Ah, reunions!
The last time I attended one of our grand high school reunions was seven years ago. In between though, some of our classmates and batchmates organize pocket reunions every time someone takes a vacation here from abroad.
Last January 27, they had it held at the Thomasian Alumni Center Grand Ballroom at the University of Santo Tomas, our alma mater. It was our 45th. I didn’t attend though because I avoid sleeping late nowadays. Back in August last year, some members of the group organizers came over to visit me.
This morning, I saw this photo on my news feed at Facebook which was shared by one of our batchmates. It was the last one I attended.
I am the one in the middle of the photo.
In all the several batches of graduates from our school, ours (Batch 73) is always well-represented. Maybe because we value the friendship and camaraderie we have created throughout the years. I remember those times during our high school days where we have to go up to the fourth floor of our building, no elevators aloud. All girl students attend the morning classes while the boys are scheduled in the afternoon. That was how strict UST was back then. We are only allowed to mingle with them when there are occasions in school that we celebrate together.
Many of us have now our own families, some with lots of grand kids already and a few remained single. Some have become doctors, lawyers and nurses. I think half of us are now residing abroad. I could still imagine myself wearing a below-the-knee school uniform which some of us managed to fold at the waist line to make it a little shorter. We usually do it on our way home as long as the school principal couldn’t see us.
I remember our high school teachers. Our teacher in our Chemistry class was fond of singing Carpenters songs. another one in our Speech subject would always tell us to get one-fourth sheet of paper so she could dictate new words every time she enters our room. I remember some of our unruly classmates who are so noisy in between periods. I remember those times we would walk the corridor from one end to the next memorizing a piece of poem or a declamation piece. I still remember some paragraphs in Vengeance Is Not Ours, It’s God’s. But this is all I could vividly remember:
Alms, alms, alms. Spare me a piece of bread. Spare me your mercy. I am a child so young, so thin, and so ragged. Why are you staring at me? With my eyes I cannot see but I know that you are all staring at me. Why are you whispering to one another? Why? Do you know my mother? Do you know my father? Did you know me five years ago?
High school life – the day you saw your crush, the days you admired that guy playing the guitar and singing James Taylor’s songs, the day of our high school graduation where we cried.
High school days, the teenage years. the growing up stage in our lives.
Dreams And Escapes 
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