THE BLUE AND GOLD
by Cherry Bayle
Maryknoll High School Batch ’81 is characterized by many things – we are funny, witty, talented, eloquent, creative, artistic, attractive, and to each of us, unforgettable. We are queenly, yet quirky. We are “kalog”, not “burgis”, not “maarte”, ok, “kikay”, but in an adorable sort of way.
Could it be in what we ate? At the school cafeteria, where we lined up for chits and meal tickets, we were served beef stew and rice, omnipresent hotdogs, homemade spaghetti, the coveted Cow Label and Choco Vim, or Sunkist in tetra packs. On these long rows of benches and tables is where our zest for insatiable chatter was fortified. Where our appetite for communication, or daldalan, was brewed and simmered. Because of our cafeteria, where PE classes, volleyball tryouts, play rehearsals were also held, there are no quiet Maryknollers, just deep ones. As in a bench, during a championship game.
We so loved our teachers, we imitated them so well. “Tumunog na ang batingaw, hmmmmm.” Yet adored them, and called them “Miss”. They ‘entertained’ us, they educated us, yet their impressions and lessons stayed with us. Thus, we speak and write in impeccable Pilipino, imbibe Catholic values. Or learned to solve equations, though not necessarily, in Math. Like FLAMES.
We wore our green and beige uniform too short or too long, but we looked good in it, because we wore it with pride. And we were all easily 30 to 50 pounds lighter then. Our tan-colored socks were folded way down, inwards, to show hind bones in our ankles. We were either plain Janes in it. Or fashion plates. Shod in Gregg, of course. We rode cars, to and from the Maryknoll covered court and driveway, or in school buses where so many friendships were cast at 5am, sa unang nasundo, hanggang sa huling naihatid pauwi, at 7pm. Or 9pm, pag nasiraan si Mang Romy, our endearing bus driver back then.
We always laughed so hard and so loud, the bond among us, too strong to break. Our humor is our secret language, hard to decipher nor decode, if you’re an outsider. We learned to laugh at our mistakes, to lessen the embarrassment and accept that we can’t always get things right, before we learn it.
Through parties and soirees and proms, we met boys schooled from across the creek, and those near Manila’s cathedrals and historic churches, or near Unimart – some of us had boyfriends, or at least, we whispered and blushed about crushes, in between Algebra or Biology lectures, and some realized what Janis Ian affirmed in her song “At Seventeen” – “that love was meant for beauty queens and high school girls with clear-skin smiles, who married young and then retired …”.
We may have 'cheated' in surprise quizzes, a little, passed around notes, yes, for the thrill of it, about names and dates totally not part of the lesson plan, yet we studied for exams and term papers, stayed up and labored over projects. A lot of us are happy, compleat wives and moms now, while others are independent, fulfilled Titas and Ninangs.
Maryknoll girls always had a connection, with each other – whether from the same batch or batches lower or higher. We can easily spot each other, our hearts can tell a Maryknoller. As though there was a tracker in each of us, we just know, “Maryknoller ka”. Maybe because Maryknollers talk with confidence and certainty, and clarity, honed perhaps by English classes, or by talking, conversing, endlessly. Practice, after all, is the best route to perfection. We talk with so much animation. We can weave Tagalog words into our English sentences and seamlessly, not missing a beat. “Di ba, I told you? I was going to call you nga. I have kuwento for you.” We have fantastic “dicshen” and “pronunciashen”, or you don’t belong to our “associashen”. We can speak to anyone, as we could speak English and Tagalog with equal facility.
We did our homework yet excelled in dancing, singing, performing, drawing, writing or elocution. We donned CAT uniforms for some military training, model platoon, or not. With so much candor, and Cando, Cando, Cando, Cando. We fought and cheered at intramurals, with pride and fervor, on court or from the sidelines. Mahinhin kami, pero di mahiyain, at lalong hindi lampa. In our actions, and in our conviction.
We are feisty, it’s in our arsenal, when we need to be. Minsan, di mo alam na palaban ka hanggang may pinaglalaban ka. We are palaban, maybe not always to take our protest to the streets or to court, but to rebel against, and conquer, our own inner battles. To face the opponent, and or, disarm him, as we can speak with firepower, yet undeniable charm. Malalakas ang loob namin, because we were raised believing in ourselves, without flaunting it, just exhibiting grace and coolness under pressure.
We know how to pray, and oftentimes rely on our faith – as years and years of Maryknoll sisters’ presence taught us to praise, to thank, to surrender pain and hurt and fear, and guidance for NCEE or UPCAT, in prayer. We genuflected during masses, we wrote and read responsorial psalms, we took communion, and took confessions seriously. “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.” We were instilled with discipline, and bowed to authority and school policies.
Today, we affirm our sisterhood – nurtured and strengthened in our classrooms, immortalized in our yearly class pictures at those well-watered rock gardens, revisited in field trips to Calamba, Fort Santiago, and museums. We didn’t know then we were molded to turn out this way – confident, feisty, strong, and because we are happy – beautiful. Armed with a fair grasp of reality, we bridged gaps in social classes, as we were exposed to harsh realities, that an otherwise snobbish, upscale upbringing would have denied us.
We were brought up in Maryknoll to have a heart – for compassion, for courage, for a cause, for dreams, for unity, for class pride, for love. That we may pass on to women of the next generations what we have been blessed with – the choice to love life, and to live it with purpose and passion.
