Wednesday, March 21, 2007

4Pilot Batch '97

Ten years ago, I said goodbye to my high school life.

I never cried during my elementary and college graduations. But I did cry when I graduated from high school. Heck, I was already crying two days before our graduation while my classmates were signing my high school uniform and Eraserheads’ “Minsan” was playing in the background. It was hard to say goodbye to these people with whom I spent some of the best years of my life.

But I realized, later on, I was not crying because I’m leaving my friends behind. I’m crying over the passing of an era.

But I was not sad for too long – because while I can’t go back to our past, there are my high school friends I could always go back to. Ten years since we graduated, they’ve been one of the constant things in my life. All of them have changed since our teenage years, but they’re still the same bunch of immature kids who like to talk loud and long, laugh at the silliest jokes, nitpick at grammar and spelling, who sing and dance with wild abandon, gossip about celebrities and non-celebrities. They’re still the same bunch of immature kids who, even though you haven’t talked to them for so long, will find ways just to reach you when you badly need a friend. And the good thing is that you don’t even have to call for help – for they seem to go back to you just at the right moment.

Looking back, I shouldn’t have been friends with these people. I never even wanted to study in UST. I never even wanted to be in the Pilot section. I guess I was glad I never got what I wanted. And to think that the first classmate I got to befriend was the person with whom I share the same birthday and whose mom share the same first name as my mom. Coincidence or not, I’m glad things turned out the way they did.

So, consider this as my personal toast to those four years of (almost) care-free high school days, and the last ten years wherein we’ve hurdled far tougher challenges than the activity board and one stupid bitch commanding us to "kiss the ground".

And here’s wishing for ten or so more years of being friends for life. =)


But the toast won’t be complete without this little trip down memory lane:

Three years of owning the fifth floor. Hundred or so student teachers. More I.W. than Encounter. Filching of Activity sheets from the activity board.

Pilot-Regular rivalry.

Dance practices. Cheering practices. Song and dance practices.

Sir Jucutan who have no idea we’re photocopying the drawings of his previous students.

Scouting. Camping. CAT. Classroom as changing room. The “mysterious” disappearance of valuables.

Top 20 at 12 with Triggerman. Eraserheads. Grin Department. Tropang Trumpo. Mr. Beans.

Syato. Over-the-bakod at the Engineering Complex. UST Basketball Team UAAP Champion for 4 years. Betting on “ending”.

Open forums.

Gala uniform. “Stick-on” patches. “Ribbon your piping”. “Multi-layered” IDs.

McJoan. Slush puppy. Love teams, reel and real. Sweet Valley. Varsitarian and Vuisitarian. World Youth Day. Field trip at Coca Cola Plant. DOS and floppy drives. Vocalization with Mr. Ibarra.

Chalks and ceiling fans.

Vandalisms. No permanent seating arrangement, teacher-initiated or not. The love-hate relationships. Batibot as meeting place. The Annual that never was.

The "notorious" tag.

"4P cheerers, 4P cheerers nasaan kayo?"

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