Requiem for a Teacher

It was one of those sweltering, hot Manila mornings, way back in nineteen-forgotten, on May 16th, 1974…… You know the ones I’m talking about, the unrelenting sun beating down on you with no shadow coverage in sight, with the sweat dripping down the small of your back and the tip of your nose, the acrid aroma of rotting fruit in the distance from some schoolgirl’s thrown-away lunch from home, the pungent perfumed fragrance of balut wafting towards your nostrils like a bad memory of that Nasugbu beach trip with the SeaFront Teen Center - no breeze in the air, and you’re trying not to look too uncomfortable as you sweat buckets like a stuck pig, trying to hide your glee that after twelve years of suffering through this tropical squalor you’re almost finally free to return to the land of your birth……

She said “Russell wants to see you”. She was a talking about Dr. Daryle Russell, high school principal. Since I was just daydreaming in the Senior Class lounge in between classes, pretending to be interested in the foozball game between Ahn Tuan Bui and Phil Adamson, I was a bit annoyed and felt put-upon by this interruption, but sauntered out the doorway anyway, down the hall and towards the admin offices.

“We’d like you to present the Outstanding Teacher’s Award to Señora de Gaspar at the Honor and Awards Assembly”, Russell said. “Walang problema, pare ko” I thought to myself, but somehow the words came out of my mouth as “Sure, Dr. Russell, no problem. What do I have to do?”

“When I give you the nod, walk discreetly up on stage and while I’m explaining the award to the crowd, I’ll discreetly pass it to you. Just hold on to it, stand next to me, and after I finish talking, Señora de Gaspar will come on stage and you give her the award trophy and shake her hand.” he explained.



“When’s this happening?” I queried. “In about an hour,” he said. “Jeez, thanks for the heads-up, bonehead, ‘tangina!” I thought to myself, but somehow the words came out of my mouth as “You can count on me, Dr. Russell.” I beat it on out of his office, wondering how I was going to find time to sneak a cigarette outside the school gate near the old bookstore in time for my next class before the awards assembly.

As my body went through the motions of walking towards the gate and firing up a Kent, my mind started drifting to how I met Señora de Gaspar, how long I’d known her, my experiences in her class, and all she’s taught me over the years…..

Like the many times we’d be watching old black-and-white movies of arcane, semi-pronounceable parts of Spain in the old A/V room before there was a Media Center, and Señora de Gaspar spoke in wonderment of how great Spain was and how we should all visit there one day…..

Or the times we’d be struggling through verb conjugation, vocabulary acquisition, and how stupid it felt to say “grathias” instead of “gracias”, using the Castillian accent that Señora de Gaspar favored and tried to impose on us……

Or the time I just had just returned from summer vacation stateside, and was wearing a sleeveless, beige, ribbed, tank-top shirt favored by athletes of that era and she felt compelled to send me home to change my shirt because it was too “revealing” (bomba!!) and it would distract the girls in the class……

Or how I felt the difficulty of reading “Don Quijote de la Mancha” entirely in Spanish, and although I could read all the words and thought I understood the context, it wasn’t until she explained the metaphor of chasing windmills that I felt my life on earth was somehow made more meaningful and my horizons were somehow broadened…..

She had a habit of doing that, Señora de Gaspar did, of broadening her students’ horizons….. She wasn’t just interested in teaching us new vocabulary, or correct pronunciation, or how to conjugate the most difficult “exception-to-the-rule” verbs and all those different verb tenses that were difficult to relate to in spoken English - plusquamperfecto, what the hell is that!?! (HINT: The Spanish “pretérito plusquamperfecto” verb tense is identical with the English “past perfect” verb tense.) You could really feel that Señora de Gaspar wanted you to experience life through the eyes of a fluent Castillian Spanish speaker, as if that would somehow transport you to a different world-view, a different perspective, a different way of living and experiencing life…..

You know, she was right. Spending four years in her Spanish classes in high school did broaden my horizons, taught me to be more appreciative of other cultures, and was really helpful later on in life especially when I went to live for a few years in Central America. Her uncanny ability to reach out to each of her students individually, make each of us feel special in our own way, her genuine caring about our wants and needs and aspirations and likes and dislikes, her individual attention to every single student that came under her wing, whether for a short semester or for a few long years…..

I’ll always hold a special place in my heart for Señora Carmen de Gaspar. I’ll always remember her, and the impact she’s had on my life. Vaya con Dios, Señora, vaya con Dios. Wherever you are and whatever you’re doing, I know in my heart that you’re teaching others, reaching out to others, making others feel good about themselves, and broadening their horizons. We’ll all miss you, but the indelible imprint you’ve made on all our lives will ne’er be forgotten and perhaps some time again we’ll be sitting at your feet in that great classroom in the sky…..

Señora Carmen de Gaspar

Spanish Teacher

International School
Manila, Philippines