Maryknoll High School Batch ’81 is characterized by many things – we are funny, witty, talented, eloquent, creative, artistic, attractive, and to each of us, unforgettable. We are queenly, yet quirky. We are “kalog”, not “burgis”, not “maarte”, ok, “kikay”, but in an adorable sort of way.
Could it be in what we ate? At the school cafeteria, where we lined up for chits and meal tickets, we were served beef stew and rice, omnipresent hotdogs, homemade spaghetti, the coveted Cow Label and Choco Vim, or Sunkist in tetra packs. On these long rows of benches and tables is where our zest for insatiable chatter was fortified. Where our appetite for communication, or daldalan, was brewed and simmered. Because of our cafeteria, where PE classes, volleyball tryouts, play rehearsals were also held, there are no quiet Maryknollers, just deep ones. As in a bench, during a championship game.
We so loved our teachers, we imitated them so well. “Tumunog na ang batingaw, hmmmmm.” Yet adored them, and called them “Miss”. They ‘entertained’ us, they educated us, yet their impressions and lessons stayed with us. Thus, we speak and write in impeccable Pilipino, imbibe Catholic values. Or learned to solve equations, though not necessarily, in Math. Like FLAMES.
We wore our green and beige uniform too short or too long, but we looked good in it, because we wore it with pride. And we were all easily 30 to 50 pounds lighter then. Our tan-colored socks were folded way down, inwards, to show hind bones in our ankles. We were either plain Janes in it. Or fashion plates. Shod in Gregg, of course. We rode cars, to and from the Maryknoll covered court and driveway, or in school buses where so many friendships were cast at 5am, sa unang nasundo, hanggang sa huling naihatid pauwi, at 7pm. Or 9pm, pag nasiraan si Mang Romy, our endearing bus driver back then.
We always laughed so hard and so loud, the bond among us, too strong to break. Our humor is our secret language, hard to decipher nor decode, if you’re an outsider. We learned to laugh at our mistakes, to lessen the embarrassment and accept that we can’t always get things right, before we learn it.
Through parties and soirees and proms, we met boys schooled from across the creek, and those near Manila’s cathedrals and historic churches, or near Unimart – some of us had boyfriends, or at least, we whispered and blushed about crushes, in between Algebra or Biology lectures, and some realized what Janis Ian affirmed in her song “At Seventeen” – “that love was meant for beauty queens and high school girls with clear-skin smiles, who married young and then retired …”.
We may have 'cheated' in surprise quizzes, a little, passed around notes, yes, for the thrill of it, about names and dates totally not part of the lesson plan, yet we studied for exams and term papers, stayed up and labored over projects. A lot of us are happy, compleat wives and moms now, while others are independent, fulfilled Titas and Ninangs.
Maryknoll girls always had a connection, with each other – whether from the same batch or batches lower or higher. We can easily spot each other, our hearts can tell a Maryknoller. As though there was a tracker in each of us, we just know, “Maryknoller ka”. Maybe because Maryknollers talk with confidence and certainty, and clarity, honed perhaps by English classes, or by talking, conversing, endlessly. Practice, after all, is the best route to perfection. We talk with so much animation. We can weave Tagalog words into our English sentences and seamlessly, not missing a beat. “Di ba, I told you? I was going to call you nga. I have kuwento for you.” We have fantastic “dicshen” and “pronunciashen”, or you don’t belong to our “associashen”. We can speak to anyone, as we could speak English and Tagalog with equal facility.
We did our homework yet excelled in dancing, singing, performing, drawing, writing or elocution. We donned CAT uniforms for some military training, model platoon, or not. With so much candor, and Cando, Cando, Cando, Cando. We fought and cheered at intramurals, with pride and fervor, on court or from the sidelines. Mahinhin kami, pero di mahiyain, at lalong hindi lampa. In our actions, and in our conviction.
We are feisty, it’s in our arsenal, when we need to be. Minsan, di mo alam na palaban ka hanggang may pinaglalaban ka. We are palaban, maybe not always to take our protest to the streets or to court, but to rebel against, and conquer, our own inner battles. To face the opponent, and or, disarm him, as we can speak with firepower, yet undeniable charm. Malalakas ang loob namin, because we were raised believing in ourselves, without flaunting it, just exhibiting grace and coolness under pressure.
We know how to pray, and oftentimes rely on our faith – as years and years of Maryknoll sisters’ presence taught us to praise, to thank, to surrender pain and hurt and fear, and guidance for NCEE or UPCAT, in prayer. We genuflected during masses, we wrote and read responsorial psalms, we took communion, and took confessions seriously. “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.” We were instilled with discipline, and bowed to authority and school policies.
Today, we affirm our sisterhood – nurtured and strengthened in our classrooms, immortalized in our yearly class pictures at those well-watered rock gardens, revisited in field trips to Calamba, Fort Santiago, and museums. We didn’t know then we were molded to turn out this way – confident, feisty, strong, and because we are happy – beautiful. Armed with a fair grasp of reality, we bridged gaps in social classes, as we were exposed to harsh realities, that an otherwise snobbish, upscale upbringing would have denied us.
We were brought up in Maryknoll to have a heart – for compassion, for courage, for a cause, for dreams, for unity, for class pride, for love. That we may pass on to women of the next generations what we have been blessed with – the choice to love life, and to live it with purpose and passion.
We are Proud. We are Batch '81
Maryknoll College High School Batch 1981
Katipunan, Quezon City, Philippines
email mchs1981directory@gmail.com
Maryknoll College High School Batch 1981
Katipunan, Quezon City, Philippines
email mchs1981directory@gmail.com