Chapter 3 - Look Back Every Once in a While

“Whoa… I guess passing this test leads me to the ceaseless projects and assignments I’ve witnessed Ate brawled with.

Indeed. Ever since Ate sojourned at the white, half-ominous and half-heaven dormitories of that school, she mostly came home over the weekends only to do the flooding assignments or projects she has to conquer by Monday. I have already seen her fight the drowsiness of 3 o’clock in the morning or battle the overwhelming statistics of her research. I already knew what hardships would come, or maybe would intensify even more. Shall I have to endure the same? This test answers that.

                There was still considerable time to spend waiting for the tests to officially commence, so we decided to stay at one of the ghastly but friendly-seeming halls of the school, facing the vast quadrangle which reduced my previous school’s open grounds to one-fourth. But still therein lies memories dating back to my little-more-than-an-infant’s days. Soon the floodgates of my memories opened, engulfing me in a familiar world.

                I was approximately three and a half years old back then, in my shining white polo and brown shorts, wondering what it feels like to be left alone with complete strangers, and separated from the people whom you only apparently knew – family. My mom walked me to the last room of the two-storey building, which hung a wooden but painted sign above its door.

                “Nursery” the sign said, but I had absolutely no idea what it meant.

                “Ready?  This is it.” Mom looked down on me, smiling as if something big was about to happen. I nodded, with no exact expression on my face.

                She opened the door, and what I saw was a completely new dimension. There were about fifteen children; a third of them was seated patiently, another third was crying to no end, and the last was clinging to their dad or mom’s arms, as if a crocodile was about to bite them. They looked like me in the manner that we were wearing the same clothes, except for the ones who had longer hairs than usual, which wore umbrellas from the waist downward to the shoes, except for that they had no frames, but had weird patterns of colors.

                “Hi there! What’s your name?” An adult stooped down to me, wearing a shirt with circles on the middle and shorts that did not separate into two parts, reaching down a little below her knees, and had the same color as the shirt. They were familiar-looking to me, since I’ve seen my mom and my lola wear those, only with different colors.

                I did not say anything. Then I looked up to my mom. She took up the cause and talked a while again with her.

                “ Okay. Sit on those blue chairs. Pick whichever you want.”

                I looked up to my mom again.

                “Go ahead. I’ll be here for a while.” She said in a small voice.

                I went ahead and sat on the nearest untaken seat, beside one of the children who was crying. I looked around while there was nothing yet to do. Half of the room was seemingly dark, half was lit by a bright tube stuck in the ceiling. I wondered what was its difference from the square lights that also lit our house at night. There was a large box leaning on the wall which was divided into four more wide boxes. Posters of what seemed letters and numbers to me took different forms of inanimate objects and animals. But most notable was the green rectangle that hung on the front wall, with white marks and dashes on it. When there was nothing else to look at I focused my eyes on my mom and the adult who talked to me earlier, switching my eyes between them interchangeably.

                Soon the parents were walking out of the room, each waving their hands or hugging their children, especially those that were already screaming at the top of their breaths. My mom just walked up to me end gave me a brief lecture of what I should do. I just nodded and said “yes” repeatedly. Minutes have passed, all parents were gone, and only the single-colored adult was the only adult left with us. A gushing flow of mixed fear and suspense crept to my throat.

                She then explained that school was a place that we were about to spend the next seventeen or so years of life. Well, not entirely all of our lives, but at least half of each days of our lives. Also, she was called a “teacher,” the one who makes us learn things feasibly. Next in her course of actions was to have us say our names one after another.

                “Kyle… Mark Vincent… Paolo… Charlotte…” The names flowed, punctuated by shyness or the weakened sobbing of my fellow children. And not long enough, it was my turn.

                “And you-“

                The bell pulled me out of that world and returned me back to the sight of the quadrangle, realizing it was already time for the test. The students were walking here and there, and into their respective classrooms.

                “I know you can do this. Right?”

                “Yeah, yeah. Let’s see what I can do.”

                “Alright. Do your best.”

                I nodded. Walking to my room was not a difficult task, compared to the test I was about to make. I somehow knew how to go there. The proctor asked for my name, then pointed at my seat. I walked to the seat with confidence, excitement, and fear altogether, fighting each other with no definite end. The sun illuminated the mundane board, highlighting the writing on it.

                “Tantegel National High School First Screening Exams.”