EVERYONE goes through that one professor in college whose very existence seemed to be created for the sole purpose of terrorizing student life. I unfortunately had the chance to meet such a professor in my freshman year. Unknown to him, I had shed tears over his difficult quizzes and exams. The professor is dead now- may he rest in peace- but his lessons still remain in my mind.
My professor's name was Orlando Darang. Everyone called him Mr. Darang.
Mr. Darang was a Filipino teacher who looked to be in his early 70s. He wore a frown to school every day that went well with his forehead wrinkles to complete the "terror teacher" look.
But the professor also wore clean and professional clothes to work. This is one of the things that made me respect him.
Since I spent half of my life in Thailand, my Filipino was weak and I had to give more hours in studying to achieve a passing score. Mr. Darang's quizzes were majorly about memorizing terms even I had difficulty pronouncing.
I could barely understand his lessons as I was a fresh high school graduate from Thailand. I was not motivated to go to his classes and flunked his quizzes.
For the first time in my college life, I tasted a grade bordering 72. I nearly failed the preliminary term.
Downhearted, I told my mother I might fail the subject. A unit in Ateneo cost more than 1,000 pesos and I knew she would be greatly disappointed.
Instead of scolding me, my mother cheered me up and told me to get higher grades for midterm and prefinals.
Through her encouragement, I decided to collect my quizzes and review my mistakes. I was ready to face the professor's lessons again.
Mr. Darang's lessons were relentless. Adding to that, there were also recitations and we had to perform a speech in front of the class individually.
I did not back down. I reviewed his lessons after school and remembered the terms.
When the final exam week came, I spent hours studying in the library. I knew I did my best but a failing grade still haunted me. Filipino was a minor subject and failing would make all my hard work meaningless.
Before I knew it, teardrops started falling on my book. I could not control my emotions. I covered my face before the girl next to me could realize I was crying.
The clock was ticking. I only had ten minutes before the exam started. "To hell with it," I whispered and went to the exam room.
Surprisingly that day, Mr. Darang did not frown. He had a calm look as he told us to do our best.
A few weeks after the exam, I opened my Student Information System account. I nearly cried with relief. My prefinal grade was a B+. This brought up my final grade to a passing B.
For the first time since I entered college, I experienced the joy of succeeding after days of hard work. It was then that I realized I had nothing to fear.
I had gone through a "terror teacher," nearly given up, got up, and passed. It was an experience that will forever be engraved in my mind.
To this day, I am still grateful to Mr. Darang's style of teaching. I had learned to work to achieve my dreams.
Nothing comes easy, but when you work the extra mile to reach a dream, the fruits it bears will make everything worth it. There is nothing sweeter than hard-earned success.
To Mr. Darang, may you rest in peace. Thank you for being a part of my life. I pray the angels watch over and touch your soul as you have touched mine. (Jamrell Vincette Buynay, Ateneo de Davao University)