How much of what I want is actually mine?

We like to think of our preferences as personal, something that we discover on our own as we age in this world. But what we find attractive, what we consider romantic, and even what we expect from a relationship are shaped long before we stop to question where they came from.

Dating is daringly a normal thing in high school. It's how we build relationships with "the one," but on many occasions we fail to ask why we chose that person. Is it family values? Looks? Social expectations?

Oftentimes, we view monogamy, marriage, gender roles, romance and the like as natural defaults. We humans, however, inherit a template for what a relationship should look like, and use that template in our judgment.

For the record, this template isn't definite. Modern media doesn't create expectations from nothing. It reinforces and even shapes the standard.

Now, in our very digital age, social media and the internet in general can turn certain behaviors, personalities, lifestyles, and relationship dynamics into aspirational norms by repeatedly rewarding them with attention.

So, what happens when that something becomes popular and starts becoming the norm? People imitate it—the more it gathers attention, the more it is seen, repeated, and eventually normalized.

Once upon a time, "67" was just a number. A song and internet culture gave it a new association; repetition turned that association into a recognizable piece of slang. If the internet can do that with a number, what can it do with our ideas about relationships?

Or let's move from "67" to K-drama. Repeated exposure to the same faces, fashion, and mannerisms makes certain traits familiar. And familiarity can quietly shape what we notice and find appealing.

Media influences our standards of attraction through repetition, not brainwashing. We begin to find people attractive because their look is constantly depicted.

Now add dating apps into the equation. Your preferences are turned into a collection of data points and then into choices: appearance, age, where you live, height, occupation, interests. A digital profile of you is presented to the rest of the world, while other people are reduced to the information you can see on a screen.

Those values are then used to organize you to filter and match you according to those preferences. This is how algorithms work. A 2025 study on swiping behavior found that a user's physical attractiveness remains the single strongest predictor of whether they get swiped right, ahead of job, bio, or any other trait.

That doesn't prove our preferences are built rather than chosen, but it's a hard pattern to write off as coincidence. Who you ignore, swipe on, interact with, and even how long you pause on the screen—all audited to cater to your interests and can influence what the app shows you.

A 2025 study on trust in dating algorithms found that the fear of missing out on a better match drives users toward excessive swiping and decision fatigue, and that this fatigue, in turn, makes people trust the algorithm's judgment even more.

But why do these companies want me to keep swiping?

The app isn't only trying to predict what I want. It's also designed to keep me engaged with the product.

Remember that dating apps are not just a social platform, they're also a business— The longer you interact with the platform, the more behavioral data they can collect; user behavior has commercial value, and platforms can use collected data for advertising, personalization, analytics, or other commercial purposes, depending on their policies.

The app's design also keeps you uncertain about the next swipe. Is it a potential match? New text? Notifications, reminders, and flashy design contribute the thrill of anticipation.

The problem is not simply that dating apps know what I like, but that they can use what they learn to keep me searching, creating a cycle where my preferences shape what I see, and what I see can shape my preferences in return.

That does not make dating apps inherently bad. They can still help people meet others they would have never encountered otherwise, and the preferences we develop through these platforms are not automatically artificial. The influence of an algorithm does not erase our ability to choose.

Perhaps the danger isn't in falling in love with the wrong person. It could be that it's falling in love with the idea of who that person is supposed to be. And if I do fall in love with an idea, how much of it is really, truly mine?

I felt like such a fool, thinking and thinking about what she'd say to me this time. I lost my appetite for lunch. I was almost sure it was going to be another fiery sermon. The day before yesterday,[^1] she nearly pulled out her calculator to show me how "stupid" I was and how accurate her addition of my "5s" was. Then she moved on to my absences, then my lates. It wasn't reasonable to argue, "How can I not get a 5 when you give quizzes whenever I'm absent? When I'm too lazy to recite, that's when you force me. And when I say what I really want to say, you reach for the red ballpen."

But her mood in class earlier seemed good. In fact, we talked about her favorite topic: her "dazzling Malaysian"[^2] and her favorite perfume. She also gossiped (as usual). About how Mr. Espejo grew old a bachelor because she turned him down twice when she was still single. About how Miss Whatshername wasn't in school not because of study leave, but because she went to America for an abortion. The bell was about to ring when she remembered our lesson on the normalization process in government.

She said earlier, “For us to become fully democratic, we need a high literacy rate.” (Rizal already said that.) “The government must have an adequate communication system and the citizens must have high morality. And above all, our standards must not become westernized. By so doing, we won't become uncivilized by western standards.”

When she called on me, I said we should take a more basic approach to the problem. For example, why not start with the country's economic condition? If people are content, the government runs normally. But if many are dissatisfied, naturally the system becomes abnormal. It's not just about an effective communication process or a high literacy rate. These are only manifestations of the real problem. She was taken aback. That's when the bell cut us off.

Ay, the vexations of life, they make me want to run a fever. How far apart yesterday and today are. When I'm at home, I'm the star. When my townmates tell stories, I'm the famous one. But here in school, there's no iskolar ng bayan[^3] to be found.

I really want to quit, but Tatay[^4] won't let me. Of course. What father would be happy to have a dropout for a child? I'm sick of being tied to my teachers' shoelaces, dragged along with their every step. Turn whatever corner they want, go left even if you want to go right, get dragged along even if you want to rest. And get kicked even when you're the one who's hurt.[^5]

Ay, student life. Just to get a "1," you'd swallow your own tongue. Go against them and it's a clear-cut 5. Nod along to get a "1," and it's yourself you have to fool. It's all about getting along. A little compromise, a little nodding and “yes ma’am.” That's worth a "2" or a "3." Why did diplomas ever become a fad in this world? Without a diploma, who would believe I have a future? If grades hadn't come into fashion, I wouldn't be ashamed to work even as a Metro Manila Aide, sweeping the streets. But even if I graduate and they ask for experience when I apply, I'm still done for. And if I do graduate, it would be shameful to have to put up with even jobs meant for the poor.

It's just grades. Is that really a problem? "1" if it's "1," "5" if it's "5," end of discussion. Why drag it out? Fail if you fail. Kick-out if kick-out. But I shouldn't really be failing. Okay, they say I'm hard-headed, rugged, and a bit rude, but why bring conduct and grooming into the discussion? This isn't a military school, and it isn't a seminary. Why is it always "Your conduct" and "your appearance" that they use to scare us?

What's so bad about failing? Recto was a bar flunker, but he's one of the most respected constitutionalists today. Einstein failed Physics and grammar school, but he became a big-time scientist. Even his teacher back then didn't know about his theory of relativity. Of course, I'm neither Recto nor Einstein. I'm just Jojo, who counts for nothing if you ask my teachers. At home, they say I'm bright, especially if you ask Tatay. To our neighbors, I'm one of a kind. Imagine, in our province, I'm the only one who made it to Manila to study for free. If only they knew.

Study, study, study. Study in the morning, study at noon, and study again at night. I don't even understand what all this studying is for. They never run out of things to make us research. All they know how to ask is “what is our lesson today?” They're like gods with a monopoly on being right. So you can't question them, and you certainly can't tell them they're wrong.

Ay, teachers of the world, why were you ever made by some brute? Like Mrs. Moral Character: before starting a lesson, she'll first give a sermon on the virtue of honesty, about how cheating is bad, how it's a mortal sin to give a classmate the answer when he forgot it in a panic, how using secret signals[^6] is a crime, and so on. It seems she knows everything bad and forbidden in the world. But we've found out her secret. During the last referendum, our morally upright teacher suddenly went blind and stupid. When she served as a watcher at the precinct, she only knew how to read three letters.[^7] Her reasoning was, “What's wrong with that? Even if we lose, we still win. Why, what can you do about it?” That's why she's no longer Mrs. Moral Character to us, just Mrs. Eraser.

Then they have the nerve to wonder who we take after.

Who among them could we possibly make our idol?

My English teacher doesn't care about the world. As long as she can use what she knows about voice and diction, she's happy in life. As for us, our only role is to be listeners to her asides. We're like her therapy. And her favorite topic is her ancestor who was supposedly pure Spanish and built a church in their town. Antique, of course, that church (like her and her grandfather). She just wants to show off that she has blue blood. I'd love to blurt out that the Spaniards who came here back then were hooligans and criminals in Spain. Rather than be a problem for their own government, they let the Philippines suffer the burden. That's the system she inherited from her grandfather: to burden the long-suffering. Our Math teacher has a different gimmick. If he catches you unprepared for our lesson, you're in for it. He'll say, “What? You still don't know that until now? OK. That's your assignment for tomorrow.” Then he punctuates it by erasing whatever is wrong on the blackboard.

