“To give and not to count the cost.” – St. Ignatius
MISTER Orlando Darang was my Filipino teacher at the Ateneo de Davao High School. I will not write about how he was as a teacher as thousands of his students know about his wit, wisdom, and his famous grip. Rather, let me talk about him as a colleague.
Fourteen years after I graduated from the high school, I found myself back in its corridors and walls but this time as a teacher. I was the most surprised of all because never in my dreams did I ever think of coming back as a teacher. But there I was.
It was surreal to say the least but there I was.
Of course things had changed because now the school had female students.
Of course things had changed as there were new faces in the faculty and of course things had not changed a bit as there were old faces in the faculty.
Mr. Potestas, now teaching Math, he was my P.E. teacher back then. Mrs. Delima was still teaching English and so was Mrs. Moreno. Mr. Vergel was still with his Florante and Laura. Mr. Sotto with his El Filibusterismo and Mr. Darang was still teaching Noli Me Tangere.
My former teachers were now my colleagues. That was one for the books for me.
I cannot remember the exact moment but there was a time when I had a talk with Mr. Darang. I confessed to him how difficult it was to teach a bunch of high school students and that I was wondering how he did it with ease with us. (Of course, it did help that we were all scared of him when we were third year students.) I had to tell him that I was having a hard time getting their attention and their cooperation as well. I asked him, “ganun ba kami kahirap?” He just smiled and laughed. And like a father lecturing to a son he said, “Alam mo Rene, mahalin mo lang sila.”
I could not forget those words though at that time I could not fathom nor comprehend yet how I could love students who seemed to have one purpose in life and that was to make their teachers grimace and suffer. But I kept those words in mind.
As to how I could love? That was a different kind of challenge. I still had to find out for myself how I would, if ever I could “love” those students.
I knew what it meant but as to how I would do it was lost to me. But I kept it.
Years later, I got to understand what he meant. He was made prefect and I wondered how he would do this. It is one thing to manage a class but a whole school is totally different. But he did manage it in his own way and in fact, he did it well. I would see him scold students and they would be so scared that they hardly could talk. I saw him yell at latecomers and offenders. But the craziest thing would happen afterwards.
I recall one latecomer, a girl who had to rush to her class. It was unfortunate for her that she ran smack into Mr. Darang. The man shouted something and she ran like her life depended on it. As she passed me she said, “kainis talaga yang si Darang sir ba.” And she smiled and went her merry way.
Then, there was the dreaded haircut inspection. Mr. Darang would go to each classroom and inspected the hair of the boys to find out if they had the prescribed haircut.
Once I was in the middle of my lecture and he knocked the classroom’s door, entered the room and started inspecting. I always looked forward to that because what could be a painful experience of being sent out would actually turn out to be fun moments. That was his magic and his wonder.
Everyone knew that he was tough and strict; everyone knew that he would not hesitate to throw the book at you if you messed up. Everyone knew that he had a job to do and he did it well and yet no one minded. Because everyone knew the kind of person he was. He loved his job and he loved his students. All of us knew that he cared. His muscular body and his stern look could not hide the concern he had for all his students.
And that is why at the wake, people were smiling and people were laughing about the wonder of Mr. Darang.
I do not know what the Ateneo High School is like nowadays. I do not know what kind of teachers they have.
Perhaps they are taught about Magis and Ignatian Spirituality. I have no idea really because it has been years already. But I do know one thing-if ever you teachers at the Ateneo High School or whatever you call it now, need to find someone to look up to, just remember Mr. Darang.
If you want to find out how and what it means “to give and not to count the cost” remember him. He lived that phrase. He understood it. He meant it.
That is what happens kung mahal mo sila.
Peace Sir.