I FIRST met Lourdes Gamutan, affectionately called Ma’am G, when I enrolled in her Philippine Literature class.

My friends had heard so many terrifying stories about her, so when they learned Ma’am G would be handling the class, they transferred to another class handled by a reputedly more lenient teacher.

Though they tried to persuade me to join them, warning me of impending doom, I opted to stay in Ma’am G’s class and I had no regrets.

Ma’am G turned out to be really generous in giving grades. When I enrolled in the English 2 class that she also handled, I think I got 94 or higher.

But it is not the high grades that I remember best about Ma’am G. Rather it is her antics that remain fresh in my mind.

While other teachers would simply let their students leave at the end of the class, Ma’am G, a Dominican lay person, opened and closed our sessions with prayers.

If she saw a student still clutching a book, carrying a bag or holding anything, she would tell him or her, “Put it down. When we pray, it should be total surrender.”

But when she prayed, I would sometimes wonder if she was serious at all. I remember one of her prayers that went something like this: “Dear God, Thank you for the blessings you gave us. Thank you that we are human beings. Thank you that we are not cockroaches. Thank you that we are not frogs. Kokak…kokak… kokak…”

No one dared laugh when Ma’am G prayed that way, so as not to disturb her. When she was disturbed halfway through her prayer, she would not hesitate to start all over again.

Ma’am G could also be very frank. During a graded recitation, about five students sat in front of the class, waiting to be called. She called the attention of one woman who was slouching. “It’s not pleasant to see a woman slouching,” Ma’am G said. “Sit properly.”

In the middle of my own presentation, she interrupted: “Don’t move your head too fast. You look like a wall fan. Do it slowly.”

When someone mispronounced a word, she quickly pointed out the mistake. “It’s better to correct it immediately,” she would say. “It’s what I call instant correction.”

But Ma’am G did not just notice the mistakes. Once, at the end of our English 2 class, she asked me to stay. After everyone had left the room, she asked if I was interested in joining the school paper, of which she was the adviser.

I told her I was but that I couldn’t because as a student assistant scholar I was not allowed to join organizations.

“Ay, sayang [What a pity],” she said. “You have a talent for writing pa naman.” Though I did not join the school paper, I continued to write.

But perhaps more than her antics, I will remember Ma’am G as someone who knows how to nurture a promising youth. I can say I am one of those promising youths she nurtured. I am what I am today partly because of her.

Ma’am G, how could I thank thee? Surely it would take me many years to count the ways.

Arvin Antonio Ortiz, 20, is a fourth year Bachelor of Science in Education (Social Science) student at Holy Cross of Davao College in Davao City.