Hassle a person every day and then wonder why he turns into a fool. You can't even blow off steam, and you can't even have fun. If, while enduring all the hassle, you pick cigarettes and beer to vent your bad feelings, there they are, quick to rationalize, “Didn't I tell you vices are bad for studying?”

As for vices, they say alcohol and nicotine are bad for the human body. As if to say that once you're a teacher, it's fine. Because you're still a student, endure it. Ask Mr. Discipline and he knows the answer perfectly. Don't even ask whether he went through childhood too, whether he was also a fool back then, because he'll answer, “That's exactly why I don't want you to pick up vices. I've been through that.”

In our barkada,[^8] two of us will be saying goodbye-my-school goodbye. I'm being kicked out for my so-called foolishness. Minyong is being kicked out for his so-called stupidity.

How they determined that we should indeed be driven out of our beloved school went like this, according to the conversation among Mrs. Moral Character (Eraser), Mrs. Gles-ing, Mr. Mathematician, Miss Spermatozoa, Mr. Discipline, and others.

“It’s not ‘korum,’ say quorum, ‘kwow,’ quo-rum.[^9] I feel though he is brilliant, only my reservations is that….”

“Only he is stubborn. He’ll come to my class after drinking, as if to provoke you, getting up close. He’ll make you smell his breath.”

“How true, how true, I swear to God that’s true.”

“Not only that, sometimes he even likes to pester me in class, as if he'll catch me unprepared for my lesson. So I pile him with research work, and he backs off.”

“And he is always absent. Sometimes I don’t want to give him an excuse slip anymore.”

“So what is the verdict of the group?”

“I cannot pass him.”

“Me too.”

“I second the motion.”

“God will punish his naughtiness.”

“I will report the matter to his parents immediately.”

What's worse is the accusation against Minyong. They say he's going crazy. They love gossiping about him, that is, unless they're the ones being hit by what Minyong says. When a co-teacher they find annoying gets hit, all they say is “Hi-hi-hi-hi.” When Minyong hits the bull's-eye, “My God, he's really crazy, he doesn't know what he's saying,” is their excuse.

Minyong is a “cultural minority.” The guy never volunteered to study here in Manila. They fetched him from the mountains, then talked him into believing that here he'd learn how to lift his tribe out of poverty, and now they'll just kick him out. They call him stupid. They gave him one chance. They made him speak, supposedly to sharpen his skills so his inferiority complex would disappear. Well, once the guy learned to speak, they were shocked to hear the truth.

The king’s faction said:

“I find him kinda weird lately.”

“Definitely I cannot pass him.”

“That’s right. We’d be setting a bad precedent. Stupidity would become fashionable in school. Remember, this is the Philippine School for Science and Technology, and we’re going to pass a stupid student? Impossible.”

“But he’s a cultural minority.”

“And so?”

“We should lower our standards for him.”

“Excuse me? There’s only one standard of excellence and no exceptions.”

“What now?”

“What else? Fail him.”

Then they chorused, “Fail him!”

Then again, by the time Minyong's case was reported in school, they had more or less already settled on how the story would end. It went like this:

“Have you considered his case lately?”

“What shall we do with him? Do we have a policy for such cases?”

“It might be better to send him back to his tribe.”

“We should. He might hurt someone and drag many others in.”

“Oh, how I abhor violence.”

“He might even start fires, you know. Fires are all the rage in Manila these days.”

“What if we have him confined in a mental hospital?”

“And who will shoulder the bill?”

And that was the end of Minyong's case, even before deliberation began.

They're not always that quick to hand down verdicts. Sometimes they're “humane,” so to speak. Like in the cases of Osias and Armando, also schoolmates of ours.

“Let’s pass Osias.”

“But he’s low in Physics.”

“Come on, your class is really difficult.”

“That boy is thoughtful. Wherever you see him, it’s always ‘good morning.’”

“True. And he offers to help right away when he sees you carrying a lot of things.”

“True.”

“How about Armando? Another cultural minority?”

“Excuse me. He is not a thoroughbred minority. It is only the mother. The father is an Ilocano who migrated to Mountain Province.”

“That kid is so sweet. Takes after his father.”

“Pogi,[^10] really.”

“You bet. His father turns out to be a doctor.”

“I’ll pass him. The only reason his grades are low is that he was absent for so long. He got sick, after all.”

“So, are these two passing?”

“Approve.”

It's really hard in this world when you don't have a pogi father or a doctor for a dad.

“Come on in. Sit down,” said Mrs. Moral Character after I knocked and was let into her cubicle. I found her stacking books.

“I called you for two reasons. Regarding our lesson and your attitude.”

Here we go again, I thought to myself. Why didn't I just get sick? If only my fever had pushed through, I wouldn't have had to show up, and I'd have avoided the sermon lying in wait.

“Jojo, people are not just stomachs, like you want to make it seem,” she said, one eyebrow raised.

Don't make a sound, I told myself. Bear with it a little. It's hard to argue with a teacher. Just smile. She'll stop when she tires out. But it looked like she had no plan to shorten her sermon.

“What you said earlier has no essence. That is an example of an a priori statement. Do you get me?”

I nodded.

“Good. Now you probably know that you have no data to back you up, which I happen to have. All you do is spout speculations that have no meaning in the scientific world. Our lesson is more complicated than you thought. What you probably mean is the role of economic determinism in contemporary Philosophy, which is altogether wrong. Why don’t you use the power or elite approach? Behaviorism is the trend now in the west. Why don’t you follow suit?”

Don't pay attention, just smile, I reminded myself again. Let her talk and talk. Sooner or later, she'll run out of things to say. In one ear, out the other. She's the teacher, so she feels like she's the only one who can be right.

“Do you get me?”

I nodded again. And now, part II of her sermon.

“To be honest with you, I don’t like your attitude in class. Smart aleck!”

I just bowed my head. Then I mumbled, “I’m sorry, ma’am.”

Even without looking at her, I knew she was nodding with delight. Her ears were secretly clapping with joy. She had tamed the school's resident rebel. If only I were as “honest” as she is, I could have said, “The feeling is mutual. I also don’t like you, ma’am.” Instead, all I said was, “Can I go now, ma’am?”

“I’m not yet through.” Meaning there was still a part III to this conversation.

“They saw you in the chapel last night.”

Diyos ko,[^11] so now they're meddling even in my personal life, I thought. I could feel the heat of her stare on my face.

“How young are you, Jojo? Speak up.”

I don't owe her any explanation. I won't answer.

“Speak up, I said.”

“Seventeen.”

“Seventeen and already you are…”

Like it or not, I'd heard enough. I stood up to leave. Before I could take a step, she tacked on more to her sermon.

“I’ll let your mother know about this.”

I really wanted to go berserk. I wanted to turn back on her. I wanted to fling all my resentment at the world in her face. I wish I were as brave as I wanted to be. What was wrong with what I did in the chapel? Tess and I only held hands. Is that wrong? Maybe what was wrong was why Mrs. Glesing suddenly decided to take a stroll in the chapel at that hour of the night. Poor Tess. I'm almost certain Mrs. Moral Character will make her an example again of what a female student should not become. And Mrs. Glesing, for sure, almost had her tongue go up her nose from barking out her scoop.[^12]

What else can I do but punch the air again and whisper “someday.” If I go crazy like Minyong, they probably won't enjoy it, but I'm sure they'll wonder why.

My barkada of teasers was in the lobby.

“Jo, we heard you’re the bida[^13] again.”

“Leave those brutes alone, they’ll get tired of it eventually,” I said.

“If you two had gone to a motel, then they wouldn’t know anything.”

“Stop it,” I said.

“What did you two really do that got Mrs. Glesing spitting fire[^14] in our class this morning?”

“What else could I do in a chapel? Even if you had magic, no miracle would happen there,” I said.

“Why don’t you court Mrs. Glesing?”

“You jerk, you're another one.” Damn this life, I'm being teased again.

“Who knows, maybe she’s got some Mrs. Robinson in her.” Then they burst out laughing. I ended up laughing too, even though I was sick of everything.

“Let’s just go to Cubao,” I told them.

ONE ROUND of beer was followed by another and another. Then topped off with one-for-the-road. As fast as the bottles emptied, so did the time.

“What did you really do in the chapel?”

“What else, holding hands, of course. Is that wrong? We just swore before the altar that we wouldn’t part even if I got kicked out. Is that obscene? Why are their minds so dirty? As if they never held hands when they were young.”

