Back in Grade 3, I pulled off one of the most unforgettable childhood stunts of my life—an impulsive midday dip in the Dumlan river, right under the scorching sun. I can’t recall the exact date, but the memory is etched deep in my mind, especially because it earned me the wrath of our Grade 3 teacher.
For privacy’s sake, I won’t name names—but I wasn’t alone. After lunch, instead of heading straight back to school, two of my classmates and I made a secret pact: we’d sneak off for a quick swim before returning to class. The river had just been refreshed by a recent flood, and its waters were crystal clear, practically begging us to dive in.
Time slipped away faster than we expected. By the time we finished, it was already late afternoon—far too late to enter class without raising eyebrows. And going home wasn’t an option either; it wasn’t dismissal time yet. So we did what any mischievous kid would do: we hid behind the school, in a patch of cornfield that stretched like a leafy fortress.
But fate had other plans.
Some older students were tending their assigned garden plots nearby—each grade had its own vegetable patch back then—and they spotted us. Of course, they reported us to our teacher. We, in turn, burrowed deeper into the cornfield, hoping to vanish like shadows.
Our teacher, determined to flush us out, sent students to retrieve us. But we were too scared to face her fury, so we stayed hidden, crouched among the stalks like fugitives. When the search party returned empty-handed, someone from the upper classroom shouted, “The corn is moving!”
That was it. Our teacher launched a full-scale operation: whoever caught us would earn a reward. Suddenly, the cornfield turned into a chaotic running track. Students charged in from all directions, trampling stalks and rustling leaves, chasing us like we were prized prey.
Eventually, we were surrounded and captured.
Dragged back to the classroom, we stood before our classmates like war criminals. Our “reward”? A few stinging whacks on the palms with a guava branch. The punishment was swift, but the fame was lasting—we became legends for a day, and I got a double dose of scolding from my parents.
Looking back, I realize that kids will always be drawn to rivers, especially when the water is fresh and inviting. It’s a temptation hard to resist, and in our time, it was almost a rite of passage.
“Childhood will always chase the river—so teach it how to swim with wisdom, not just wonder.”
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