By Lcid Crescent Fernandez
About 20+ years ago when I was still little Lcid, my mom and I were finishing up groceries at Atrium mall. Back then, they used to have this bazaar set-up in between the two escalators, right in front of the groceries. I passed by this tiny red plastic toy that was probably supposed to be a Gundam (I didn’t know what Gundam was at the time), and I badgered my mom to get it for me.
This was our exchange (in Hiligaynon):
“Ma, please get me this toy please please please.”
“No, we don’t have the money.”
“But it’s only 10 pesos!”
“Do you have 10 pesos?”
“….no.”
“Then we don’t have the money.”
Then already the lifelong educator that she is today, my mom taught me a lesson I would have to constantly re-learn the rest of my life. Later, it would become the “himakas” lecture. In Hiligaynon, himakas means “to struggle”. She told me it was a lesson her mom, my grammy, taught her. If we wanted something, it would always taste all the more sweeter if we acquired it through our own himakas. Outside of my earliest memories of her teaching me to read and write, this might be the lesson that stuck with me the most from Toni Fernandez, the teacher.
Being as it’s graduation season, I write this column in dedication to some of the teachers I’ve had over the years who had the most impact on making me the person I am today.
To Ma’am Violeta, our English teacher in Grade 1. Back in the early elementary days, we had “star sections” where all the brightest kids were grouped together to be taught. In Grade 1, that section was Ma’am Violeta’s advisory class. My mom took me to her room and she crouched down, “Scent, you’re not supposed to be in this section, but Ma’am Violeta and I had a conversation about having you in this section so I need you to work hard to prove that you belong, ok?”
“Yes, Ma.”
As with all first days of school, we had our roll call and Ma’am Violeta called the name of everyone in the room except mine. In the system, my name wasn’t part of her advisory class. I didn’t belong. This is the earliest memory I have where I felt shame. I was transferred to another advisory class, but I remember Ma’am Violeta came to me before I left, telling me that it’s not about being in the star section. It was about how hard you worked. I worked so hard in her class because I believed in what she and my mom told me, and because I felt their belief in me. A year later, I was recruited to join the school paper as a 2nd Grader. I don’t remember joining but I remember thinking about how I could not enter a room of people my age a year ago, and now I was being invited to join a group of people older than me.
To Sir H, in High School, who cut me no slack in working with me to be a more well-rounded person.
To Sir Joyner, in the US, who taught me there is joy in the work regardless of grades, and reignited the fun in school for me.
To Sir I, our professor in College, who said four words when he told me I was going to be the team captain for a national marketing competition: “no more wasted potential.”
To Kobe Bryant, for showing me that hard work wasn’t about outperforming those around you but holding yourself to your own standards; and you wouldn’t set such low standards for yourself.
To Judge Bellones in law school, who left me small notes that reminded me of my own mother in my test booklets. You reignited my love for the law and helped me to feel that all my effort was not wasted.
“It takes a village to raise a child.” I know that now more than ever, especially since it took a village to teach me this one lesson that my mom had repeated throughout my life. And this I repeat to all the graduates in 2022 as well: Himakas.