“Then how did they become human?”

“Just by looking at each other, they got pregnant.”

Then they burst out laughing. Good for them, they're happy somehow. Me, even when I'm having fun, my teachers are still what I see. This is too much. Why won't they let anyone see truths different from the ones they grew up with? Why do they want everyone in the world to look just like them? Is it because they think they discovered the mine of intelligence and correctness, so there's nothing left for us to discover? But isn't what they call expertise, twenty years in service, just one year of experience stretched over twenty?

I just thought of this now. If Beethoven were alive and took an exam in school, whether as a student or a teacher, he certainly wouldn't be accepted. This is the Philippine School for Science and Technology, the school of future scientists, and they'd treat as a person, and take seriously, someone who is not only too lazy to dress properly but rarely bathes?

Einstein? He was a genius, but he didn't comb his hair. He'd be kicked out too. Long hair is forbidden in school. Mr. Discipline would surely tell him, “Comply with school requirements. Maximum tolerable haircut please.” Meaning shave the nape. Shape the top like a teaspoon.[^15]

How about Hemingway? He wouldn't work either, a man of vices. Drunkards are not allowed in class. And Maxim Gorky, the great Russian writer according to Chekhov and Tolstoy, could he teach comparative literature here? I don't think so either. Besides having no units in English, he has no diploma in Education.

What about Christ, if he came back to life and went to Science? They say he was a Teacher even without an M.A. or Ph.D. Would they even let him through the gate? Impossible. If Mrs. Moral Character or Mrs. Glesing ran into him there, they might get shocked. I think they'd say something like this: “Imagine, such nerve, and such crude appearance. Long hair, doesn’t shave, and wearing sandals. So what if he’s the son of God, he has no sense of de-quo-rum.” And if Christ preached here, he'd probably just be exposed with, “Who is your authority, where is your data, behavioralism is the trend now in the West, why don’t you follow suit?” Maybe that's why he picked a manger as his birthplace, because if he'd been born in Science, the history of Christianity in the world would have changed.

Ay, sense of propriety and de-quo-rum, truly dizzying. Clean cut (make Einstein comb his hair). White polo and black pants (make Christ look decent). I wonder if propriety is also what teachers call it when they wear civilian clothes on Wednesdays. As if they're attending a party. The kind where the type of fabric is noticed right away and people say, “Ay, so beautiful, where did you buy it? It must be expensive, right?” And the other answers, “It’s cheap, just a hundred pesos a yard (eight dollars is now the equivalent of a peso).[^16] Christian Dior, that’s original, not Rustan’s-made.” And to really get noticed, they have to be fragrant with perfume. Like a painting (surreal style). Then they load their ears, neck, chest, arms, and fingers with diamonds. In their “beauty” and “sparkle,” you'd think you were looking at a Christmas tree on a Mahal na Araw[^17] (Holy Week, though mahal also means “expensive”). That's what's proper to them.

Then again, they can no longer make that out. The night Mrs. English caught Tess and me, that's when I first really noticed how Christ is made to look. They say he was insulted by the Jews, so they nailed him naked to the cross. But the Mrs. Moral Characters, Mrs. Englishes, Mr. Mathematicians, and Mr. Disciplines and their whole tribe are insulted by nakedness. That's probably why they covered Christ's nakedness with velvet glittering with baubles.[^18] The Virgin Mary was supposedly the wife of a lowly carpenter, but in her present appearance she looks like a peacock and a Christmas tree too. Even her tears were turned into pearls.

What they can't be like, they pick on right away. It's the person who believes in himself whom they want to desecrate. Who is Jojo to them anyway, just “a nobody.” When they were students, did they pass Science? Were they scholars too? But why did they just end up as teachers for so long? Is that all they know in life, teaching? It's as if they were never children. As if when they were born they already knew everything. Maybe they think being a student is a joke. Was their conduct in class back then all "1s"? If they really never make mistakes, this should be reported right away to the Holy Pope in Rome. Turns out the living saints are all here in the Philippines.

What's left for us to meddle in? Where can I ever be the bida in this world? At least in the referendum, we were included. Imagine, the fate of the Philippines can be gambled on, but who's sexier, Alma Moreno or Elizabeth Oropesa, we're not allowed to decide. That's “for adults” only.

Oops. Thinking this hard is making me need to take a leak.[^19] My barkada has moved on to another topic.

“Why don’t we put thumbtacks on Mrs. English’s chair?”

“She’ll go ‘Aray!’ but when she remembers her poise, she’ll say, ‘Oh, I mean outch!’”[^20]

“Hi hi hi hi.”

Good for them, they can still manage a snicker. But me, who can I complain to? Should I write to Valencia, the “Over a Cup of Coffee” columnist?[^21] Maybe he'd just answer me with, “Have a cup of coffee.” How about Marcos? He has a mountain of problems. Imagine, he has to worry about the fate of the Philippines, and someday he'll have to answer for it in history. How would he ever notice me? Should I report to Carter? This is a human rights issue too, the plight of students tormented by sadists, but it's hard to speak English. Besides, he's only interested in wars they're losing.

Should I just write to God? But he's supposedly in every place and corner, so he surely already knows my problem. By the way, why wasn't there a “Blessed are the poor students for they shall inherit…” in the Sermon on the Mount? Maybe because he had no heaven or earth left to bequeath to anyone else.

I don't want to become Minyong. I have to speak up or I might go crazy. I don't want to become a robot, I don't want to become a stone. I don't mind being a dropout, as long as I stay human. The comfort room is too small to write my complaints in. Many have come before me. “What you’re holding now is the future of the Fatherland.” “If you can reach this high, you shall be great.” “Down with fascism.” “LABAN.”[^22] “Damn you all.” “Alpha Phi Omega.” “Wanted pen pal.”

I'll complain to the wall too if I have to, until someone reads and hears my complaint. But for now, I'll just take a leak and let my resentment flow out.

[^1]: Kamakalawa is the Tagalog word for "the day before yesterday."

[^2]: The original is 'Yung kanyang dazzling Malaysian, and the noun is left out. It sits beside "her favorite perfume" in a list of the teacher's pet topics. It can be interpreted as either as a Malaysian suitor or as something Malaysian she owns or wears, such as a fabric, jewel, or fragrance. No authoritative gloss was found, so the phrase is kept as written.

[^3]: Iskolar ng bayan ("scholar of the people") is the Filipino term for a state-subsidized student, and Jojo is playing on it.

[^4]: Tatay is the Filipino word for "Father" or "Dad."

[^5]: The original word, isinipa, means "kicked," so the line is not "trampled."

[^6]: Magkodigo means using secret codes or signals to cheat.

[^7]: Probably "Y-E-S," the answer the teacher read out from the referendum ballot regardless of what it said.

[^8]: Barkada means a close group of friends or peers.

[^9]: The teacher's earlier fumbling over "quorum" (korum / kwow) is echoed later when she mangles "decorum" into "de-quo-rum," so the joke is kept in both places.

[^10]: Pogi means "handsome," used for a good-looking man.

[^11]: Diyos ko means "My God."

[^12]: A "scoop" is a piece of juicy gossip. The original phrasing is "commanding her scoop," rendered here as "barking out."

[^13]: Bida means the star or hero of the story. Here it means the one at the center of attention, usually for trouble.

[^14]: The original is pumuputok ang butsi (literally "the gizzard bursts"), a Filipino idiom for being furious. "Spitting fire" carries the same meaning. Alternatives are "blow her top," or the literal "gizzard" with a translator's note.

[^15]: A teaspoon-shaped top is the closest rendering of the original image, rather than a "bowl cut."

[^16]: The line follows the source literally. The actual rate at the time was roughly eight pesos to the dollar, so the figures may need to be flipped.

[^17]: Mahal na Araw is Holy Week. Mahal also means "expensive," which is the pun.

[^18]: The original words are pelus (velvet) and borloloy (baubles or gaudy trinkets), rather than "cloth with sequins."

[^19]: Idi-jingle is slang for urinating. It sets up the comfort-room scene and the ending.

[^20]: The joke is that the teacher's reflex "Aray!" (Tagalog for "ouch") gets swapped for an overly proper "outch" once she remembers her poise.

[^21]: Teodoro Valencia wrote a newspaper column titled "Over a Cup of Coffee." The coffee joke makes sense only with this context.

[^22]: Laban means "fight," and it was a popular rallying cry in the Marcos-era opposition.

