When I stepped into second grade at the age of eight, I already had my fair share of mischief. One particular day, I had no intention of going to school, but my mother insisted. Reluctantly, I rushed through my morning routine—quickly taking a bath, eating breakfast, and changing into my uniform.
After getting ready, I said goodbye to my mother and headed off to school.
Fifteen minutes later, I was back home. My mother was bewildered and immediately asked why I had returned so soon. She wondered if classes had been canceled, but she quickly noticed my soaked clothes.
“What happened? Why are you all wet?” she asked.
I responded with all the confidence in the world, “I tripped near the small creek and fell in.”
She sighed, then promptly made me take another bath and change into my old home clothes. Since I was already late, she declared that I wouldn’t be going to school anymore that day.
I was ecstatic!
But don’t ask me why I was so happy, because the real reason is quite something.
The day before, our teacher made an announcement—during our music class, everyone had to sing. And that, my friends, was the root of my troubles.
I had zero knowledge of any song, and even worse, my singing voice was so off-key that even the frogs would get startled if I tried to sing. My classmates were thrilled, teasing me about how they’d finally get to hear my “golden voice.”
Thankfully, I had managed to escape that day.
The next morning, I woke up early, feeling excited to go to school. Since our music lesson was over, I assumed I was safe.
When I arrived at school, we went through the usual flag ceremony and then entered the classroom. As soon as our teacher stepped in, my classmates started laughing and teasing, saying that Ma’am wouldn’t start the lesson until I sang.
Confidently, I told them, “Hey, music class was yesterday. We have a different subject today.”
But one of my classmates chimed in, “Ma’am said yesterday that we won’t start the lesson until Romel sings, since he was the only one absent during music class.”
Then Ma’am spoke. “Romel, your grade in music will be 75 if you don’t sing.”
The teasing continued, and my anxiety started building. My teacher stood her ground and refused to begin the class until I sang something. The pressure was unbearable—I was on the verge of tears!
“Romel, this will really affect your performance in my class. If you don’t sing, you might even fail music because I’ve already given you too many chances,” Ma’am warned.
At that moment, I realized I had no choice but to sing.
“But Ma’am, I don’t know any songs… I do know a poem, though,” I offered.
She shook her head. “That’s different. But you can try singing the poem if you want.”
That was when panic truly set in—I didn’t even have a poem memorized!
Left with no other option, I took a deep breath and sang the first thing that popped into my head. And guess what I sang?
I sang a traditional balitaw song called “Sanggot nga Bali”, inspired by the crooked sickle I had brought to school for our gardening activity.
The song ended. The day ended. But the teasing? That never ended—especially when the song reached my grandfather’s ears!
To this day, whenever my childhood friends bring up elementary school memories, someone always laughs out of nowhere because of the legendary “Sanggot nga Bali.”
And honestly? It’s the kind of embarrassment that’s too hilarious to regret!
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