Predicted Predictions.

I don’t blame DepEd for the stress, really.

I slept for ten hours before the day itself, bidding farewell to eyebags, cooking my own rice in the cooker, guzzling Swiss Miss with Marshmallows to enliven my feeling. I fried Spam and Egg for breakfast, and Spam for lunch. Syempre, may kanin. I filled a tupperware with Chips Ahoy – the chewy one, for recess.* Sharpened not one, but three Mongol pencils.** Took a bath, clothed myself with school uniform, sprayed, dabbed, fixed – the usual morning stuff.

It was quarter to six when I started to walk from our house to McArthur Highway. I refused to go with the school service since it would delay me for around twenty minutes. Winter solstice. Fog was there, and the frigid air loomed around me. The crescent moon basking as the orange atmosphere swallows the darkness. No revving engines, just the muted main street of the subdivision like Avril Lavigne’s – it’s a dark cold night. If you were keen enough, you could’ve remember the empty street around her. Identical with mine.

I hailed a jeep, gave six pesos, and sang All American Rejects’ It Ends Tonight. I’m such a nocturnal boy that I always sing ‘night’ songs.

During my speedy tricycle ride across the fields, my body shivered like what it was in Baguio. Fuckin’ cold. Dewdrops at the tip of every weed, the orange-blue transformation of the atmosphere, the sun rising. And I arrived early.

We started 7:35 and ended up at 2. I’m stuck in the air-conditioned classroom, almost frozen, numb feeling, head floating from the exam. The mock tests conducted by the school were even harder than the actual test, which is good for me. DepEd must be joking. Honestly, it’s easy, except the Scientific Ability part wherein I dived in a pool of experiments. To my astonishment, the Math part was easy. Anyway, the results were more important.

During the test, all I could remember was me humming Green Day’s deafening Wake Me Up When September Ends, Story of the Year’s And the Hero Will Drown, and Paramore’s Franklin, and Here We Go Again. We made fun of our teacher, who came from a nearby school – Sto. Nino.*** The room was filled with boisterous laughing that we were scolded by a supervisor for two times.

I want to thank the Faculty for torturing our youthful bodies into sin-cosine converters, when in fact, not even a trace of Trigonometry appeared in the NCAE. But at least, we are prepared. For their patience, in spite of our sleepiness while discussions were going on. For giving us almost a hundred brown papers as a reviewer, and for the compulsory fee of almost 600 pesos for the review. It was worth it. Better armed, than empty-handed.

After those bloody recap with shitloads of lessons, Intrams is coming!!! Freedom papers plastered at every corner, spilling students’ hate letters or warnings to someone they loathe the most. My organizations were still busy tweaking some wires for the incoming event. Glee Club would be having Dedication Booth, bringing in massive speakers, acting like DJs and playing CDs. Art Club would be working for a Tattoo Booth. YPS would be selling ice cream. Wonderful. Imagine myself riding in the Octopus and the Ferris Wheel, having a henna tattoo on one of my fingers, that’s corny.

But at least, notebooks were temporarily useless.

Hope there’s a Jail Booth. And hope that Seniors would win the Cheering Competition. Go Seniors!

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* NCAE rules say that once you entered the room for the test, you are not allowed to go outside. We are obliged by the school to bring packed lunch and recess, and water. Unfortunately, I forgot to bring a bottle of water. Good thing, salivary glands are auto-built.

** Still complying with the NCAE rules, a student must use a Mongol #2 pencil. Bring extras in case of twisted fate.

*** Teachers to supervise the students should come from a nearby school. In that case, it’s Sto. Nino. I thought their teachers were extra-strict, and collegiate-looking (read: professor-like) single women with ages ranging from forty to sixty. Worse if wheelchaired or with crutches. I’m wrong. They’re more like twenty-something. Doubtful stability and loyalty when it comes to their job.

~ by utakgago on January 17, 2007.