This “trend” started as early as 2021, but has then resurfaced, due to the Cornell Seven allegations. I will not be talking about them, however; as this is an opinion piece about “slacktivism.”

Look, there is nothing wrong with advocating anti-rape. My stance? You have to blame the perpetrator. Always. Male or female. I literally do NOT care about gender. My concern goes more to AGE.

But this trend takes a serious issue and waters it down to “pro or anti.” People get glued into semantics, salading our words into something completely opposite of what we said, and treating a repost like a fucking morality test.

“It doesn’t hurt to repost.”

Okay. And what does it actually do for a victim-survivor?

Does it get them medical care? Counseling? Help them report? Protect a child? Hold a perpetrator accountable?

No.

It gets engagement from you.

This is selfish work wrapped as advocacy.

If you want to use your free speech to talk about rape, fucking talk about rape. Talk about perpetrators, consent, protecting children, and supporting victim-survivors. Share actual resources. Do something useful.

And yes, in a court of law, there should be no presumption of guilt. An accusation is not a conviction. Evidence and due process matter.

But Instagram isn't a courtroom. You're free to speak. So use that freedom wisely.

I’m not reposting it.

I’m donating $10 to RAINN instead.

It’s not much. I know that. But I’d rather put money toward an organization that actually supports survivors than put my engagement toward a post telling me to prove I’m against rape.

If we're going to say we care, then let's actually fucking care.

To support survivors of sexual violence, please consider donating to RAINN at https://rainn.org/. Individuals facing violence may find local assistance through Find a Helpline. Those in the Philippines may also consult the VAWC hotline directory of the PCW.

There are dozens of blog posts comparing free Minecraft server hosting. Almost none of them are written from Southeast Asia. This one is.

I'm a paying Minecraft server user. I know what good hosting looks like. These free platforms don't get extra credit just for existing — they get scored against a real rubric, tested from Davao Oriental, Philippines, on fixed broadband infrastructure that has improved significantly since pre-COVID. Not Manila. Not BGC. A provincial connection that's more representative of where most Filipino players actually are.

The Rubric

Every platform was scored on seven categories, each out of 5, for a maximum of 35 points. Cold start times carry a queue penalty on top of the base score.

Categories:

• How "free" is free (including ad experience)
• Geyser / Java–Bedrock parity
• Server software and compatibility
• Cold start time
• SEA availability and latency
• Control panel and UX
• Idle and uptime behavior

Ground rules:

• Fresh account, fresh world, no prior familiarity assumed
• PaperMC, latest stable build, every platform
• Cold start clock begins at the moment I click Start — queue included — and stops when the console confirms the server is joinable
• All latency results reflect a single ISP on fixed broadband in Davao Oriental. Results will vary across providers and locations. This is one data point, not a verdict on Philippine internet as a whole
• Adblock disabled for all testing, including the control panel — not just the landing page

Glossary

TPS (Ticks Per Second)

Minecraft's clock runs at 20 ticks per second. Each tick processes everything on the server — movement, mobs, redstone, weather. Stable 20.00 TPS is perfect. Below 15, the game breaks down.

MSPT (Milliseconds Per Tick)

How long each tick takes to process. Under 50ms is healthy. A high max MSPT means the server spiked — one tick took much longer than normal.

Ping / Latency

Round-trip time between your game and the server, in milliseconds. Under 100ms is comfortable. 200–300ms is playable. Above 400ms, the game starts fighting you.

Ping 95th Percentile

The worst ping 95% of the time. More honest than the average — it shows how bad normal play actually gets at its worst moments.

Packet Loss

Data that never arrives. Causes rubber-banding, inventory desyncs, and disconnections. Worse than high latency because lost data has to be re-sent.

GC (Garbage Collection)

Java periodically cleans up unused memory. During a GC event the server pauses briefly. Frequent or long GC events cause lag spikes even when TPS looks fine.

Spark

A Minecraft server profiling plugin that collects all the above data during a live session. Every platform here was profiled under identical conditions — fresh world, PaperMC, no plugins, 10–15 minute session.

IP Address

A numerical address identifying a server on the internet. Your game connects to this to reach the server.

DNS (Domain Name System)

Translates a server address like play.example.com into an IP address your game can use. Switching to Cloudflare's 1.1.1.1 or Google's 8.8.8.8 can improve routing — it won't fix a bad server location, but it can soften the impact.

Routing

The path your data takes between your device and the server. A bad route adds latency that has nothing to do with the server's actual performance.

Node

A physical machine in a data center that runs your Minecraft server. Which node you land on directly affects your ping.

ISP (Internet Service Provider)

The company providing your internet — Globe, PLDT, Converge, Sky. Your ISP determines your routing paths.

Subdomain

A prefix on a domain — like soquincy.qzz.io. Free platforms assign these automatically so your server address is shareable without exposing a raw IP.

Proxy

An intermediary server between your connection and the game server. Generally doesn't affect gameplay meaningfully.

VPN (Virtual Private Network)

Routes your traffic through a server elsewhere, changing your apparent location. Used in this test on PlayHosting specifically to isolate whether poor ping was a routing problem or a platform problem. It was routing.

DDoS Protection

Filters fake traffic floods before they knock your server offline.

PaperMC

A high-performance Minecraft server software used as the baseline for every platform in this test.

Geyser / Floodgate

Geyser is a plugin that lets Bedrock Edition players — on mobile, console, or Windows — join a Java Edition server. Floodgate removes the requirement for Bedrock players to have a Java account.

Pterodactyl

An open-source game server control panel. If a hosting platform's UI looks like Pterodactyl, it probably is — or is built on top of it.

Geo-restriction

When a platform limits access based on your country or region. FalixNodes applies this to free server starts without disclosing it before signup.

Shared CPU / Shared Resources

Your server runs on hardware shared with other users. Standard on free hosting plans.

RAM (Memory)

How much working memory your server has. Free plans typically offer 1–1.7GB.

Platform 1: Minekeep (minekeep.net)

The one that just worked.

Login was straightforward with no ads on the dashboard. Server setup was clean — picking PaperMC from the dropdown was simple, and build #129 for 1.21.11 was the latest stable option available. You can toggle your server between public and private, though all servers are proxied regardless.

The free plan:

• 1GB RAM
• 10 player slots
• 10GB storage
• Shared CPU
• No playtime limits
• No region selection on the free tier. You land on their EU node in Germany, or their NA node in Ashburn — no choice given. For SEA users, that means distance is baked in.

Geyser: Pre-installed. Not in an addons page, not a manual process — pre-installed. Bedrock client connection confirmed working.

Cold start:

• Run 1: 45s 16ms
• Run 2: 38s 63ms
• Average: ~41.5 seconds

Consistent across both runs. That consistency matters as much as the number itself.

Spark Data for Minekeep

TPS is essentially perfect. MSPT median is healthy. Memory utilization at idle is the lowest of any platform tested. The server is not the bottleneck — the Germany node is just far away.

System note: Physical memory on the node sat at 78.6% during the test. Worth monitoring under actual player load.

Ads: None. Zero. Not on the dashboard, not on the console, not on any action.

Console: Full text console with direct command input.

Platform 2: Aternos (aternos.org)

The veteran that's starting to show its age.

The legend itself, Aternos. Every broke kid's saviour for a mini-SMP.

Login was simple. First-party ads for Exaroton (their paid product) appear immediately — relatively benign compared to what came later, but upselling is on every surface. They offer arcade game modes like parkour and arena on setup, which I skipped. PaperMC requires a manual reinstall via dropdown — it's not the default.

Geyser and Floodgate are both available in the addons section. Aternos bundles them together, which is the right call.

There's a RAM boost available via a Medal sponsorship. I did not take it.

Cold start:

• Run 1: 1m 0s 07ms
• Run 2: 26s 91ms
• Average: ~43.5 seconds — but the variance is the real story

A 34-second gap between runs means you can't predict what a new user gets. Run 1 was likely queue or node spin-up influenced. Run 2 is fast. Neither is guaranteed.

Spark Data for Aternos

TPS looks clean on paper. But that MSPT max of 218ms is not a blip — it's a spike, and I felt it during the session. GC Young averaging 38.4ms per collection is significantly worse than Minekeep's 15.1ms. The garbage collector is working harder.

Memory at 87% utilization on idle with no players is tight. A few active players would push that further.

The console situation: There is no text console. It's GUI-only. For anyone who needs to run commands quickly, that's a real limitation and a step down from every other platform in this test.

Ads: First-party Exaroton ads throughout. Third-party ads appeared in the console area. One of those is annoying. Both together is hostile.

