I think I must have been nine years old the first time you spoke to me. I was standing in front of the classroom in what felt like a police line-up, feeling a bit nervous and apprehensive as you looked at each one of us sternly and quite disapprovingly. I don't know what kind of trouble I had gotten myself into again (although I remember that it had something to do with my being talkative as usual in class), but somehow my teacher felt compelled to ask for your help to rein us girls in. When you got to me, you asked me what my name was. And when I told you, I could sense that something immediately clicked inside your brain.
"Do you have an older sister named Suzy?" you demanded in such a way that I wanted to answer I was an only child. "Yes," I spoke the truth instead . It was impossible to lie to you; I felt that if I had tried to fib my way out of this or anything else then the earth would open up beneath me and I'd fall into an endless, dark, winding chute destined straight for Hell.
"Pray tell, is there another sister after you?" you asked me again. I nodded my head and said there was another one in the second grade. You frowned and shook your head, as if all us Santos sisters were solely responsible for all your troubles in the world. But then you smiled.
And that's when I knew the last thing I wanted to do was disappoint you. And as far as I'm concerned, I never did again. You scared me straight, and I realized it felt infinitely better to be on your good side than your bad. Or at least that it was the smart thing to do.
You became my freshman high school English teacher when I was almost 13. I was thrilled because you were the best there was, even if it meant I'd have to work especially hard for my A. Although I can't remember the details of that day, there was one afternoon we all read a story and you asked if anyone could define the word "garrulous" by using it in a sentence. Then Ritchie raised her hand and when you called on her, she proceeded to use MY name as the noun and the word as the adjective. And then she looked at me, half-mocking, half-winking, and I was absolutely mortified.
You were quiet for a few uncomfortable moments, I think, although I can't be certain because I was stewing silently in my seat. And then you gave Richie that look you gave me on the first day we met: you told her that although you suspected she knew the correct meaning of the word, that her sentence was completely incorrect because there was absolutely no way that the word she just defined had defined me. But you didn't stop there; you even said (and I didn't expect you to do this) that when I spoke I used my words thoughtfully and carefully. But that based on what she had just said, she apparently didn't.
I immediately felt my back straighten and my spirit rise. It wasn't just because you upbraided her for accusing me of being excessively talkative regarding trivial matters -- not even if that was the very same thing you once scolded me for being four years before. It was because I realized at that moment I had earned your respect and your good opinion, and it was because you -- whom I'd held in such high esteem since I was a little girl -- were now proud of how I'd turned out as a teenager.
Although I think you will seriously disagree with some of my views about life and living today, I believe you would still be proud of me when you discover that I managed to find my way through the years and around the world, and finally grew up to become a decent, capable person and a strong, independent woman. Just as how I saw you all my life.
But today I heard you're now missing, and that you're the one who's lost her way. I found out how three weeks ago you disappeared after you walked to church on your own and how you were found dirty, bruised, and semi-conscious a week later and then eventually moved to a refuge for the homeless elderly. I discovered that your case worker released you out into the streets of Manila to fend for yourself alone again because you told her you had money and knew where you lived -- and how she didn't bother to verify if this was all indeed true. And how -- in the most ironic twist of all -- how she let you go, a frail 71-year-old woman with failing mental faculties, because you spoke English well. I heard that you haven't been seen since.
A long time ago, when I was still a child, you inspired me to choose to do the right thing, to be honest and not afraid of hard work and effort. A long time ago you set me on the right road and gave me what I needed to get to where I wanted or needed to go. But now that I'm here I can't do the same for you, and I desperately want you to be where you belong. And it's not where you're lost, confused, helpless, endangered, and alone; it's not how I ever imagined you would be.
I'm writing you this letter because I should have done so many years ago, but I'm ending it quite differently from how I would have wanted to. I feel powerless and useless because you're lost both inside your mind and outside on the streets somewhere, and there's nothing I can do to help you find your way back home safely. I always anticipated that I'd see you at my high school reunion next year and how you'd bask in the bright glow of our admiration and heartfelt thanks. Instead I dread the thought of a somber shadow cast upon your empty seat, and especially of never seeing you again. There are very few regrets I carry, and one of them is surely that I never thanked you or told you how much knowing you has meant to me and how it has made all the difference.
UPDATE Aug. 14, 2006: Received news that she was finally found, but no details yet.





