my nose has since simmered, but a few hours ago, fractions were getting lost in the midst of sniffing, heaving. i've since graduated to decimals and i'm slowly building my confidence in these numbers from long ago.

of all the high school math we were made to learn, i thrived in algebra the most. algebra was taken in freshman year and our teacher was mr sabado who, when we didn't feel like doing our monomial/polynomial drills (normally numbering 1 to 60), we'd cajole into rendering us his favorite song forbidden love. (or was it forbidden game?)

songs during classes are supposed to be restricted to music class but they figured in a number of my classes, never mind that they had nothing to do in aiding the teaching of the subject. there was grade five social science class with mr mendoza. legend has it that his hair piece was discovered when he once entered a classroom, not knowing that a piece of wire was jutting overhead. in mr mendoza's class, the song of choice was either yellowbird or the beatles' all my loving. it was only years later that i heard the correct pitch for the latter song as god knows proper pitching was hardly mr mendoza's song, but it was the routine. we start each session with either yellowbird or all my loving and we were all bored to death when we sing. still, as dutiful grade schoolers, we go along with the singing.

then, there was ms custodio, freshman high school literature teacher, from whom i learned the lyrics to the song if by bread. i suppose she really wanted us to feel the message of the song because she brought with her an old glossy calendar with the lyrics written on the white back. ms custodio was fair-skinned and i can't really describe her speaking voice, except that it's thick, but not husky.

mr tabinga, senior year agriculture teacher, was neither one to sing to his class nor teach his students a song from his youth, but he taught us the rudiments of bartering. cashew nuts were the hot commodity, but it wasn't whether we actually were good at it that threw us into panic. he dangled the proposition that should we manage to smoke cigarettes with ipil-ipil leaves stuffed in them, we'd get extra points, and in the world of mr tabinga's aggie shed, every opportunity for extra points must be grabbed. erin, sweet erin, actually took it seriously and was ready to have her puff. i can't remember after this point whether she actually did it or, if she did, did she get the coveted points?

if there's high school biology, then frog dissection's not too far behind. but that's not what i rememered in mrs quintana's class. what i (and the rest of the class) did remember was her black bra evident for all to see. so you see, she did the black-underwear-under-white-blouse mode long before the fashion.

oh yes, the frogs. some were just too chicken to drive the scalpel into the frog. others were game at it, except that for some of the groups, they didn't [in the frog well enough on the bed of hardened wax so it was the opportunity for some frogs to leap for safety - with entrails and internal organs lagging behind.

of course we were one for sacred rituals, so in memory of all the frogs that died in the name of academic excellence, we held a burial, complete with strewn flowers and private prayers, at the back lot of the school.

it's funny how i've managed to remember all of these details and yet i am, with my struggles in remembering what to do with fractions and decimals, feeling my way through these numerical operations. in the end, you're not quite sure what is it exactly you've picked up in high school (and grade school, for that matter). or what i was supposed to learn all those years. still, there is always that sigh or that long pause when asked what is it in those years you remember the most.

as for me, some lessons may have been half-learned. other were digested quickly, leaving me to hanker for more. still others were best forgotten. but the most important thing i learned from those wonderful, crazy years was that we all had a thing or two to learn from each other. i may not remember what poems or stories ms custodio taught us but i do remember her eagerness as a new teacher. i remember with fondness mr sabado's persistence in making us do those drills, to which i owe my love of algebra.

and as for mr tabinga? i may have been desperate for points (but not too desperate to try ipil-ipil cigarette) but he demonstrated to us resourcefulness, inventiveness and a gentle reminder not to take things too seriously, even if the proverbial carrot was a few extra points.