What I’ve learned in PH schools

THE AUTHOR (left) and schoolmate William Jay Bowdoin (right) show off their gavel awards from the Harvard Model Congress held in Hong Kong with teacher-coach Jerry Uy.

For almost 400 years, the Philippines was a Spanish colony. For almost 50 years, it was the prized overseas possession of the United States. For almost 10 years, I was a student in the Philippine education system, a complex institution influenced by half a millennium of foreign rule and intervention.

The foreign powers came and went, but their impact on the Philippines, especially on education, remains.

Spain arrived to find an archipelago with its own culture and left behind a country that was almost its copy in terms of religion, language and society.

Filipino textbooks that I used could not emphasize enough the significance of Spanish rule in the reinvention—some might say destruction—of Philippine culture. Roman Catholicism, which was introduced by the Spaniards, pervaded not only society but also our textbooks. Illustrations for constructing grammatically correct sentences in English inevitably showed a family preparing for or attending Mass.

The United States introduced the first public school system in the country and sent hundreds of teachers to educate their “little brown brothers” in the ways of a civilized society.

This brought about the prominence of English as the common language and effectively ensured that future generations of Filipinos would be exposed to the foreign language.

Only English

All my classes, with the exception of Filipino language and Philippine history, were conducted in English. Violators of the English-only rule were penalized.

Our textbooks were in English, some more grammatically correct than others. Even outside the classroom, we were encouraged to use English, and so we did.

The general atmosphere in my school was heavy with the presence of this language and it was in this bubble of colonial-era memories that I first learned to speak and write in the language I use now.

For the first six years of my studies, I went to a Chinese-Filipino school. In a largely homogenous Filipino student population of almost 500, I was the only Korean.

For many of my classmates, I was the first Korean they had met and, for most, I was an oddity.

In class, in the halls, in the cafeteria, in the auditorium, in the playground—everywhere I went, I stood out like a large tree in the great plains of Africa.

Delicate mixture

It was in these trying circumstances that I started my journey to become who I am now—a delicate mixture of Filipino, Korean and American culture.

Although I looked different, my Filipino friends treated me, as much as they could, like I was one of them. It was during my daily interactions with them that I picked up Tagalog and my eyes were opened to the fine nuances of Philippine culture and society, something I could not have done had I been in an international school.

I talked like my Filipino friends and walked like them. On special days, like Bonifacio Day or Independence Day, I would join in the festivities, just as if I were one of the hundreds of people who actually had a reason to celebrate.

Every election season, I would learn the names of the candidates from conversations with friends about whom their parents were voting for.

Everything I did was influenced by Philippine culture. In the first few years of my childhood, I was a bona fide Filipino.

None of this could have happened had I not gone to this school. It was through my experiences with Filipino friends and teachers, being in the Philippine education system during a critical period of my social and mental development, that I truly grew as a person and a global citizen.

Sentimental value, too

I still carry to this day what I learned in elementary school largely because, aside from educational value, my memories also have sentimental value. Memories of the laughter and the tears, growing pains and pouring tropical rain, and Tagalog and English stay with me to this day.

Sometime in the sixth grade, my parents decided that I should transfer to an international school to better prepare for college. In a state of confusion and great anguish, I moved to Faith Academy in seventh grade.

I felt like my world was falling apart. I loved my local Philippine school and did not want to leave my friends. I later realized that my world did not fall apart but was completely turned around.

The international school exposed me to so many different cultures and so many aspects of school that I never imagined existed. Lockers, elective classes, actual exercise during physical education class, white teachers, white classmates, orchestra class, after-school clubs and so much more came crashing down on me. I was totally unprepared.

Next phase

Yet even in my state of shock, I knew that this was the next phase of my journey. Now, even after five years at Faith, I still get new perspectives on issues and my eyes are open to the complex, diverse and utterly amazing vibrance of an international community.

If I could start over, if I could live my life again, I would still choose the Chinese-Filipino school of my early years. As much as I love Faith and as much as it has shaped me into more of a global citizen, I cannot deny the superior significance of my schooling in the Philippine education system in forming the basis of my consciousness and molding me into a person of multiple cultures.

This humble institution, this haphazard mixture of Spanish and American colonial influences, is truly what has had the greatest impact on my life and my perspective of the world.

Much of my attachment and my love remain with this institution, and I will have it no other way.

JiHun Daniel Lee, 17, is a Korean student who was educated in provincial Philippine schools before he enrolled at Faith Academy Manila, an international school in Antipolo City dedicated to children of missionaries serving in Asia.