19
Nov
07

My Second Mother

Yes, I have a second mother. And no, she is not a stepmother.

 

I got to know her first as my English 1 teacher on my first year in college. Professor Jovita H. Orara was a very strict teacher. She was like a visiting professor from UP then. My classmates feared her because she would use her UP style of teaching in her classes. But later on, we found her very friendly especially outside the classroom. She was like everybody’s grandma.

 

After the first semester, she was appointed Dean of the College of Arts and Sciences. During that time, there was no CAS existing in our school, and that meant that she needed to start her office from scratch.

 

That time, my parents have told me that our finances cannot support my nursing studies anymore because of the expensive tuition fees in our school. I was told that I should transfer to Bulacan State University, and shift to another course, hence I will not be able to continue my college studies. During that time, tuition fees in BSU was very cheap (as compared today) and so affordable especially for less privileged students. I felt terrible then, because I really wanted to finish what I have started, and become a nurse.

 

Having regarded Professor Orara as a friend, I told her about my dilemma during class cards distribution. She was quick to suggest that I work in her office so that I will not have to pay my tuition fees, so that I could continue my nursing studies.

 

My parents did not object, and I promised to them that I will try my best to balance work and studies in order to graduate in time. They supported my decision and believed that I could pursue the goals I had set for myself.

 

During my stint as a student assistant for Dean Orara’s office, I came to know a lot of things that I still value up to this day. My tight schedules taught me how to value time. I would wake up very early in the morning to study, and prepare for my nursing internship in hospitals. After my hospital duty, I would rush to Dean’s office to do some errands, and some paper works. Later, I would be seen attending my classes until 7pm. I would also accompany Dean Orara home, a trip from Bocaue to Quezon City (where she lived), and back, on Mondays and Wednesdays. I would be home by 9 to 10 pm.

 

Ma’am O (I got used to calling her this way) also taught me how to become organized.  I absorbed her system in running her office. I made sure memos were signed by receiving persons, corrected even the smallest typographical errors, and made sure files were labeled and in order. I was made to manage a small library, which further improved my organizing skills.

 

I was made to deal with people more often. I was a timid person initially, but got over it after I dealt with different kinds of people as part of my work. I helped in the enrollment process where I got to deal with students. I assisted teachers with their work. I circulated memos. I was made to visit teachers in their respective towns. I was introduced to the UP community. I got to watch quality movies, stage plays, and ballet performances.

 

My values enriched as she taught me a lot of life lessons. She would tell me stories about her struggles in life and how I should get inspiration from hurdles and impediments. She trained me to become a strong person, enduring the sometimes harsh realities of life.

 

After graduating, I was then absorbed by the same office as an Office Assistant. Later on, I found a nursing job, and I found it difficult to leave the place. But even after leaving my office work, Ma’am O  and I never lost contact and she remained my mentor for life. Whenever I needed to make tight decisions, it was her that I would consult. She considered me as the son that she never had.

 

She would also call me if she needed some help. And I would always come running at her doorstep. We started a unique friendship. When I went to work abroad, we remained in touch through phones, letters and cards.

 

When I was about to get married, I found it difficult to tell her. I knew I would break her heart, as real mothers would. And break her heart, I did. She felt so sad when I announced my wedding. But I knew that was just an initial reaction. I knew that she was just worried if I was making the right decisions in life, just like any parent would think in that instant.

 

She does not usually attend weddings, unless it is her daughter’s, I know that. But she attended my wedding. Mine was an exception to the rule, ah!

 

Today is her 81st birthday (Nov 15). We celebrated her birthday in her office yesterday, together with her faculty members. I think this is my first time in five years to be in the country for her birthday, so I really made an effort to be present. I bought her a cake from Red Ribbon. She just sent me a text message this afternoon telling me that there has been a lot of food during the day, but yesterday’s cake was still the best, not because of the taste, but because it has full of love. Whew! So inspiring…

 

I owe a lot to Ma’am O and words cannot just measure how much her contribution is to my life. She made me become who I am today and she will be part of who I will be tomorrow. I will forever be grateful for having been blessed with a second mother.


15 Responses to “My Second Mother”


  1. November 19, 2007 at 5:56 am

    Nice story bro. Keep up the good work!

    God Bless!

  2. November 19, 2007 at 6:30 pm

    you write so well. i enjoy reading ur blogs that is why i bookmarked your site. job well done!

  3. November 21, 2007 at 1:33 am

    tnx for the visit. this is such a good post. i hope Ma’am O could read this and just like any other teacher in the world this is the best gift that she would probably receive. i am deeply touched by your story.

  4. November 21, 2007 at 4:04 am

    Robert & Diego, thanks!

    Lirio yeng, I become more inspired to write when I know that I am able to touch other people’s lives. Thanks for dropping by!

  5. November 26, 2007 at 3:11 pm

    You are such a blessed person.

  6. November 26, 2007 at 5:06 pm

    Sometimes we forget to thank people who has made us become who we are now. Nice post.

  7. November 26, 2007 at 7:45 pm

    nice topics, nice blog. you seem to be hard-working too so dont forget to give credit to your own perseverance…

  8. November 27, 2007 at 4:03 am

    william, neil and marcus, my big thanks for your nice comments!

  9. February 26, 2008 at 11:45 pm

    wow ang bata pa ni mam orara jan ah hehe. prof q din po siya s english 1 & 2. grabe dmi takot jan pero ang bait ni mam.

  10. 10 digitalcatharsis
    March 3, 2008 at 1:37 pm

    yup…the best talaga yang si ma’am o. we are lucky to have her.

  11. 11 axel a. sucalit
    July 11, 2008 at 11:48 pm

    . .. may i ask for a favor with regards to maam o .. there’s this book i borrowed from her years back, i wish to return it to her… if you may provide me with her tel no. or cel no. or address, it will be much appreciated… i used to visit her at up dilliman campus during my med student days at up-pgh.. i do hope she still remembers me…

  12. August 9, 2008 at 9:57 am

    hello. Ma’am O (i also call her this way) became my Filipino professor for four years. and i also owe her a lot. she seems like a grandma to our class. :)

  13. 13 digitalcatharsis
    August 14, 2008 at 5:08 pm

    Hi Dr. Axel and Kristine Mae! Thanks for coming here!

    I knew there’ll be lots of people out there who share the same love for Ma’am O. She’s over 80 years old now, but she’s still teaching. If there’s anybody out there who also became her student, show your appreciation by giving her a call. Leave me a message here and I’ll give you her number.

  14. 14 kristine mae betansos
    November 15, 2008 at 1:27 pm

    what’s her number? it’s her bday today! :)

  15. November 16, 2008 at 1:21 am

    yup it’s her birthday today! i called her this morning to greet her!

    i’ll email you her number later…


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No one person can ever experience all that life has to offer. It is only through sharing - experiences, feelings, insights - that we can hope to grow beyond our own meager lifetime.

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