Physical location: Never disclosed. Ping suggests US East or a well-routed EU node — 227ms median is actually the best of the testable platforms from Davao Oriental.

Platform 3: FalixNodes (falixnodes.net)

Blocked at the door.

Onboarding is polished. More options than Minekeep upfront — MOTD, game mode, difficulty all configurable during setup. You can pick from a list of subdomains. The platform markets itself heavily on hardware specs: Ryzen 9 7950X3D, DDR5 RAM, NVMe storage, enterprise DDoS protection.

An adblock detector triggered despite uBlock being disabled. Switching from Firefox to Vivaldi resolved it — the detector failed to correctly identify that adblock was already off. The platform couldn't detect my browser extension properly, but had no trouble detecting my country.

Because when I hit Start:

[Falix]: Server is starting up... [Falix]: Server is starting up... [Falix]: Server starts are not available in your region on the free plan. Please upgrade to a paid plan to start your server.

That's a hard regional block. No warning before signup. No map. No country list. Their free hosting page states "Data centers across Europe, North America, South America, Asia, and Australia" — but gives zero specifics on which countries can actually start a free server. Their FAQ references an eligibility list that supposedly lives on the free hosting page. It doesn't exist.

A VPN does not bypass this either.

You complete full onboarding, pick your settings, and hit a wall. For a Filipino user — or any Southeast Asian user — FalixNodes' free plan does not exist.

Platform 4: freemcserver.net

Banned for nothing.

No SSO login. Manual signup only. Before you get anywhere, a consent wall with 919 vendors greets you — no "deny all" button, so opting out requires manually disabling legitimate interest claims one by one. That alone tells you how this platform treats its users.

Choosable server regions: EU (Finland) and Canada. I picked Finland.

On selecting Paper 1.21.11, an unprompted offer appeared for a "performance boost" — an additional 200MB RAM bringing the total to 1.7GB, tied to a Paper version selection. A Tebex sponsor integration was also offered during setup. Both declined.

Server creation took 15 seconds. Then:

"Server Expiration: 3 hours, 58 minutes, 58 seconds. Server will expire after this timer runs out regardless if there are players or not. Renew the server to keep it online."

A 4-hour hard expiry timer — on active servers, with active players — never disclosed before or during signup. That is a core feature limitation buried after onboarding.

Then, before I could run a single test:

"You have been banned. Reason: Usage of VPN (VA-VPN)"

"You can not appeal a ban that was issued less than 1 hour ago. Please wait a bit and try again."

I was not using a VPN. The ban was a false positive — likely triggered by my ISP's IP range or a previous user on the same connection. The platform's own rules explicitly prohibit VPNs, which is a reasonable policy. Wrongfully flagging a legitimate user and then blocking appeal for an hour is not.

Third-party ads were visible before the ban even landed.

Platform 5: Play Hosting

The best hardware in the test. The worst routing from the province.

Simple email signup, no SSO, no verification required. There's a queue to start — present but not long enough to be maddening. The UI is Pterodactyl-based, which anyone familiar with paid hosting will recognize immediately. It's clean, functional, and doesn't require a tutorial.

Geyser is offered as an auto-install option during Paper setup. I may have missed the button — either way, it didn't pre-configure. Manual installation was required, which is a known issue documented in their own docs. It works, but it's not seamless.

Cold start:

• Run 1: 17s 33ms
• Run 2: 15s 57ms
• Average: ~16.5 seconds

The fastest cold start in the entire test. It's not close.

Spark data for Play Hosting (VPN)

The server itself is the best performer in this test — perfect TPS, lowest MSPT median, healthy memory. But that 95th percentile ping of 9,180ms is not lag. That's the connection momentarily dying.

The VPN reduced catastrophic spikes significantly — 9,000ms+ became 1,300ms. Median barely moved. This confirms the issue is SEA routing, not the platform. And especially not a hardware problem.

A DNS change (Cloudflare's 1.1.1.1 or Google's 8.8.8.8) may also reduce routing issues for SEA players. It's a two-minute fix — but it's a fix that shouldn't be necessary, and most casual users won't know to look for it.

The no-VPN numbers are the primary score. That's the experience a Filipino user gets by default.

Ads: None observed. Console: Full text console with direct command input.

The Platforms That Didn't Make It

Minefort — Free plan does not exist in the Philippines. All options are paid on signup. No testing possible.

Final Scoreboard

The Real Finding

Three out of five platforms failed Southeast Asian users before a single block was placed:

• FalixNodes geo-blocks free server starts with no prior disclosure
• freemcserver.net issued a false VPN ban with a mandatory cooldown before appeal
• Minefort doesn't offer a free plan in the Philippines at all

This isn't a coincidence. It's a pattern. "Free" Minecraft hosting is largely designed for Western users, with Southeast Asia either deprioritized, geo-blocked, or treated as a fraud risk by default. The infrastructure argument for this is weaker than it was five years ago. Davao Oriental's internet has improved substantially since pre-COVID. The platforms haven't adjusted their policies to match.

The Recommendation

If you're in the Philippines and want a free Minecraft server that works out of the box: use Minekeep.

It's not the flashiest platform. Software options are limited to three. You don't get a region choice. But it has no ads, no grind, no expiry timers, pre-installed Geyser, a full text console, consistent cold starts, and the most honest free plan of anything tested here. For a small SMP with friends, it does everything it needs to do.

PlayHosting is the better platform on hardware — and if you're on a well-routed connection or willing to set a DNS resolver, it's worth trying. The cold start alone is impressive. But the default routing experience from Davao Oriental rules it out as a primary recommendation without caveats.

Aternos works, and its software compatibility is the widest of any platform tested. But 87% memory utilization at idle, GUI-only console, inconsistent cold starts, and ads on every surface make it harder to recommend when Minekeep exists.

The others aren't worth your time — at least not from here.

Para naman akong si gago na isip nang isip kung ano na naman ang sasabihin nito sa akin. Nawawalan tuloy ako ng ganang mananghalian. Halos tiyak ko nang sermunang umaatikabo na naman ito. Kamakalawa lamang ay halos ilabas niya ang kanyang calculator para ipakita kung gaano ako ‘katanga’ at kung gaano katama ang kanyang pagsuma sa aking mga “5.” Isinunod niya ang mga absences ko tapos, ang aking mga lates. Hindi naman maikatwirang “Paano ako di masisingko, kung kailan ako absent ay saka ka magbibigay ng quiz. Kung kelan tinatamad mag-recite, saka namimilit. Saka pag sinabi ko naman ang gusto kong sabihin kakapain na ‘yung pulang ballpen.

Pero tipong maganda naman ang kanyang mood sa klase kangina. Katunaya’y yung paborito niyang paksa ang pinagusapan namin. ‘Yung kanyang dazzling Malaysian at ang kanyang paboritong pabango. Nag-tsismis din siya (tulad ng dati). Kesyo si Mr. Espejo raw, kaya tumandang binata, dahil dalawang beses niyang binasted noong dalaga pa siya. Si Miss Kuwan daw, kaya wala sa eskuwelahan, hindi dahil nag-study leave, kundi nagpa-abort sa Amerika. Magbi-bell na nang maalala niya ang leksiyon namin, ang normalization process sa gobyerno.

Sabi niya kangina, “Para tayo maging fully democratic kailangan mataas ang literacy rate.” (Sinabi na yon ni Rizal.) “May sapat na communication system ang pamahalaan at may mataas na moralidad ang mamamayan. At hgit sa lahat, kailangan hindi tayo magiging westernized ang ating pamantayan. By so doing, hindi tayo magiging uncivilized sa western standards.”

Nang tanungin niya ako, sabi ko’y mas basic ang dapat na pamamaraan sa pagtingin sa problema. Halimbawa’y bakit hindi umpisahan sa economic condition ng bansa. Kung kuntento ang mga tao, normal ang takbo ng pamahalaan. Pero kung maraming dissatisfied, natural na abnormal ang sistema. Hindi basta effective communication process, hindi rin basta mataas na literacy rate. Mga manipestasyon lang ito ng talagang problema. Nabigla siya. Doon na kami inabutan ng bell.

Ay kunsumisyon sa buhay gusto akong lagnatin. Kay layo ng kahapon sa kasalakuyan. Pag nasa bahay ako. ako ang bida. ‘Pag ang mga kababayan ko ang magkukuwento, ako ang sikat. Pero dito sa eskuwelahan, walang isko-scholar ng bayan.

