The Saga of the Toga and the Hope of Ana

I’ve never felt comfortable wearing the toga.

An ancient accoutrement, it comes with a cape which eventually ends up burying your neck till only your chin—double, in my case today—shows.

Plus I hate it when the toga cap messes my coif. After you take it off, notice your by-now-plateau-top.

But in spite of the toga travail, donning that gown and cape (as faculty members), and seeing our students—especially long-staying ones—move on, is a pleasure.

If only togas could talk! Rented year in and year out, their stories could fill volumes of tele-novela episodes.

Oh that they would record graduation speeches! Would these talks be graded corny, tear-jerker, snore-inducing, highfalutin, inspirational, or plain gibberish?

The graduation speech delivered last Saturday by Macky, one of our finest students, deserved an A for honesty, inspiration, entertainment value, and yes, some drama. A great toga moment.

Here’s another for toga memory:

After receiving her diploma and getting offstage, Ana (not her real name) bent over me for a beso-beso. Then she hugged me tight and didn’t let go until we were both crying and laughing.

That was Ana’s D-day. She proved that in spite of a learning disability, one can stand tall in the company of scholars and learned men.

I was in charge of the school’s mentoring program that term Ana enrolled. Instead of assigning her to other teachers, I appointed myself to be her mentor.

Ana struggled passing her subjects. Teachers spent longer hours coaching her on assignments and projects. But she always came to class on time. She too was very courteous.

And we met regularly as mentor-mentee. Pretty soon, we were discussing not just school matters. Ana shared her dream of opening a flower shop. She talked of her crush.

Some days, she asked for mentoring time to just share how bad she felt—some mean individuals ridiculed her slowness. Oh how we prayed for them too.

But Ana has a special gift. She could write. And unlike most students, she could speak flawless English. Her mother took pride in the fact that despite her learning disability, Ana was skillful with words.

“Written by Ana.” I have since envisioned Ana authoring children’s books.

Oh, that the toga could tell us more Macky and Ana stories to encourage the young that if they persevered and asked God for wisdom, the future would be promising.

“You who are simple, gain prudence, you who are foolish, gain understanding. Choose my instruction instead of silver, knowledge rather than choice gold, for wisdom is more precious than rubies, and nothing you desire can compare with her.” (Proverbs 8: 5, 10-11)