My First Experiences As a Teacher of Filipinos
After Resting in a Saloon I Arrive at My Lodging--I Attend an
Evening Party--Filipino Babies--I Take Temporary Charge of the Boys'
School--How the Opening of the Girls' School Was Announced--Curiosity
of the Natives Regarding the New School--Difficulty of Securing Order
at First.
The municipality of Capiz was expecting a woman teacher, for cries of
"La maestra!" began to resound before the boat was properly snubbed
up to the bank; and when I walked ashore on a plank ten inches wide,
there had already assembled a considerable crowd to witness that
feat. They gathered round and continued to stare when I was seated
in the principal saloon. Meanwhile a messenger was sent to find the
American man teacher, who had been notified by telegram to arrange
for my accommodation. The saloon was a very innocent-looking one,
so that I mistook it for a grocery storeroom. Such as it was, it
represented the best the Filipinos could do in the saloon line. One
sees, in Manila and, for that matter, all up and down the Chinese
and Japanese coasts, the typical groggery of America with somebody's
"Place" printed large over the entrance, and a painted screen blocking
the doorway with its suggestions of unseemliness. But the provincial
saloon is still essentially Spanish--a clean, light room with no
reservations, the array of bottles on the shelves smiling down on
the little green cloth-covered tables where the domino and card games
go on. There may be an ancient billiard table in one corner with its
accompanying cue rack, and there is almost sure to be a little hole
in the ceiling through which the proprietor's wife, who resides above,
can peep down and watch the card games. It is a genuine family resort,
too, for between four and seven all the town is likely to drop in,
the women chaffering or gossiping while their lords enjoy a glass of
beer and a game of dominoes.
The proprietor's wife must have had a fine look at me as I sat mopping
my sunburned face. At last the American teacher came, a pleasant-faced
young man who spoke Spanish excellently and was quite an adept at
the vernacular. In due time I was ushered into a room in a house
on the far side of the river, the window of which commanded a fine
view of the bridge, the plaza, the gray old church, and the jail,
with the excitements of guard mount and retreat thrown in.
The room had a floor of boards, each one of which was at least two feet
wide. They were rudely nailed and were separated by dirt-filled cracks,
but were polished into a dark richness by long rubbing with petroleum
and banana leaves. The furnishings consisted of a wardrobe, a table,
a washstand, several chairs, and a Filipino four-poster bed with a
mattress of plaited rattan such as we find in cane-seated chairs. A
snow-white valence draped the bed. The mattress was covered with a
petate, or native mat, and there were two pillows--a big, fat, bolstery
one, and another, called _abrazador_, which is used for a leg-rest.
I bathed in the provincial bathroom. Manila, being the metropolis of
the Philippines, has running water and the regular tub and shower baths
in tiled rooms. The Capiz bathroom had a floor of bamboo strips which
kept me constantly in agony lest somebody should stray beneath, and
which even made me feel apologetic toward the pigs rooting below. There
was a _tinaja_, or earthenware jar, holding about twenty gallons of
water, and a dipper made of a polished cocoanut shell. I poured water
over my body till the contents of the tinaja were exhausted and I
was cool. Already I was beginning to look upon a bath from the native
standpoint as a means of coolness, and incidentally of cleanliness.
When I got back to my room, my hostess and her sister came and sat
with me while I unpacked my trunk and applied cold cream to my sunburnt
skin. They were afraid that I should be _triste_ because I was so far
from home and alone, and they inquired if I wanted a woman servant
to sleep in my room at night. I was quite unconscious that this was
an effort to rehabilitate their conception of the creature feminine
and the violated proprieties; and my indignant disclaimer of anything
bordering on nervousness did not raise me in their estimation.
