Untitled Love Letter

Untitled Love Letter

Dear Shorty Shepherd,

          I know, I know, I don’t have the right to call you shorty because you’re taller than me. But this is my letter and I’ll call whatever I want. Lalalalala~

I admit that I have this little crush thingy for you. Listen up because this might be the last time I’ll say this to you – you are really nice, cute and funny to be with.

The first time I saw you, you were picking up medals in every contest you join. I know you are freakin’ intelligent and I sometimes wonder why it took you centuries to figure out that I like you – really like you.

You told me that you have a crush on me. Well, you even told me you “love” me. That’s a big bomb that exploded right in front of me. It was like my mind is yelling that there must be some mistake or something.  But there was no mistake. You’re really there telling me all those sweet little things.

You make my heart flutter and beat faster. You even cause butterflies to fly in my stomach. You make me feel liked and cared for. And finally, you make me feel that I belong – that there is a place in this world where I am welcome.

I really like the way you make snide comments even though they are sometimes irritating. I love the way you smell and the softness of your voice.

Okay. I know I’m a little bit exaggerated here but that’s what you do to me. I tend to be a little out of my mind whenever I think of you.

My most unforgettable moment with you happened last field trip. I really felt drained, drowsy and dizzy. You let me sleep leaning on your shoulders. I really think that was so sweet of you. Thank you.

But I’m not sure about the “love” thing. I think were too young to understand what it really is. I once believed that when two people love each other, everything was going to be fine. I was wrong.

I want you to be sure of your feelings. When you tell me that you love me, I want you to mean it, not just say it for the sake of saying something. If you’re thinking that I’m saying this because of what “he” did, you’re wrong. I’m saying this because I care for you. I don’t want you to be hurt.

So when things settle down and you realize what you really feel, tell me. I’ll be there to listen and understand. If you insist that you really love me, don’t just say it - prove it.

Stay awesome, Edward.~

Yours truly,

Nymph Jean ^.^

  

My Hero, Our Heroes

`“Where are you now? ‘Cause I’m thinking of you...you showed me how...how to live like I do.”

`Do you still remember your kindergarten teacher? I know we don’t give it much thought- how our first teachers taught us the most basic thing we need to learn, things that we still remember now.

`I could still remember all the teachers I’ve had. Ma’am Pearly was my teacher in kindergarten; Ma’am Alaman in grade 1 and 2; Ma’am Feby in grade 3 and grade 6; Ma’am Irene in grade 4; Ma’am Ava in grade 5; Ma’am Jennylou in first year high school; Ma’am Jennette in second year and, of course, Ma’am Arceo in third year.

Every single teacher we’ve had taught us more than one important lesson. They let us learn from our mistakes and stand up every time we fall. Teachers don’t just teach knowledge from the book. There are things more important than finding LCDs and knowing the path of blood in the body. These things are the lessons from experience- from life itself.

Teachers are our second parents. We actually spend more waking hours in school than in our own house. Teachers watch us grow- physically and mentally. They teach us, they guide us, they love us.

One teacher I really can’t forget is Ma’am Pareja. She may be a strict teacher but that’s just because she wants us to be disciplined. She said to us more than once “You will not feel fear if you did not do anything wrong.” I’ve learned so many things from her- things which I doubt if the thickest book in the library had.

My mom, who is also a teacher, asked me once why Ma’am Pareja wasn’t applying as a principal. So, I asked Ma’am Pareja and her answer was she just wants to teach as a plain teacher. She wants to get close to students. I also asked her why she is teaching freshmen instead of older students and she said that younger students are easier to mold than the older ones-they are more obedient. She is the wisest teacher I’ve met. She knows how to make a student admit the wrong thing he did by just talking to him. She knows students’ body language. She knows if they are listening or not, if they understand or not and whatever going on in the student’s mind during her class.

Teachers are not just teachers. They are mothers. They are friends. They are heroes. They save students from ignorance. They open their eyes to knowledge. And they also teach the students how to face the “real world”. They give us lessons that can’t be reflected in class cards but those which reflect on how we carry ourselves in our daily lives.

“If it wasn’t for you I’ll I would never be who I am...”