Today, I became the official yayo for my kid-o cousin Karl. It’s funny to note that some sixteen years ago (you’re probably counting fingers right now), his dada used to do the same thing whenever she visits Zamboanga City.
I clearly remember how mama would everyday drag me to my Kindergarten seat despite my constant and almost ear-dropping screams. (It must have been an everyday struggle for her. Sorry Ma.) But when Karl’s dada was the official yayo, I was behaved, relaxed, and proper. Looking back, I wonder if mama wished my aunt had lived in our house for the duration of my Kindergarten life.
I still remember my big lunchbox my mama neatly prepared with everyday knick-knacks for recess. And yes Nika, the robot pencil case with magic buttons and robot tumbler would never be forgotten too. (I was into robots when I was younger. And by the way, Nika is my childhood friend whom I met in Kinder - 1)
Sigh.
Enough of that nostalgia, though. Let’s go back to our main lesson today.
During my two-hour pro bono job as the official yayo for my dear kid-o, I spotted this kid who apparently cried after being teased by his seatmate “na dili kabalo maghimu ug rectangle (you don’t know how to make a rectangle)”. I told to myself, “(hahaha…) parehas naku, dali muhilak (the kid was like me, I easily cried before)”. Then, I searched for Nika and found this adorable kid who fondly told jokes to his classmates. Oh, there goes the bullies who used to teased me lampayatot before. Ah, then there’s the wonderful sight of my grade school crush, Nicola…
…And the mixing-and-matching of former classmates became my assignment while Karl listened attentively to teacher demonstrating how to draw a rectangle.
In that preoccupied time I had, I realized that we being stereotypes of some sort started way earlier than our hairs were fully grown in all geographic parts, way earlier than we knew about the birds and the bees, and way before we realized we are a stereotype of some sorts.
Yes folks, it started in Kindergarten One.
There’s that Sick Kid who was excused from class exercises because of asthma the night before. He would just seat back in his small chair, coughing, not knowing how his asthma would excuse him from PE requirements and Intramurals years after.
There’s the Class Jock, the kind the teacher would affectionately call gwapo.
He would probably get the Class Muse or the Class Epal impregnated before he turns eighteen.
There’s the Class Epal who would raise her hand proudly to show off to class (and to Class Jock) how intelligent she actually (thinks she) is. She would answer in echoes, and what she gets from the teacher is an honest “hindi ka ba nag-aral kagabi. (Did you not study last night?”). Her ambition is to become the press secretary of another epal president.
There’s the Silent Kid who refuses to raise his hand (unlike his alter-ego, the Class Epal) and chooses to just listen attentively to teacher. He will stage his own Emo Concert someday and would work on making this world a “gutted town of perplexed and disturbed specimens.”
There’s the Behaved Nerd, Silent Kid’s best friend. He easily perfects the class exam and unselfishly shares assignments with the Mean Girls. He dreams of rocket science, rubix’s cube, and his own IT company someday.
There’s the Mean Girls, (feeling) gorgeous ladies who would pack in threes to devastate Class Muse’s decent recess and Behaved Nerd’s homework. One would grow up a stripper; the other, a professional guest relations officer; the last, a successful wife of a dirty old man.
There’s the Class Muse, Miss Prim and Proper, adorably seated in her own thrown. She doesn’t do a thing but Class Torpe’s eyes are fixated by her charm. She will eventually become the title holder for Binibining Pilipinas, with Class Torpe as her escort.
There’s the Class Muse’s best friend forever, Miss Trying Hard. She dons all the fake accessories and the inarte twang to equate herself with the Class Muse. She would become the founder of a leading comestic brand.
There’s the Class Torpe, the kid who does his best in class to impress the Class Muse. He would get three stars and sighs when Class Muse acknowledges his presence. He would later become his dream girl’s beau.
Yes Karl, ikaw si Class Torpe ug si Alex si Class Muse.
Uy, gi-kilig akong bata.
There you go.
Stereotypes amongst stereotypes. Cliches amongst clichés.
Admit it. We belong to one of those stereos. Which one do you belong to?
And the bell rings for recess.
And there’s the Class Payatot who cried when he lost the Academic Jumble in the Final Round. He loved counting chicks sixteen years ago that he eventually took up Accountancy. He now writes for his blogspot and became a pro bono official CPA-yayo for today.
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Teacher!Teacher!
Teacher (T): Class, this is a rectangle (points to picture). What is this again class?
Class (C) : Rectangle
T: Very Good. Anong mga bagay ang kasinghugis ng rectangle?
Student 1 (S1): Ma’am Unlan.
T: Very Good. Anong Tagalog ng Unlan, Class?
S2: Unan Ma’m.
T: Very Good. Ano naman sa Ingles ang Unan. Sino may alam?
(Class silent. Owl makes a sound.)
T: Class, ang Ingles sa unan ay – PELLOW! PELLOW!
Ano sa Ingles ang unan class?
C: (in assured unison) PELLOW!!!!
T: Ano ulit?
C: PELLOW!!!
T: Very Good Class.
Class Payatot: Very Good. Oh God, save our educational system here in the Philippines.
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Teacher! Teacher!
Teacher asked a question while some active students (especially Class Epal) answered like it was World Summit of Leaders. Teacher intervened.
Teacher: Class, para maintindihan natin ang isa’t isa, dapat isa-isa tayong magsalita tapos yung iba tahimik muna na makikinig.
Teacher left without letting the Summit of Leaders answer one by one.
Class Payatot: Ironic. Teacher, be a (wo)man of your words next time, ok?
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