Requiem for Natividad Rosal

How old was I then?

Fourth year high, 18 years old or something.

Anyway, the trigger. I got to work on Friday morning. Thru the miracle of Yahoo Groups, someone had sent Victor Ramos, a classmate from highschool, a message that our physics and homeroom teacher bit the dust and so and so.

I wasn't so sure how I felt, but I went into a meeting with so and so and there and that project, and found myself sad.

Towards the end of the day, I had told Melissa I was sad. I explained to her who she was.

Natividad Rosal, to me, was a noxious bitch back then. I was fourth year high, drunk from my fame of non-internet, post-Jingle, pre-college smarts.

Or at least that was what I thought of her. She was a terror teacher who traumatized me. She was the one who wanted me to fail miserably and die.

I distinctly remember my friends laughing that she was one of the guys's teacher, that guy was Raymond Tan, and the guys had a sick crush on his mom, who by now is really old.... you know the rest.

Anyway, the reason I am writing this is that towards my adult years I had realized why Natividad Rosal did what she did, why she terrorized me, and all that.

It was because she cared.

In the ending years of my high school life, marred greatly by my father's death and my stupid genius, I was informed that she was the one who championed that I should graduate and move on.

In fact, I distinctly remember her seeing me at some point there after that faithful summer that decided the rest of my life.

She had convinved the Ateneo board to let me move on.

She told me that in the next part of my life, be on time.

I know she will understand, I'm late and all that.

Ms Natividad Rosal, my fourth year high school physics teacher, you have taught me a great deal about life.

I write this for you, because rare is a soul like yours.

Thank you, mam. You changed my life.