A Student With No Name

“Gha…”

When I was in elementary, one of the reasons I hated Social Studies is the fact that I would need to memorize dates and places, plus tons of names of people in the history of the Philippines. I hated memorization then because I felt like it was a tough task. Forget one word and you will forget the rest of the line. Mnemonics helped but there were times when mnemonics itself was also forgotten.

Our teacher then called me by my first name. I know they kind of marked my name on my forehead — I was the only one wearing glasses in our section, perhaps the whole grade level. I have eye problems since I was little. Aside from that, I had never been off the top five honors list. Not to brag about it but I was always in the honors list since first grade. Not that I am smart or what. I was not even studying hard! I was just destined to be part of the list I guess.

And then came the high school days. My teachers still called me by my first name. I felt like people knew me because of my last name. My parents were teachers in our school. And they are good people; so my teachers knew that I am my parents’ son. When I started acting on stage for school and community affairs, I felt like people knew me more. This time not as my parents’ son but as Jared, the actor. Ours was a small school. But I haven’t gotten the chance to know the names of the schoolmates who called me by my first name. On our senior year, I ran for president and was able to get the post.

It was only in college that I felt like I was tired of joining clubs and tired of being known in the campus. I mean, I preferred to be somebody that no one knows. So I can do whatever I want without being judged. If I behaved well in high school, that was because I knew people knew me. And the name I am tasked to take care might be scarred. I carry our family’s last name; the last name that my parents give integrity to.

I felt free in college. I did things which I haven’t done in previous years. You know that feeling when you do stuff because you felt invisible? But to clear things out, I was not doing stupid things.

When I started in the teaching field, my students called me Teacher Jared, or simply “cher”. It felt awkward at first but I got used to it. What really struck me was when I was called Mr. Laserna. I was walking down the stairs when a student greeted me. I was stunned for a second. The only person who was called such was my father. That “Mr. Laserna” was a name which signifies credibility, integrity, and excellence. It was great and at the same time a pressure to be called that name. That simply means I have to take care of it just like how my father built that name.

Years passed, I am still called that name. Now that I am working in the same school where my father is, I know I have to make an identity of my own. All my life as a student, people see me as my parents’ son or someone who has eyeglasses. I was never called my name for how I made my name. Or so I thought. When I started joining seminars, people called me my first name. I did not know those people, not until they explained how my face was familiar to them. It turned out we were in the same college. They recognized me. I, who thought I had never made something remarkable all those college years was known and recognized by people who held a high profile those days. I was never associated to my parents. It felt awkward. Awkward and good at the same time.

I knew that being called your name by people of high profile, or in the school setting, your teacher, is a big deal. It means you made something remarkable. It motivates. It makes you take care of your name and dignity.

I am handling hundreds of students. And I am guilty of not calling them their names. I cannot memorize their names. I only remember faces but I find it hard to associate the face with the names. What I can remember are names of the extremes — the smart ones, and the challenging ones. Add to that the names of those students whom you will need to remember so you can scold them out and stress their names sharply.

Palangga.

It means love. It is easier to call a student palangga. It may not be as sweet as being called your name but at least it allows one to be aware that they are loved. It lets them to be aware that they are recognized as them, not as associated to their parents or as because of their eyeglasses.

Palangga or simply “ga” or “gha” became an instant name given to any student whose real name is about to be marked — a name given to any student… any student with no name.