Ma'am C

Aside from enduring Advanced Algebra, Physics, and other knotty subjects in high school, writing a composition was another thorn in the flesh – a sheer hell to many students but a joy to few including me. I liked writing since then and so it was no big deal.

“Again?!” I could hear my classmates in gripe as they made attempts to put every imagination from rough to final drafts. Whether it was an announced or a surprised task, it was never a great idea to come up with a beautiful essay. And four years were like light years away to bear – as often as not a struggle more than just a pain in the neck. I could tell.

Right now, I’m so tempted to say that it is undeniably my destiny to write – for one reason is to bless every heart. However, it is also a pure vanity not to mention or not even alluding to the person who had affirmed this gift in many chances – it was Maám C, my teacher dear in high school.

If only she had a choice, she would probably want all her students to be very good at grammar or to do well in creative writing as much as she did. But it wasn’t for her to decide because gifting and interest vary. Well, she had me and I owe to her this inspiration for as long as I live.     

Every time the word “grammar” is brought up in a conversation, I am but constantly reminded of her. It’s always stepping back in time when I first learned the language rules by heart besides basic foundation. I wonder if she noticed my eagerness and enthusiasm for such an area of interest; maybe or maybe not...who knows?

I was always a late bloomer in my younger years, in different domains except singing – from literary works to sports and even in academics, I began to have developments only in my secondary years. To be honest, I started playing the piano in my senior year in high school.

I had my first written poems and songs in sophomore year including cheering yells and jingles. And so it was a great feeling to have someone to affirm your strengths – Ma’am C alongside with my appreciative classmates.

Through her I had come to know the life of every famous poet – that I might be inspired and urged to write more – I did for many years.

Hope stirred within my heart by becoming a journalist because she helped me see it – she prayed for my dream and seconded my aspiration. She always bragged about me to other students. I heard it through the grapevines.     

“You are a natural teacher, a gifted one!” she told me a couple of times for every opportunity reporting the assigned topic. She wasn’t foretelling or prophesying but she was avowing what she saw in me. And no one could distort that image or nothing could take those kind words away from me, not a single chance.

  

Where I am from, we don’t really address our teachers by first name; we call them Ma’am or Sir to show respect regardless of status and age. But it is no unusual to give teachers other names as well as long as they aren’t aware of that or no one calls them those made up names.

And so we had one for her – Ma’am C or Ma’am Composition – a funny name to others but not to those who find inspiration from the name itself.  For it was in this seemingly bizarre name I have become what I am now. If not in this, I wonder if I could write an essay or a reflection paper or a research paper or a thesis or dissertation or a book or simply have the courage to join any literary competitions.

Through Ma’am C, my confused imagination was unlocked becoming a creative, a reflective, and a critical thinker more than I could predict – because of one unanticipated composition a person like me would seriously take.   

If I wasn’t told, didn’t know that I gave her bolt from the blue for my write-ups. She was my captive audience and for sure would still be if she hasn’t gone home. 

This is not the first time to feature her in my journey to the world of writing, I already did few times. If you have been following my blog, you probably have read an article (“Don’t Forget to Remember Me”) by now; featuring people who have blessed me tremendously. And if it takes hundred write-ups to do it, I would not mind.

It’s truly a big regret; she could have had copies of my published and unpublished works. And my heart is in endless thanks to you, Maám C.