A Letter to Someone

Dear So-and So,

In my yearning to re-educate myself of the countless lessons that I have easily forgotten in my Nursing Major Subjects I finally took the step to dive into the huge bulk of dusty old notes, hand outs, books and envelops that were left untouched and were piled in my bookshelf, when I came to find an old brown envelop. What really caught my attention was the 6 paged term paper that I passed to you about four years ago.

It is about the different theories proposed by Piaget, Kohlberg and Freud. My term paper was written in a very bad English, not that I have improved since then, but I found it very much embarrassing and amusing at the same time. Funny how that sometimes happen, eh?

And it all came back to me, how you challenged our whole class into a bet saying that our particular block will fail to have a 100% submission on the deadline, and how we won and you paid us through your queer “children’s party.” Yes, you called it our “children’s party.” You asked us to bring our own childhood photos and recite to the class the story behind each photo as we lick our ice creams and muffins. It was indeed a cool experience. You even taught us how to tell a Spanish Bread from the other bread. You joked, “Just ask ‘¿Cómo estás?’ and if it answered back, it is a Spanish Bread.” You laughed at your own silliness; I merely smirked at your facial expression.

I also remember your Final examination when you asked in the last item, for 5 points, about what sort of gift we would give you on your birthday. I said the photocopy of JK Rowling’s draft of Harry Potter. I said the photocopy only, since I’ll be keeping the original. You don’t know that I sniggered as my ink smeared the test paper with my abominable penmanship.

Yes, your class has been the coolest thing in my freshman year, yet it would have been ten notches cooler if you were able to hypnotized me with your sooper dee dooper amazing “Hand Levitation.” I felt bad that I was not affected by your ethereal voice or even the hair raising sounds of your windchimes as you ordered us to clear our minds and focus; to let go of all the mundane of the other classrooms. My classmates yelped in amazement as their hands remained standing on invisible air, withstanding any physical force to bend them low. Such a great power, and I felt even more bitter.

And I prepared my self to hate you, but I was unsuccessful. Maybe because you were really hilarious when you, one day, stood on top of the table and started stretching your arms and feet as you do the so-called “Shibashi”- the ancient art of deep breathing. You made us stand also as we stretched our arms and inhaled and exhaled audibly as you relate us the story, or rather the Nursery rhyme of the Malaking Siopao (Ultra Massive Steamed Dimsum). It was funny. It was liberating. It was funny and liberating to be ridiculous sometimes.

I read my term paper for the third time and so I concluded, you are the strangest, but in a good way, professor that I have ever had. Indeed nobody surpassed your uniqueness, not even the historian who bawled and sniffed as he told us about the People Power Revolution, or the ex-seminarian who cheerfully reminded us that cheating is only wrong when somebody caught you, or the young lady who joked that a comatose man who ejaculates after your diligent massage on his penis is not really under coma but is actually awake and is just pretending to be asleep.

I am nearing my retirement now as a college student and I swear you will be one of the reasons I will never forget my college life. Thank you.

Sincerely yours,