Talagang gusto ko nang huminto, pero ayaw ni Tatay. Kung sa bagay sino bang ama ang matutuwang magka-anak ng drop-out? Talagang sawa na akong nakatali sa sintas ng sapatos ng teacher ko na kasama nila sa bawat hakbang. Ipaling kung saang sulok gustong dalhin, ikaliwa kahit kanan ang gustong puntahan, ilakad-kaladkarin kahit gustong mamahinga. At isipa kahit ako ang masaktan.

Ay buhay estudyante, Maka-uno lang, kahit lulunin ang sariling dila. Kumontra ka sa kanila, singkong maliwanag. Tumangutango ka naman para maka-uno, ibig sabihin noo’n sarili mo na ang kailangang lokohin. Pakisama lang talaga. Konting kompromiso, konting tango at “yes ma’am” lang. Dos na ‘yon o tres. Kung bakit naman kasi nauso pa sa mundo ang diploma. Kung wala akong diploma, sino naman ang maniniwalang may kinabukasan nga ako. Sana’y hindi nauso ang grade, di sana’y hindi ako mahihiyang pumasok kahit Metro Manila Aide. Kung graduate naman ako’t hingan ng experience sa pag-aaplayan ko, dedo pa rin. At kung tapos nga, nakakahiya namang pati trabahong pangmahirap ay pagtiyagaan ko.

Grade lang naman, problema ba yon? Uno kung uno. Singko kung singko, tapos ang usapan, bakit kailangan pahabain pa? Bagsak kung bagsak. Kick-out kung Kick-out. Pero hindi naman talaga ako dapat bumagsak. O.K. Matigas daw ang ulo ko, rugged at medyo bastos pa raw pero bakit kailangan isali pati conduct at ayos ng katawan sa usapan? Hindi naman ito military school, hindi rin naman seminaryo; bakit panay “Yung conduct mo” at “appearance” ang panakot nila.

Ano ba ang masama nang bumagsak? Kung si Recto, bar flunker pero isa sa kinikilalang constitutionalist ngayon. Si Einstein, bumagsak sa Physics at grammar school pero bigtime scientist. Kahit teacher niya noon hindi alam ang theory niya ng relativity. Kung sa bagay, hindi naman ako si Recto o si Einstein. Si Jojo lang ako, ang walang sinabi kung teachers ko ang tatanungin. Sa pamilya marunong daw ako lalo’t si Tatay ang tatanungin. Sa mga kapitbahay namin, pambihira daw ako, biro mong sa probinisiya namin ay ako lang ang nakarating ng Maynila para mag-aral ng libre. Kung malalaman lang nila.

Aral nang aral. Aral sa umaga, aral sa tanghali at aral pa ulit sa gabi. Hindi ko naman maintindihan kung para ano ang pinag-aaralan. Hindi na naubusanng ipari-research. Walang alam itanong kung hindi “what is our lesson today?” Parang mga diyos na sila lamang ang may monopoliya ng tama. Kaya hindi pwedeng tanungin at lalong hindi pwedeng pagsabihan ng mali.

Ay, mga teacher sa mundo, bakit ba ginawa pa ng kung sinong hayupak. Tulad ni Mrs. Moral Character, bago magumpisa ng leksiyon, magsesermon muna ng virtue of honesty, kesyo masamang mandaya, kasalanang mortal ang magturo sa kaeskuwelang nakalimutan ang sagot dahil sa pagkataranta, krimen ang magkodigo at kung anu-ano pa. Lahat na yata ng masama at bawal sa mundo ay alam. Pero ang kaniyang lihim ay nabuko na namin. Noon daw nakaraan referendum ang teacher naming morally upright ay biglang nabulag at nabobo. Nang mag-watcher daw ito sa presinto, tatlong letra lang ang kabisadong basahin, katwiran daw nito’y “Anong sama doon, kahit matalo, panalo pa rin. Bakit me magagawa ka ba? “Kaya naman ngayon hindi na siya si Mrs. Moral Character sa amin, Mrs. Eraser na lang.

Tapos magtataka pa kung kangino kami nagmana sa mundo.

E sino naman kaya sa kanila ang pwedeng gawing idolo?

‘Yung teacher ko sa English, walang pakialam sa mundo. Basta magamit lang niya ‘yung nalalaman niya sa voice and diction, maligaya na siya sa buhay. Basta kami ang papel lang namin, tagapakinig sa kanyang asides. Para tuloy Kaming pang therapy lang niya. At ang kanyang paboritong paksa, yung kanyang nuno na purong kastila raw na nagpapatayo ng simbahan sa kanilang bayan. Antique s’yempre ‘yung simbahan (tulad niya at ng kanyang lolo). Ibig lang niyang palabasing may dugo siyang bughaw. Sarap sanang bukuhin na ang mga kastilang napunta rito noong araw ay mga butangero at kriminal sa Espanya. Kesa nga naman maging problema sila ng gobyerno nila, di Pilipinas na ang bahalang magtiis ng konsumisyon. ‘Yung ganong sistema ang namana niya sa kanyang lolo, ang mangunsumi ng mapagtiis. Yun namang teacher namin sa Math iba ang gimmick, ‘pag nabuko mong hindi naghanda sa lesson namin lagot ka na. Pagsasabihan ka nito ng “What? Iyon lang hindi mo pa alam hanggang ngayon? OK. That’s your assignment for tomorrow.” Saka niya sasabayan ng bura ang maling nakasulat sa blackboard.

Kunsumihin ka ba naman araw-araw, pag naging gago ka nagtataka pa. Hindi ka na nga pwedeng magwala, hindi ka pa rin pwedeng maglibang. Kung sa pagtitiis ng kunsumi ay sigarilyo at beer ang mapiling pagbuntuhan ng sama ng loob, ayun at “Sinabi ko ng nga bang masama sa pag-aaral ang bisyo,” ang agad ikakatuwiran ng mga ito.

Kung bisyo naman ang pag-uusapan, masama raw sa katawan ng tao ang alkohol at nikotina. Para na ring sinabing, pag teacher ka na ay pwede na. Dahil estudyante ka pa lang, tiis. Itanong mo kay Mr. Discipline at alam na alam niya ang sagot. Huwag mo nang itanong kung nagdaan din siya sa pagkabata, kung noong araw ay gago rin siya, dahil ang isasagot nito’y “kaya nga ayaw kong matutuhan n’yo ang bisyo dahil pinagdaanan ko na yan.”

Sa amin sa barkada, dalawa kaming mag-gu-goodbye-my-school goodbye. Kickout ako dahil sa kagaguhan daw. Si Minyong nama’y sa kabobohan daw.

Kung paano nila natiyak na dapat nga kaming palayasin sa pinakamamahal naming paaralan, ganito raw ang naging takbo ng usapan nina Mrs. Moral Character (Eraser), Mrs. Gles-ing, Mr. Mathematician, Miss Spermatozoa, Mr. Discipline at iba pa.

“Hindi naman korum, say quorum, Kuwow, quo-rum. I feel though he is brilliant, only my reservations is that….”

“Only he is stubborn. Papasok ‘yan sa klase ko nang nakainom, para pang nang-iinis na lalapitan ka. Ipapaamoy sa iyo ang hininga.”

“How true, how true, I swear to God that’s true.”

“Hindi lang yan, minsan gusto pa mandin akong kulitin sa klase na akala mo’y mahuhuli niya akong hindi prepared sa lesson ko. Tambakan ko nga ng research work, di atras siya.”

“And he is always absent. Sometimes I don’t want to give him an excuse slip anymore.”

“So what is the verdict of the group?”

“I cannot pass him.”

“Ako rin.”

“I second the motion.”

“God will punish his naughtiness.”

“I will report the matter to his parents immediately.”

Ang masama ay ang akusasyon nila kay Minyong. Nababaliw daw. Tuwang-tuwa silang pagtsismisan ito, yon ay kung hindi sila ang tinatamaan ng mga pinagsasabi ni Minyong. Pag medyo kinabubuwisitan nilang co-teacher ang tinamaan “Hi-hi-hi-hi” lang ang sagot nila. Pag-bull’s-eye si Minyong, “My God, baliw talaga, hindi alam ang sinasabi,” ang katwiran nila.

Si Minyong kasi ay “cultural minority.” Hindi naman nagprisinta sa kanila ‘yung tao na dito sa Maynila mag-aaral. Kinuha-kuha nila sa bundok, tapos pilit pinaniwalang dito nito matututunan ang paghango sa kahirapan ng kanilang tribo, saka ngayon, basta na lang sisipain. Bobo ang sabi nila. Binigyan ng isang pagkakataon. Pinagsalita, para raw mahasa nang gayo’y mawala ang inferiority complex nito. Ayon, nang matutong magsalita ang tao, na-shock silang marinig ang katotohanan.