:-(
Posted by: blueeagle | August 12, 2006 at 10:01 AM
I have put up the missing person poster for Miss Marquez on our Batch 81 website, and here is the link to the entry:
http://acbatch1981.blogspot.com/2006/08/miss-marquez-missing-poster.html
I hope and pray she is found soon. She was never my teacher but was principal when I was in grade school, and as a child I was always terrified by authority so she was intimidating to me. But I always heard she was strict but fair. I wish I had known her as a teacher.
Posted by: Anna | August 12, 2006 at 01:00 PM
Sorry, the link in my first post did not copy correctly, here it is again:
http://acbatch1981.blogspot.com/2006/08/miss-marquez-missing-poster.html
Posted by: Anna | August 12, 2006 at 01:01 PM
Hi blueeagle - :( indeed.
Anna - Her photograph shown on the "Missing" poster gave me shivers. She still looks the same albeit a bit older, and still very elegant somehow. It made me miss her even more. I added the link into the article. Thank you so much for sending it to me. I really hope she's found soon.
Posted by: Gigi | August 13, 2006 at 03:39 PM
hi gigi,
i hope ms. marquez is okay now. a pity what happens to people who inspired us in our younger days but to some they just become a burden as that case worker probably thought, kaya she let her go without bothering to check the facts...
Posted by: missP | August 14, 2006 at 11:05 PM
Thankfully, Miss Marquez has been found - in Lucena, Quezon, where a Good Samaritan had apparently given her enough money to travel to. Fitting that she was found on the eve of Assumption Day, which is Aug. 15. Last we heard on the 14th, her brother was on his way to pick her up.
Posted by: Anna | August 15, 2006 at 01:10 PM
hi MissP - Thank you for your kind thoughts. :)
Hello Anna - Yes, I heard a bit of the update and am so amazed and thankful. I wonder what happens to her now, though?
Posted by: Gigi | August 15, 2006 at 04:30 PM
OMG, Gigi, I'm so happy that she has been found and I'm also touched that you have very fond memories of your teacher. How I wish my students would remember me the same way too ... even if not fondly (ha ha!), I'd be happy if they'd say that somehow, I changed their lives. Please update us about your teacher, okay?
Posted by: bugsybee | August 15, 2006 at 10:07 PM
i just looked at the poster and she looks NOTHING like i remember her to have looked! if she were my grade school principal when i finished 7th grade in 1970, then she was only 35 years old when she was my english teacher... and she was definitely young and vibrant, not to mention intelligent, at the time!
it's scary how one can change so drastically in thirty-six years :)
Posted by: sistah #1 | August 15, 2006 at 11:07 PM
Hi Bugsy - I have no doubts whatsoever that you've touched the lives of quite a few of your students. Why, you've already made a difference in mine through your kind and thoughtful private emails -- and you were never even my teacher (in school, that is). :)
Sistah - I think she still looks terrific in the picture! Older, yes, but still so distinguished. Plus she was much younger when she was your teacher anyway, hehe.
Posted by: Gigi | August 16, 2006 at 11:10 AM
I was dreading the ending of this post Gigi. That part of me that doesn't trust people and the world was almost certain that Ms Marquez is forever lost. And so even if I don't know your teacher, I am still so relieved to see all the comments about her finally being found.
So many teachers we've all had. To me, a couple of them have made significant impact in my life, and I still do visit my old school and my teachers from time to time when I am back in Manila. It is nice to go back and let them know of what we've made of ourselves and how they have strongly influenced that.
I sincerely hope that you get your chance to see Ms Marquez again. I'm sure she'll be proud.
Posted by: Jovs | August 23, 2006 at 03:53 AM
ate,
just read your post. im glad she was found. i, too, have fond memories of her. i remember a day in my second grade when we used to take the school bus to AC Antipolo. I had a very heavy bag with all my notebooks and a small pillow mom put inside my bag for the long trip. On my way to my classroom, Ms. Marquez saw me dragging my bag. She carried it for me...can u imagine, the school principal carrying my bag to the classroom!?! :-D
Posted by: buns | August 23, 2006 at 08:04 AM
Hi Jovs - I still can't believe she was found and is OK -- and I'm so, so happy! I hope she will be at our high school reunion next year. Although I don't think she will remember me (because of the alzheimer's), it doesn't matter. Because I remember her, as so many others do. And people that amazing --well -- it just feels that something's all right in the world when they are not only remembered, but acknowledged.
Hi Buns - I didn't know that story! You were so little nga, and I can just imagine her seeing you trying to lug your heavy bag and wonder if you would even make it to your classroom (esp. since we had to walk up/down stairs and climb hills!). Naku, I love her even more after this story. :)
Posted by: Gigi | August 23, 2006 at 11:29 PM