Accidents happen

[av_textblock size=” font_color=” color=” av-desktop-hide=” av-medium-hide=” av-small-hide=” av-mini-hide=” av-medium-font-size=” av-small-font-size=” av-mini-font-size=”]

[/av_textblock]

[av_one_full first min_height=” vertical_alignment=” space=” custom_margin=” margin=’0px’ padding=’0px’ border=” border_color=” radius=’0px’ background_color=” src=” background_position=’top left’ background_repeat=’no-repeat’ animation=”]

[av_heading heading=’Accidents happen’ tag=’h3′ style=’blockquote modern-quote’ size=” subheading_active=’subheading_below’ subheading_size=’15’ padding=’10’ color=” custom_font=” av-medium-font-size-title=” av-small-font-size-title=” av-mini-font-size-title=” av-medium-font-size=” av-small-font-size=” av-mini-font-size=” admin_preview_bg=”]
BY JUN ESCALONA
[/av_heading]

[av_textblock size=” font_color=” color=” av-medium-font-size=” av-small-font-size=” av-mini-font-size=” admin_preview_bg=”]
January 14, 2018
[/av_textblock]

[av_textblock size=” font_color=” color=” av-medium-font-size=” av-small-font-size=” av-mini-font-size=” admin_preview_bg=”]
ACCIDENTS do happen, sometimes in the most indeterminate of times.

Allow me to start this exposition about accidents with a short anecdote.

A young girl was eating her meals when a padre came.

“Kaon ta, Padre,” she said, “Wara garing dapli.”

“Kamaan kaw mag-Amay Namon?” asked the padre.

“Huod eh! Amay namon nga ara sa langit hatagan mo kami nyan sang kan-on namon….”

“Ah, amo gali nga wara kaw dapli, kulang pangamuyo mo, kan-on lang ginpangayo mo…”

This joke was not a homily of a man of God who celebrated Mass to start the 6th Alumni Reunion at the Sta. Justa National School a few days before Christmas Day.

It never failed to elicit laughter, but laughter not at the essence of prayer but at the inadequate translation of the Scriptures.

But that is not about to render my story to the sidelines because as a former teacher in the school before it became the Sta. Justa National High School I had a very unforgettable experience with some of our students then.

Upon arrival at the school with a friend, I intended to watch a little, incognito, but my friend could not resist the temptation and introduced me to Mr. Absalon, the school principal.

And so I was decorated with what looked like a necklace by a pretty young thing, then showed to a seat for guests. I am amused, but I wasn’t dragged, just held by the hand to make sure I can’t escape (joke).

The next happenings were very eventful. Yes, eventful in the sense that I had the chance to meet some students of mine in the past. Worth mentioning here was Mr. Sanny Patricio, who stands out not because of his height but because of performance in school then, and now in the community. He was the first to greet me just as I was seated.

After the Holy Mass, I walked up to where he was and saw there were only three lady alumni with him. Class 1975 was the last advisory I had before my transfer to the provincial government.

As we were conversing, some four lady alumni, probably from later years, paraded before us laughing and giggling, muttering greetings, rendering me speechless; I don’t know what to say. Overwhelmed by emotion, I was offered a seat and some drinks by a lass and then the award, a Certificate of Recognition, this after decades of my leaving the school. Because with youth comes dynamism and it came with the young and intelligent, Mr. Absalon, the school head, and the organizers of the event, we were recognized. I say it best when I say no more, but thank you!

After what seemed an eternity of nostalgic reminiscing, we left for Bugtong Bato Falls, a famous landmark, a tourist destination actually, in the mountains of Tuno, Tibiao, Antique.

Talking about accidents, we need not stray far. The first accident was about how we got to teach in a secondary school.

I accidentally passed a government examination for secondary teachers. I considered it an accident since our degree was not in Education but in Journalism. A Bachelor of Arts degree in Journalism was a popular preparatory Law course at the University of San Agustin in those days. Yes, I had plans to pursue a Law degree that would entail four more years in Law proper.

Call it an accident or not, but family resources had dwindled after a brother and three sisters in college, with two more behind me.

After about a year, I was transferred to Tibiao, at the Sta. Justa Junior High. That’s how I got to teach in my hometown.

While jubilant about my transfer, I was not very glad about my assignments. I was given the impossible subjects to teach. I accepted reluctantly the following subjects: Biology,  Science and an English subject . But I wondered why they had to include Philippine Problems, when curriculum planners then knew for a fact that Martial Law was the worst problem in those days. And Spanish, too, que horror!

In a way that was an experience I can never forget. I also taught Preparatory Military Training to third and fourth year students. One most important problem to me and I never liked was lesson planning, and I was caught by my superiors without a lesson plan, several times. Quite amusing that there I was, a writer by training, but disliked writing lesson plans. I wished they had kicked me out of teaching. But something happened.

We can never tell what the future holds for us and that we have no control of destiny so we keep on hoping that we are on the right course of our lives.

The world keeps on changing because the only constant in life is change, so we keep hoping that change, if it comes, would be for the better, or will turn out in our favor. If it does not, then we tend to resist change.

And change did come when then governor Evelio Javier was looking for one who can write and can publish journals. I learned of this through a relative, Miss Carmen Fe Bandong, and a former classmate since primary to high school, Mrs. Anna Española Amerila, a Fulbright scholar. I should know because I am not even half as bright.

That was a change I could not resist, so I made my interest known to the governor. It took more than a month to know that I was accepted, as Information Officer, a member of the Provincial Development Staff, since they are in need of a writer.

By then they were in the thick of PCP’ing, short for Provincial Comprehensive Planning.  So there I was, escaping from lesson planning only to land in the similar field development planning. At least it sounded like a hyperbole but what the heck, it was a change anyway. That was in 1975.

Then later I was plucked from technical writing to conceptualizing projects for the province. The governor assigned me to put on paper his concepts about the Binirayan Festival, a frame of reference for Antiqueños, and then the Antique Upland Development Program. Then many more programs were put on paper.

It was not easy to be me those days. I had to ignore the envy of friends and foes alike, but that was all there is to life. Perhaps due to the small perks that come with the job, or the recognition of achievement.

Now I am comfortable with the recognition from my beloved school, which had a full four years of my time as secondary teacher./PN
[/av_textblock]

[/av_one_full]