(The piece
below was written for the official coffee table book in commemoration of the Centennial
Founding Anniversary of my high school alma mater – Iloilo Central Commercial
High School (ICCHS), now renamed Hua Siong College of Iloilo.)
The French have a term for having the right word to express
something. They call it “mot juste” –
“exact word” – the embodiment of the proverbial tip of one’s tongue. And that,
I suppose, is precisely what defining Hua Siong is anything but. There are no
exact words to define an institution that has stood ground for a venerable century,
the spectator of a brutal war, a cruel fire, the iconic rise and fall of
democracy, the advent of a new millennium. There are no exact words to describe
her generations of alumni, the motley lot who have flown out of her nest and
affirmed themselves as citizens of the world. Most importantly, there are no
exact words to gauge her tradition of excellence, stalwartly championed and
peerlessly untarnished even after a hundred years of existence.
To
speak of Hua Siong merely as a place where I received my kindergarten,
elementary and high school education would be a glaring understatement. In
fact, the correspondence borders on being pied-a-terre, a second home. My
grandfather, the late Gregorio Yu Sr., was Chairman of the Board of Trustees
sometime in the 1980s, the bony but big-hearted old man who juggled official
duties in between introducing his toddler grandson to colleagues in school. That
scene, I believe, fondly remains etched in perpetual wisdom: Toothless gums and
a generous smile, crisps of red and gold crepe paper, a battalion of studentry
cheering their hearts out as an entourage of distinguished guests entered the
pearly red gates. So goes the funny anecdote that I was mistaken for one of the
guests, and was even dubbed the progenitor of the mythical Shaolin with my
nearly-shaven head!
Hua
Siong was certainly privy to my formative years in life, bearing witness as I
reached milestone after milestone. As a wide-eyed preschooler, I cavorted with
a lovely peacock dancer from China and portrayed someone else’s little son in a
play. These eventually paved the way for more ample opportunities and
achievements. My thirteen-year stay in ICCHS allowed me to expand horizons and
harness hidden talents – joining interschool competitions, assuming the
editorship of The Chain, being part of the historic Constitutional Commission,
giving politics a shot during my stint as City Mayor of Rotary Club’s Boys and
Girls Week.
I sometimes look back and wonder how these years had truly
been an incomparable experience. More than simply being overwhelmed with a
soaring, sweeping sense of nostalgia, our Hua Siong education stretched far
beyond the confines of the measly four walls of the classroom. We recall her
rallying motto of “Diligence, Sincerity, Loyalty, Courage” – the unseen
conscience that pervaded everyone’s hearts and minds, the much-respected
reminder to give it your all, do what is right, stick to your side, and face
the music without fear. As if somehow breathing life to the slogan itself,
activities inside Hua Siong translated to service personified: We took required
scouting subjects in the elementary grades, went through the “hok bu” system from first to third year
high school, and had regular CAT instruction in fourth year high school, the emphasis
on discipline and industry rubbing off quite handsomely.
The enormity of this outstanding legacy goes on further to include
the awareness of a dual heritage, as only the second oldest Chinese school in
the Philippines can. We left Hua Siong enlightened persons with a heightened
social consciousness, courtesy of an intensive Chinese, English, and Filipino
curriculum that highlighted Buwan Ng Wika as much as the Mid-Autumn Festival.
What took place was even more significant: the seamless integration of Chinese
and Filipino values that guided us to our rightful place under the sun. We
learned the invaluable ropes and the myriad highs and lows that came with being
at the crossroads of two equally rich cultures, exposing and enabling us to
appreciate a culture that is uniquely Chinese-Filipino.
Our celebration of Hua Siong’s centennial means saluting
the sterling individuals who have selflessly played a crucial role in the
school’s robust existence – from a fledgling barely holding her own in 1912 to
a defiant bastion of anti-Japanese resistance, razed to the ground in the 1966
fire and reborn from the ashes, cruising onwards to meet the challenges of the
21st century. In particular, we honor our teachers, the unsung heroes
of the classroom, relentless warriors in the crusade against ignorance and
indifference. I remember most vividly the late Mr. Ty Eng Liong, hailed as one
of the best Chinese teachers of all time. Out of the corner of my mind’s eye
there he stood, the gentle giant greeting students at the gate during dismissal
time, his stature a fitting semblance to his reputation as a noteworthy pillar
of Hua Siong.
With the auspices of time, these pillars have only grown stronger,
taller, and sturdier, and the school transformed into a gleaming oasis of
pedagogy with a spanking new building, a swanky elevator, and a sea of
unfamiliar faces. But looking beyond this pristine exterior, I shall always
choose to see the Hua Siong I knew and loved, the enduring vestiges of
yesteryears quietly tugging at the senses and the catacombs of memory lane:
Peeking hues of rusting red-and-white paint, strict bespectacled teachers
roaming the corridors, black-and-white computer screens that evolved in sync
with my journey from youngster to teenager.
In the same way, I would quite like to believe that for
every Hua
Siong student nurtured under the vigilant eyes of his Alma Mater, this journey
shall always be fashioned out of the
same substance every well-lived life is made of – a saga
of unforgettable moments, of unending departures and returns, of the vibrant
intertwining of memories and experiences that have molded me into what I am
today: a
product of her long, epic past; a testament to her glorious present; and
hopefully, a part of her expectant future.
Who knows? “Mot juste” might just get to mean a hundred
years of excellence, no less.
