It is but natural for us to view our experiences in IHMS from our own personal point of view.
I remember the moment when my parents dropped me off at the seminary in 1976 when I was 12 years old. It was the entrance day—the very first day in what would later turn out to be 8 long years of stay in the seminary.
I remember looking for my locker, then my bed. I felt uneasy because I would be sharing a large dorm with more than 70 or 80 other teen-agers. I was not comfortable at all with the lack of privacy. At least, at home, I had a small room that I shared with my younger brother or sometimes with my grandmother, if she stayed overnight.
I was also uneasy about keeping my locker padlocked. Does that mean that I shouldn’t trust anybody around?
After arranging my pillows on the bed and covering it with a bed sheet, I looked out through the window, hoping my parents had left. But the car was still there parked near the mango tree. I wanted them to leave because seeing them made me think of packing my bags and going home with them. But somehow, I also wanted them to stay because I didn’t know what else to do but wait for the 5 o’clock when all visitor would be asked to leave and a welcome activity would begin. The interior struggle caused me to get angry at them for staying and at me for feeling that way.
My mother kept reminding me to keep my wallet secure. I told her it was inside my back pocket. Then she asked if I had arranged my things properly inside my locker. I said I would do it later when they leave and have more time. She wanted to do it herself. I told her no, that wouldn’t be necessary. You should fold your clothes properly, she said. I told her I knew what to do. Then she asked me a second time about my wallet, trying to make sure that it was indeed in my back pocket, and the key to my locker. She also asked me if the biscuits and the powdered Tang that I brought with me would last the entire the week. I assured her that it would. Be sure to eat well, she told me. I said I know. Where’s your dining? She asked. And I pointed towards the area at the end of the corridor. Then she got concerned about the pair of black pants whether I had enough for the week. She reminded me to hang the pants at the end of the so that it wouldn’t get rumpled. Do you want us to come back tomorrow? I got angry again saying that there was no need, that they shouldn’t fuss, and just leave, and that I can take care of my own. I assured them that anyway, we will be going home on Saturday and then on Sunday. So, they shouldn't worry.
My father did not speak until it was time for them to go. He asked if I had enough money. And I told him that I did and that I wouldn’t even money at all. You might get hungry. You might want to buy food from the canteen, he said. I told him that I have biscuits, that I will not get hungry. For in fact, I didn’t feel like eating that day. All I wanted was to go home. But I assured myself that it probably was just the first day jitters and that after a day or week, everything would be fine. I started to envy my classmates since it appeared to me that they were adjusting very well and some were already joking with each other like Oloy and Quiao and several others. I had former classmates in HSS, like Dindo, Ringkoy, Jecebu, Marclare, Rene and others but they were preoccupied in arranging their lockers and it seemed that they already had adjusted well, befriending the 2nd year seminarians and getting friendly with the priest-formators.
The loneliness I felt reached its height that very night, as we prepared for bed. Roy introduced himself to me and the twins, Moises and Prisco. When I lights were switched off at 10 o'clock and the Coca-Cola plant siren blared, my thoughts were of home and how unsound my decision was to enter the seminary. Still, I resolved to wait for a week and see what would happen. At that point, never had I an inkling that I would even last a week. A classmate cried for 2 days, then decided to leave. So, it was not embarrassing anymore to give up after 3 days. But I wanted to give it a week. When a week passed, I gave it one more week and another. Until, before I knew it, I had lasted a full year.
I never understood what my parents were going through when I entered. Neither did they know what I was going through. I only understood what was going on with me; I never understood theirs.
I gained a different perspective the first time my youngest son travelled without us. He was 13 years old when his Grade 8 class went for a 3-day, 2-night trip to Ottawa City. We dropped him off at the school auditorium where the rest of his classmates were waiting. He looked so small and fragile, carrying a small wheeled suitcase. He didn’t pay us much attention when he was with his classmates. In fact, he didn’t seem to want us to be around.
My wife was uneasy, worried. It was going to be her first time to sleep in the house without her youngest child. Does he have enough load on his cell phone? Does it have sufficient charge? Are you sure you can track his location? Have you re-checked? What if the battery dies? How much money did you give him? Is it in small bills? It is enough for 3 days? She kept asking me. I kept reassuring her.
Then she signaled to my kid about his cell phone, then about his wallet, then about his charger. My son was quiet all throughout. Then they were asked to take a seat inside the bus. We hugged him when he passed us, but he remained stoic, not speaking at all. He sat on a window seat and looked at us one more time while my wife continued to remind him via hand signal to never forget to pray. My kid looked irritated with the constant reminder. We stood there watching as the bus left and disappeared from view. Quietly, we went to the car and made our way home. She sent him a text message asking him to take care. He texted back that he would.
I finally understood what my parents went through when I entered IHMS. (--- nox arcamo)