Sabi ng pangkat ng hari.

“I find him kinda weird lately.”

“Definitely I cannot pass him."

“Oo nga naman. Gagawa tayo ng masamang precedent. Mauuso ang bobo sa eskuwelahan. Remember Philippine School for Science and Techonology ito, tapos magpapasa tayo ng estudyanteng bobo? Hindi pwede.”

“Pero cultural minority ‘yan.”

“And so?”

“...kailangan babaan natin ang standard sa kanya.”

“Excuse me? Mayroon lamang isang standard ang excellence at wala nang exception pa.”

“What now?”

“Ano pa, di bagsak.”

Saka sila nagkorus ng “ibagsak.”

Kung sa bagay nang mabalita ang kaso ni Minyong sa eskuwelahan, humigit-kumulang ay nakapagpasiya na sila sa magiging dulo ng istorya. Ganito raw iyon.

“Have you considered his case lately?”

“Anong gagawin natin sa kanya? Meron ba tayong policy sa ganyang kaso?”

“Mabuti siguro pauwiin na natin sa kanilang tribo.”

“Dapat nga, baka manakit pa yan at maraming madamay.”

“Oh, how I abhor violence.”

“Baka ‘ka mo manunog pa ‘yan. Uso pa naman sa Maynila ang sunog ngayon.”

“E kung ipa-confine natin sa mental?”

“At sinong magsu-shoulder ng bill?”

Tapos ang kaso ni Minyong bago pa man pasimulan ang deliberasyon.

Hindi naman sila parating ganoon kabilis magbaba ng hatol. Paminsan-minsan nama’y “humane” sila ‘ika nga. Tulad halimbawa sa kaso nina Osias at Armando, mga kaiskwela rin namin.

“Ipasa na natin si Osias.”

“Pero mababa ‘yan sa Physics.”

“Sus naman ito, e talaga namang mahirap yang klase mo.”

“Thoughtful ‘yang batang ‘yan. Kahit saan ka makita ay panay ang good morning.”

“Talaga. At prisintado agad ‘yan pag nakasulubong ka na maraming dala.”

“Talaga.”

“How about Armando? Another cultural minority?”

“Excuse me. he is not a thoroughbred minority. It is only the mother. The father is an Ilocano who migrated to Mountain Province.”

“Ang sweet-sweet ng batang yan. Manang-mana sa Tatay niya.”

“Pogi talaga.”

“You bet. Doctor pala ang ama n’yan.”

“Ipapasa ko ‘yan. Kaya lang naman ‘yan mababa, kasi matagal umabsent. Nagkasakit kasi.”

“Ano, pasado na ‘tong dalawa?”

“Approve.”

Mahirap talaga sa mundo ang walang amang pogi o duktor.

“Come on in. Sit down.” sabi ni Mrs. Moral Character matapos akong kumatok at papasukin sa kanyang cubicle. Inabutan ko siyang nagsasalansan ng mga libro.

“I called you for two reasons. Regarding our lesson and your attitude.”

Heto na naman kami sa loob-loob ko. Kung bakit kasi hindi na lang ako nagkasakit. Sana’y natuloy na ang lagnat ko para pwedeng huwag magpakita sa kanya at tuloy maiwasan ang sermon na nag-aabang.

“Jojo, ang tao’y hindi-pulos tiyan tulad nang gusto mong palabasin,” sabi niya habang nakataas ang isang kilay.

Huwag kang kikibo, paalala ko sa aking sarili. Konting tiis, Mahirap makipagtalo sa teacher, ngiti ka lang basta. Titigil din ‘yan pag nagsawa. Pero tipong wala siyang balak mag-short cut ng sermon.

“Walang essence ang pinagsasabi mo kangina, iyon ay isang halimbawa ng a priori statement. Do you get me?”

Tumango naman ako.

“Good. Now alam mo sigurong wala kang pinanghahawakan data, which I happen to have. Panay speculations lang ang pinagsasabi mo at walang katuturan ito sa scientific world. Our lesson is more complicated than you thought. What you mean probably is the role of economic determinism in contemporary Philosophy, which is altogether wrong. Bakit hindi mo gamitin ang power o elite approach? Behaviorlism ang trend ngayon sa west. Bakit hindi ka makigaya?”

Huwag mong pansinin, ngiti lang. Paala ko ulit sa sarili ko. Hayaan mo lang siyang magsalita nang magsalita. Pasasaan ba’t, mauubusan din iyan ng sasabihin. Pasok sa kanang tenga, labas sa kaliwa. Siya ang teacher kaya ang pakiramdam niya’y siya lang ang puwedeng tama.

“Do you get me?”

Tango pa rin ako. At ngayon. ang part-II ng kanyang sermon.

“To be honest with you, I don’t like your attitude in class. Smart aleck!”

Yuko na lang ako. Saka ako bumulong ng “I’m sorry, ma’am.”

Kahit hindi ko siya tingnan, alam kong tatango-tango siya sa tuwa. Lihim na namang pumapalakpak ang kanyang tenga sa tuwa. Napaamo niya ang suwail ng eskuwelahan. Sana’y kasing ‘honest’ din niya ako, di sana’y nasabi ko ring, “The feeling is mutual. I also dont like you, ma’am.” Sa halip, ang nasabi lang ay “Can I go now, ma’am?”

“I’m not yet through.” Ibig sabihi’y may part-III pa ang usapang ito.

“They saw you in the chapel last night.”

Diyos me, pati pala personal life ko’y pinakikialam na rin nila ngayon, sa loob-loob ko. Nararamdaman ko ang init ng kanyang titig sa aking mukha.

“How young are you Jojo? Speak up.”

Wala akong dapat ipaliwanag sa kanya. Hindi ako sasagot.

“Speak up, I said.”

“Seventeen.”

“Seventeen and already you are…”

Sa ayaw at sa gusto niya, tama na ang narinig ko. Tumayo ako para umalis. Bago ako nakahakbang, dinugtungan pa niya ang kanyang sermon.

“I’ll let your mother know about this.”

Gusto ko na talagang magwala. Gusto ko siyang balikan. Gusto kong isambulat sa mukha niya ang lahat ng hinanakit ko sa mundo. Sana’y kasing tapang ako ng gusto kong mangyari. Ano bang masama sa ginawa ko sa chapel. Magkahawak lang kami ng kamay ni Tess. Masama ba yon? Siguro ang masama’y kung bakit biglang napasyal si Mrs. Glesing sa chapel ng ganoong oras ng gabi. Kawawang Tess. Halos natitiyak ko nang gagawin na naman itong halimbawa ni Mrs. Moral Character sa kung ano ang hindi dapat maging ang isang babaeng estudyante. Si Mrs. Glesing, tiyak na halos pumasok ang dila sa ilong sa pagmamando ng kanyang scoop.

Ano pa ang magagawa ko, di suntok na lang ulit sa hangin at magbulong ng balang-araw. Kung mababaliw ako tulad ni Minyong, siguro’y hindi nila ikatutuwa, pero natitiyak kong ipagtataka rin nila kung bakit.

Nasa lobby ang mga barkada kong alaskador.

“Jo, balita nami’y bida ka na naman.”

“Hayaan mo ang mga hayupak na ya’t magsasawa din yan,”

“Kung magmu-motel kayo, di wala sana silang alam.”

“Tigil,” sabi ko.

“Ano ba talaga ang ginawa ninyo’t nagpuputok ang butsi ni Mrs. Glesing sa klase namin kangina?”

“Isa pa ‘to, anong magagawa ko sa chapel? Kahit ka may madyik, walang himalang mangyayari roon,” sabi ko.

“Ligawan mo kaya si Mrs. Glesing?”

“Tarantado, isa ka pa.” Buwisit na buhay ito, alaskado na naman ako.

“Malay mo baka may lahing Mrs. Robinson ‘yon.” Saka sila nagtawanan. Nakitawa na rin ako kahit nabuburat na ako sa buhay.

“Tara na lang sa Cubao,” yaya ko sa kanila.

‘YUNG ISANG ROUND ng beer ay nasundan ng isa pa nga at isa pa ulit. Saka pinabuntunan ng one-for-the-road. Kung gaano kabilis ang bote ay ganoon din kabilis ang oras.

“Ano ba talaga ang ginawa mo sa chapel?”

