It was a warm August morning, my 8 year-old self was supposed to wake up to a blue-purple sky, but I was a stubborn student and I didn’t really like going to school. My mother, like a drill, bombarded me with a LOT of vulgar things because I was morbidly difficult to wake up. I opened my eyes to a sea full of foam while the heartfelt heat of sun rays shunned my eyes. My morning started with three people waiting for me: first was my mother who was already fuming because I woke up late, second was my brother because we had a service and we went to school together, and third was our service who was already outside of our house for half an hour. On our way to school, I always observed all the things that I see on the trip; I saw construction workers bathing on the side of the road preparing too for the day, I laughed at the old man who was carefully walking with his cane because he tripped and fell for he tried to kick an empty can, and I was always curious of the pink burned house that we passed by daily. I did not really look forward to the day, but I was thankful that I get to share an experience with the people’s lives on the highway every time I glare at them for a second. As we got into the school, the guard, who was always grumpy every day, still greeted us a good morning and waved at our service when we entered the big yellow steel entrance of the school. My brother and I hurriedly rushed to the gymnasium because we were almost late for the morning assembly. Thankfully, we got there just in time. 

After the assembly, we all went to our designated classrooms because the classes were about to start. Our first subject was SIBIKA and was taught by Ma’am Lerma. She always had this distinct style that was common but different at the same time, she wore this seashell necklace and her uniform was always almost sparkling. Ma’am Lerma was always proud and I constantly looked up to her lioness charm. She walked inside the classroom feeling really confident, her hair was breezing like a curtain in a stormy night, her posture chinned up and made teaching look effortless, and her aura like a feral beast ready to pounce at its prey. She was one of the essences of my day that I always looked forward to because, despite how tall she is, her eyes never looked down on us with pride and arrogance. To break the ice inside the classroom, Ma’am Lerma thought of a game that will test the masculinity of an all-boys school. She wanted to test how elegant and mighty our stance in line is. To give additional context, when we fall in line, our arms must always be folded and our steps as a class must be synchronized. She made us stand up from our rusty, old, badly painted brown armchairs and made us do our line stance. When said the number one, all of us should lean forward with our arms folded and feet together, when she said the number 2, all of us should slightly incline our back but still leaned forward, when she said the number 3, all of us should do our normal line stance, and when she said the number 4, we should go all out on our line stance and clench every muscle we could clench in order to prove our masculinity to each other, as well as to Ma’am Lerma. This was a core memory because I remember my classmates and I trying to one up each other every time we heard the number 4 from her. The classroom was suddenly filled with joyous laughter from children, it was like a birthday party but there was only one adult who was chaperoning us. At the peak of the game, we all looked like laughing big wild sugar cane grass dancing to the song that the wind was singing, and it was really a welcoming invite to the day. 

This is a very important memory for me because for the first time in my whole ADHD childhood life, I actually felt competitive about something. I felt the heat of consciously trying to be better than someone else and I felt the fire that was coursing through my whole body because of the innocent focus I invested in the game. I think the funniest part in this sentiment is that Ma’am Lerma probably does not even remember that she made us play this harmless game.

She did not get to hear the words “Thank You” from me for the drive she introduced to me that, even to this day, I am still carrying. It is a shame that I never made the time to share a talk with her back then when I already had achievements that I can be proud of. Ma’am Lerma Arador will always have a part in my past, present, and future achievements for she was one of the few teachers who genuinely molded the man that I am today.

May her soul rest in peace.