Sweet Memory

“You’re too early for the next subject!” She would often exclaim in a classy bearing. Her cute rabbit-like teeth would simultaneously sway with her angry lips. Next, her eyes would stare at us in a silent rage and would just stop after all of us were finally seated.

Suddenly, I find this memory a little weird but sweet. It was a scene way back in high school that my classmates and I had grown fond of. This scene only happens if we’re late in our English class, and it happens too often that I can never forget it.

Suddenly I missed Jennifer Berces, my High school English teacher. For no reason, she popped out of my head and I just remember her. Ma’am Jen had been our mentor during our junior and senior years.  She taught us the same subject—English, the subject which I am very comfortable listening to. I have had several teachers who taught this subject, but it is only Ma’am Jen, in my opinion, who really can give justice to it.

I could remember the way she speaks with her clear and distinct voice as her mouth illustrates the right pronunciation of a certain word. I love looking at her doing just that. I am her silent fan, hoping that one day I will inherit her flair in speaking. While I’m too engrossed appreciating her knack on teaching, some of my classmates find her as the opposite, and for them she is a bore.

Many books can prove that we, as humans, have different interests. Perhaps my classmates didn’t find an English subject as interesting as the other subjects. Consider Math as an example… I hate it so much that I feel so bored understanding numbers and their correlations. I appreciate how my Math teacher would wait for my slow mental grasp to fully comprehend a certain lesson.  I love her for that but not the subject she ought to instill in my mind. I am bored of Math and it is not perhaps in the circle of my interests.

Exactly ten years ago, I wrote something about my classmates and teachers which I entitled “The Class Comedic Traits”. It was a long essay filled with comical adventure that has transpired over our four years stay in our Alma mater. I wish to show that essay to Ma’am Jen, but I know it was badly written like the ones I submitted to her during our essay exams and so I just let my classmates appreciate it, without her knowing.

I did not know if Ma’am Jen noticed my willingness to learn under her care. I did not know how she finds me as her student. The only thing that consoles me is that I got a passing grade from her. Not bad anyway. Maybe up to now, she didn’t know how she impacted my life. She was really a great influence.

This year is our Alumni Homecoming and she’s one of the many teachers I want to thank and visit. I want her again to utter: “You’re too early for the next subject!”