It was more than twenty years since that colourful graduation day in the Barrio Intermediate School. During those years completing the seventh year course was indeed a real achievement’ not so many could complete the seven years course for many reasons.
Many would start late in the primary grades and by the time they would reach the intermediate,
they would be fifteen years old. In the barrio reaching fifteen was the time to help the parents in the farm, male or female. In many instances, the females would get married and they would therefore quit classes. Some families would move to another town, and the children in school had to quit and move with them. Schooling to many farmers was secondary to their livelihood and for a good reason during those years.
“Who would be our guest speaker?” asked one of the graduating members of a small class in the Barrio Elementary School.
“The Municipal Mayor, I heard from one of our teachers”, replied the other.
So, the graduation was held in the open auditorium in front of the main building of the school. A wooden stage was prepared, with colourful buntings all around. Pots with coloured flowers were lined along the way to the stage, as chairs were placed for the guests and the members of the graduating class. Out of the fifty who started the class, only twenty-two remained, for as mentioned, there were many losses for one reason or another.
There were the speeches, the awarding of medals, and finally the distribution of the certificates. The Mayor together with the principal of the school distributed the documents, and shakes the hands of the passing member as she or he passed through the line. There were clappings, cheers and even open crying of parents.
“No one would forget the valedictory address of Marcial Diaz, son of a vegetable farmer by the river”, mused Islaw, a classmate. “His emotion-packed speech written by him was doubtless, a manifestation of his inherent brilliance.”
“We all agree. Since the early years, he always topped the class. He deserved it. Marcial can have a good future ahead of him”, remarked Enchong.
After graduation, Marcial, the top man of the class left with his parents to another province. No one heard from him since he left the barrio. Most of those who graduated joined their folks in the farm, or in business ventures in the local market or stores.
Those coming from the middle and upper layers in social status went to high school in the provincial capital, or in some other urban centers. You could never tell where the graduates would eventually be say, in five or ten years.
Through letters, grapevines and friends, the members of that class were able to know or get in touch with each other, although no one ever put in a log or journal of the whereabouts.
“Say, where is Lino now?” a classmate would blurt out to a classmate although both of them were in the barrio.
“Wendy heard from Enchong that Lino is in Manila working in a big factory”, would be the Tino’s reply.
“How many children does Martha have now?” would be another query.
“She has five children now, and truth to tell, she married Milo, one of our classmates. They are farming in Sitio Pala-pala and are doing fine”, related the other classmate during their casual meeting.
So, time moved on in an unnoticeable tempo as the members of that class lived their own lives, in and out of the barrio.
During a graduation rite that year, some of the members of that class had children already in the line up. There had been a great change in the ages of the graduates they were much younger than their parents in the years past. Many were finishing the elementary at age twelve to fourteen, at most…. Parents of some graduates finished the intermediate at twenty.
During that time, a class that graduated five years ago had a reunion to coincide with the rites. It was a great joyful affair, and attendance was about ninety percent. That affair triggered among the graduates of the class twenty years ago to have a reunion, to coincide with the town fiesta in the middle of May, so that it would be two months to notify and locate the members. Much more, the town fiesta would serve also a time for homecoming or visit for the residents of the town.
By contact, letters, tienda talks, couriers, and other means of communication. The class graduated twenty years ago would have a class reunion in the main school building. The school principal, who at that time was a new fledgling teacher, took a hand and so with the town mayor who at that time was only a barrio councilman.
Then the big day came. The teacher-in-charge was early to arrive, and so with the other interested people. For the first time, the graduates two decades ago would congregate for a big reunion.
By nine o’clock, many of those graduates from the town came. Many of them brought their better halves, their children and a few had even grandchildren. Falling within the thirty-five to forty-five brackets in age, they could be considered within the middle aged levels. Of course, about ten had died of various causes, but their wives or husbands came too, for that would be an occasion seldom to come to the town.
“Hello, Doc”, greeted Enchong as he met one of his classmates who became a doctor in the capital. Enchong did not pursue his studies, but went to business which he somewhat prospered.
“I’m glad someone thought of our reunion. Not that I became a professional, but I am indeed gratified to have a reason to come home and visit my relatives, friends and my former classmates like you”, replied the medical doctor.
“Attorney Agustin, you look find and young”, greeted the teacher as Attorney Agustin, who became a practising lawyer arrived in his car with his family.
“Is there a good response among the class members?” asked the good lawyer.
“I would think so. Any alumnus upon learning of your get together will surely try his best to come”, replied the teacher.
As the guests arrived, food also came courtesy of the alumni and other people who thought the idea of having a reunion was indeed commendable. Fun was the word and everyone was having the time of their life.
When everybody was seated, the teacher-in-charge stood up on the temporary wooden stage, and signalled everyone to stand and sing the national anthem, with the accompaniment of the local band, one of whom was the band master, a member of the class.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, Today we celebrate the homecoming of a class that graduated two decades ago. Of the forty five members, ten had passed the great beyond, and may their souls rest in peace. However, among those who left us and who got married, their respective spouses are here with us true to the loyalty to their alma mater.” This was followed by loud applause among the big crowd.
“To us, all the graduates are a success in their respective lines. Whether they became lawyers, doctors, engineers, or simply farmers or merchants, or plain housewives caring for their children, they are successful in their pursuits of happiness, satisfaction, identity and contentment.
“So, again, I welcome you all. Enjoy yourselves, and there is no need for introduction, Thank you all”. This ended the short talk of the teacher-in-charge of the homecoming event.
There was animated conversation among the graduates. Regardless of occupational or professional work, the camaraderie of the yesteryears returned. For once, they became children again.
“Say, where is our class valedictorian?” Where is Marcial Diaz, our brightest classmate?” inquired Mitring who became a town policeman.
The group members of the class looked at each other. Many shook their heads acknowledging no information about him.
“After graduation, Marcial became involved in a certain movement in the far-flung areas which he said they were championing for the cause of the farmers and other labour groups. From that time on, he seldom appeared”, replied another classmate who was a neighbour of the class valedictorian.
“Where can he be now?” queried another classmate.
“Fellow Classmates, announced Sergio who became a military officer. Since you want to know about Marcial, I will tell you” he continued. From his pocket, he pulled out a piece of paper with the picture of many people with a bold statement that these men were all wanted by the government with huge prices on their heads. As the group hurried glimpse on what the military officer brought, among the pictures of the wanted communist leaders was their brightest classmate, Marcial Diaz, Politburo leader.