NEVERLAND - My Article featured in Philippine Daily Inquirer

YOUNGBLOOD
Neverland
By Czeka Svetlana Tuvilla
Inquirer
First Posted 00:42am (Mla time) 05/03/2007

MANILA, Philippines -- The only thing that convinced me to go to school was the monthly allowance I would be getting. I expected almost everything else in my existence to be gruesome in the next four years.

Every weekday, I would have to wake up at 5 a.m., travel through three cities and pass endless sugarcane fields to get to the mental institution lost in the middle of nowhere. At night, I would have to stay up late, reviewing lessons and preparing for tests -- and arise the next morning, only to realize that I needed to do what I had done the night before all over again.

I kept imagining this kind of high school life, which was far from what I had dreamed of. Instead of a normal curriculum, I would be loaded with advanced classes. Instead of late night-outs, I would be cramming for the exams. Instead of dance clubs, I would have to choose among the Cult of Math Wizards and Science Freaks’ Society. Instead of dreamy popular jocks, I would have to put up with boring, socially isolated, “may-sariling-mundo” [in-a-world-of-their-own] nerds.

This was not the high school I had seen in teen flicks. This was not the high school described by punk bands in their songs. This definitely was not Sweet Valley. But no matter how much these anxieties discouraged me, it seemed I was meant to study there.

All expectations became reality on my first day in school. They did not have a dance organization, no Orlando Bloom look-alike (although I had to admit, some came a little close), no neat lockers, no mirrors in the comfort rooms. The only thing I got was an assignment, on the first day of classes!

The following days brought more disappointments. Instead of a football field, we had a deserted savannah. Instead of a gym, we had a stage and a court that were totally exposed to carcinogenic radiation. Instead of a canteen, we had a “tiangge” [flea market] and a few wooden tables and chairs that slowly sank into the muddy ground. Instead of malls and restaurants and the excitement of a bustling city life, we were surrounded by trees and “amorseco” grass, crazy dogs and crazy snakes, and the monotony of trucks passing by. And since the school was just six years old when I first enrolled, there was (and still is) a serious deficiency in physical resources.

Every morning, I felt nauseous after the long trip to get there. I was too lazy to copy notes. I was sleeping in class and struggling to keep up with the lessons, because I was always absent-minded.

Determined to have a decent high school life, I raved and ranted and told my parents that I needed to change schools. But by the time they came to agree with the idea, I had grown averse to leaving. The first months may have been spent on making adjustments and throwing unnecessary tantrums, but what followed was incomparable fun.

You see, this school is a sanctuary for kids who have been deprived of their childhood. Many of the students have been pressured by their parents since they were young. Undeniably, their learning has made them bright, but it cost them their early years.

In our school, we lived in our own world. High school students enjoying jump rope, jackstone, Chinese garter and local favorites like “langit-lupa,” “sekyu,” “enter-enter,” “tumba-patis” and “shakay” were not common. Boys and girls joined games of hide and seek and we hurt ourselves playing “Dr. Wak-wak.” Some even pretended they were mutants and engage in Marvel vs. Capcom fights.

When we met other students from the urban schools, we could not help but compare how they were “more dalaga” or “more binata” [more grown up] than us. Most of our former classmates were more reserved and self-conscious.

Don’t get me wrong. Our life was not all about games and fooling around. Peter Pan and his gang may not have grown up, but they learned how to find solutions when problems came their way, to fight for what they believed in. It was not easy to pass if you did not try hard. We were taught how to survive, how to be competitive, how to be resourceful and wise (we had to improvise if emergency struck because we were far from civilization, remember?), how to stand out, how to face unlikely situations, how to be productive and responsible people for society. The claim to being “the cream of the crop” was the result of quality training, diligence and perseverance.

We were serious about our studies. But that doesn’t mean we didn’t know how to unwind and relax and simply have a good time with our classmates. The extreme academic demands and the extreme excitement of being young created a unique balance that produced a new breed of students -- students who knew how to survive the ruthless race of life and enjoy the experience.

But the best thing I found in this school was that everyone was family. Our brilliant teachers were our friends and the small population made it possible to know almost all the students (who were living proof that beauty, talent and brains could mix). You may not please everyone, but the many wonderful people reminded you that you were special. With the mental stress came misunderstandings and inspirations, cunning strategies and values that made us emotionally mature. (And honestly, I’ve never met a friendlier and a more approachable principal than the one we had.)

We had a half-covered court, collapsing walls and sandstorms. We had no telephone connection and intramural competitions. A tricycle ride to the school cost me P30. But while many people would consider these things discouraging, they actually helped make us better persons and better prepared since more of such things waited for us when we entered college and professional life.

I once had a dream: I was riding on the side car of a tricycle, back to back with another person. I saw the main building standing proud among tall sugar stalks and trees. It held its usual simple charm. No, it did not show age nor did it show signs of falling down. The sight was heartwarming, the facade brought back smiles and tears as well as memories of successes and failures, of friends and enemies, of bonding and competitions, sleeping and cramming sessions, the foot walk, the duel academy, scandals, intellectual monsters, terror teachers, terror students, rallies, corny jokes, the pink room, the blue room. All these I would not exchange for better facilities and a JS prom, I thought.

Suddenly I noticed that the scenery seemed to be getting farther and farther away from me. Then I realized it was I who was moving away. I didn’t want to get out of this place. I had found a refuge for my eccentric soul, a second home where I could be young and happy amid all the social and mental pressures.

But no one can stay in their comfort zones all the time. One day, we all need to step out and face the real world. I had found Neverland, and now I was leaving it.

And just like Wendy, and (almost) all who had graduated from this school, I will always yearn for this place and relive the moments and the memories.

Czeka Svetlana Tuvilla, 17, graduated from the Negros Occidental Science High School last April 1.