappy if I left it to my non-existent extemporaneous speaking skills.
*Disclaimer: I still went to that music festival because YOLO.