“Ano pa, di holding hands. Masama ba yon? Para nagsumpaan lang kami sa harap ng altar ng hindi maghihiwalay kahit ako ma-kick-out kabastusan na ba yon? Bakit kasi ang dudumi ng isip nila. Akala mo’y hindi nakipag-holding hands noong mga bata.”

“Sila kaya, paano naging tao?”

“Nagtinginan lang, nabuntis na.”

Saka sila nagtawanan. Buti pa sila, kahit paano’y masaya. Ako yata, kahit sa paglilibang ay mga teachers ko pa rin ang nakikita. Sobra na ‘to. Bakit ba ayaw nilang makakita ng katotohanang iba kaysa sa kinagisnan nila. Bakit ba kasi gusto nilang maging kamukha nilang lahat ang tao sa mundo. Dahil ba sa kanilang palagay ay sila ang nakadiskubre ng mina ng talino at tama, kaya wala nang natira sa amin para diskubrihin? Pero hindi ba yung tinatawag nilang expertise, yung dalawampung taon sa serbisyo, ang ibig lang sabihin, isang taon karanasang pinatagal ng dalawampung taon?

Ngayon ko lang naisip, kung buhay siguro si Beethoven at kukuha ng eksamen sa eskuwelahan, kahit bilang estudyante o teacher ay tiyak na hindi siya tatanggapin. Philiphine School for Science and Technology ito, ang eskuwelahan ng mga magiging scientist balang araw, tapos pakikitunguhan at ituturing na tao ang isang kung sinong bukod sa tamad magbihis, madalang pang maligo?

Si Einstein? Henyo ‘yon, kaya lang hindi nagsusuklay. Kick-out din siya. Bawal sa school ang mahabang buhok. Tiyak na pagsasabihan siya Mr. Discipline ng “Comply with school requirements. Maximum tolerable haircut please.” Ibig sabihin noo’y ahitan ang batok. Gawing korteng kutsarita ang tuktok.

Si Hemingway kaya? Hindi rin pwede, mabisyong tao ‘yan. Bawal ang lasenggo sa klase. E Si Maximum Gorky, ang greater Russian writer para kay Chekhov at Tolstoy, pwede kayang magturo ng comparative literature dito? Sa palagay ko’y hindi rin. Bukod sa wala silang unit sa English ay wala rin silang diploma sa Education.

Si Kristo kaya kung mabubuhay ulit at magpunta sa Science? Maestro daw siya kahit walang M.A. at Ph.D. Papasukin kaya sa gate pa lang? Hindi pwede, kung makasalubong siya roon ni Mrs. Moral Character o ni Mrs. Glesing, baka ma-shock pa ang mga ito. Palagay ko, ganito ang sasabihin nila. “Imagine kay lakas ng loob ang bastos naman ng appearance. Long hair, hindi nag-aahit, tapos nakasandalyas pa. Maano kung anak siya ng Diyos, wala naman siyang sense of de-quo-rum.” Saka kung magsermon dito si Christ, baka mabuko lang siya ng “Who is your authority, where is your data, behavioralism na ang trend ngayon sa West, bakit hindi ka makigaya.” Siguro kaya sa sabsaban na lang ang napiling birth place niya, dahil kung sa science siya ipapanganak, mababago ang kasaysayan ng Kristiyanismo sa mundo.

Ay, sense of propriety at de-quo-rum, talagang nakatataranta. Clean cut (pagsuklayin mo si Einstein). White polo shirt at black pants (pagdisentihin mo si kristo). Naiisip ko tuloy kung propriety din ‘yung tawag sa mga teacher kung nakadamit civilian sila kapag Miyerkules. ‘Yun bang parang a-attend sila ng party. ‘Yun bang ang tipo ng tela ay mapapansin agad at mapapagsabihang “Ay, ang ganda, saan mo mabili? Siguro ang mahal ano?” Na sasagutin naman ng kausap ng “Mura ‘lang yan, siento isang yarda (walong dolyar na ang katumbas ng piso). Christian Dior, original yan, hindi gawang Rustan’s.” At para talaga mapansin, kailangan humahalimuyak din sila sa bango. ‘Yun parang painting (pa-surreal). At saka tatambakan ng brilyante ang tenga, leeg, dibdib, braso at mga daliri. Sa kanilang “ganda” at “ningning” para kang nakakita ng X’mas tree sa isang mahal na araw. ‘Yun ang proper sa kanila.

Kung sa bagay, hindi na nila maaanino ‘yon. Noong gabing nahuli kami ni Tess ni Mrs. English, noon ko lang napansin ang ayos ni Kristo. Ininsulto raw ito ng mga Hudyo kaya ipinako ng hubo sa krus. Pero naiinsulto sa hubo ang mga Mrs. Moral Character, Mrs. English, Mr. Mathematician at Mr. Discipline at kanilang mga katribo. Kaya siguro nila tinakpan ang kahubdan ni Kristo ng pelus na nangingintab sa dami ng borloloy. Si Virgin Mary ay asawa daw ng isang hamak na karpintero, pero sa bikas niya ngayon ay mistulang peacock at X’mas tree na rin siya. Pati nga ang kanyang luha ay ginawang perlas.

Ang hindi nila maging kamukha ay agad nilang pinapansin. Ang taong naniniwala sa sarili ang gusto nilang lapastanganin. Sino nga ba naman si Jojo sa kanila na “isang kung sino lang.” Noon kayang mga estudyante pa sila, nakapasa kaya sila sa Science? Scholar din kaya sila? Pero bakit naging teacher lang sila sa loob ng mahabang panahon? Iyon lang kaya ang alam nila sa buhay, ang magturo? Para silang hindi naging bata. Para bang nang ipanganak sila’y alam na nila ang lahat ng bagay. Baka akala nila’y biru-biro ang maging estudyante. ‘Yun kayang conduct nila sa klase noong araw ay panay uno? Kung talagang hindi sila nagkakamali, dapat itong ireport agad sa Santo Papa sa Roma. Nasa Pilipinas lamang pala ang mga living saints.

Alin na lang kaya ang pwedeng pakialaman? Saan kaya puwedeng maging bida sa mundo? Buti pa sa referendum, kasali kami. Alin kaya ang mahalaga, ang kapalaran ng Pilipinas pwedeng isugal, pero kung sino ang mas seksi, si Alma Moreno o si Elizabeth Oropesa ay hindi namin pwedeng pagpasiyahan. “For adults” lang kasi yon.

Ops. Nakadi-jingle mag-isip. ‘Yung barkada, iba na ang usapan

“Lagyan kaya natin ng thumbtacks ‘yung upuan ni Mrs. English?”

“Di aaray ‘yun, pero pag naalala ‘yung poise n’ya, sasabihing, oh, I mean outch!”

“HI hi hi hi.”

Buti pa sila at nakukuhang ngumisngis. Ako kaya, kangino puwedeng magreklamo? Sulatan ko kaya si Valencia? Baka naman sagutin ako nito ng “Uminom ka na lang ng kape.” Si Marcos kaya? Santambak ang problema nito sa buhay, biro mong problemahin nito pati kapalaran ng Pilipinas, tapos ipasasagot pa ito sa kanya sa kasaysayan balang araw, paano ako nito mapapansin? Magreport kaya ako kay Carter, issue rin ito ng human rights, ang kapalarang ng mga sinadistang estudyante, pero mahirap namang umingles. Saka interesado lang ito sa giyera na naluluma sila.

Sa Diyos na lang kaya ako susulat? Pero nasa lahat ng lugar at sulok daw ito, kaya tiyak na alam na niya ang problema ko. Bakit nga pala sa sermon on the mount, wala ‘yung “Blessed are the poor students for they shall inherit….” Siguro dahil wala na siyang langit o lupang pwede pang ipamana sa iba.

Ayaw kong maging Minyong. Kailangang magsalita na ako baka ako mabaliw. Ayaw kong maging robot, ayaw kong maging bato. Hindi baleng drop-out, basta tao lang ako. Maliit ang comfort room kung doon ko isusulat ang aking mga sumbong. Marami na noong nauna. “What you’re holding now is the future of the Fatherland.” “If you can reach this high, you shall be great.” “Ibagsak ang pasismo.” “LABAN.” “Putang‘na n’yo.” “Alpha Phi Omega.” “Wanted pen pal.”

Magrereklamo rin ako sa pader kung kailangan, hanggang may makabasa at makarinig ng aking sumbong. Pero sa ngayon, idi-jingle ko na lang muna ang sama ng loob.