They left me finally in time to permit me to dress and gain
the sala when the bugles sounded retreat. The atmosphere was
golden-moted--swimming in the incomparable amber of a tropical
evening. The river slipped along, giving the sense of rest and peace
which water in shadow always imparts, and as the long-drawn-out notes
were caught and flung back by the echo from the mountains, the flag
fluttered down as if reluctant to leave so gentle a scene. When the
"Angelus" rang just afterwards, it was as if some benignant fairy had
waved her wand over the land to hold it at its sweetest moment. The
criss-crossing crowds on the plaza paused for a reverent moment; the
people in the room stood up, and when the bell stopped ringing, said
briskly to me and to one another, "Good evening." Then the members
of the family approached its oldest representative and kissed his
hand. It was all very pretty and very effective.
Afterwards we went out for a walk--at least they invited me to go
for a walk, though it was a party to which we were bound. Filipinos,
being devout Catholics, have a fashion of naming their children after
the saints, and, instead of celebrating the children's birthdays,
celebrate the saints' days. As there is a saint for every day in the
year, and some to spare, and it is a point of pride with every one
of any social pretension whatever to be at home to his friends on
his patron saint's day, and to do that which we vulgarly term "set
'em up" most liberally, there is more social diversion going on in a
small Filipino town than would be found in one of corresponding size
in America. At these functions the crowd is apt to be thickest from
four till eight, the official calling hours in the Philippines.
Starting out, therefore, at half-past six, we found the parlors of
the house well thronged. At the head of the stairs was a sort of
anteroom filled with men smoking. This _antesala_, as they call it,
gave on the sala, or drawing-room proper, which was a large apartment
lighted by a hanging chandelier of cut glass, holding about a dozen
petroleum lamps. Two rows of chairs, facing each other, were occupied
by ladies in silken skirts of brilliant hues, and in _camisas_ and
_pañuelos_ of delicate embroidered or hand-painted _piña_. We made
a solemn entry, and passed up the aisle doing a sort of Roger de
Coverley figure in turning first to one side and then to the other
to shake hands. No names were mentioned. Our hostess said, by way of
general announcement, "La maestra," and having started me up the maze
left me to unwind myself. So I zigzagged along with a hand-shake and
a decorous "Buenas noches" to everybody till I found myself at the
end of the line at an open window. Here one of those little oblong
tables, across which the Filipinos are fond of talking, separated
me from a lady, unquestionably of the white races, who received the
distinction of personal mention. She was "_la Gobernadora_," and her
husband, a fat _Chino mestizo_, was immediately brought forward and
introduced as "_el Gobernador_." He was a man of education and polish,
having spent fourteen years in school in Spain, where he married his
wife. After having welcomed me properly, he betook himself to the
room at the head of the stairs where the men were congregated. A fat
native priest in a greasy old cassock seemed the centre of jollity
there, and he alternately joked with the men and stopped to extend
his hand to the children who went up and kissed it.
I did my best to converse intelligently with the Gobernadora and the
other ladies who were within conversational distance. A band came up
outside and played "Just One Girl," and presently one of the ladies of
the house invited the Governor's wife and me to partake of sweets. We
went out to the dining-room, where a table was laid with snow-white
cloth, and prettily decorated with flowers and with crystal dishes
containing goodies.
There were, first of all, _meringues_, which we call French kisses,
the favorite sweet here. There was also _flaon_, which we would
call baked custard. In the absence of ovens they do not bake it,
but they boil it in a mould like an ice-cream brick. They line the
mould with caramel, and the custard comes out golden brown, smooth
as satin, and delicately flavored with the caramel. Then there was
_nata_, which is like boiled custard unboiled, and there were all
sorts of crystallized fruits--pineapple, lemon, orange, and citron,
together with that peculiar one they call _santol_. There were also
the transparent, jelly-like seeds of the nipa palm, boiled in syrup
till they looked like magnified balls of sago or tapioca.
I partook of these rich delicacies, though my soul was hungering for
a piece of broiled steak, and I accepted a glass of muscatel, which is
the accepted ladies' wine here. My hostesses were eager that I should
try all kinds of foods, and a refusal to accept met with a protest,
"Otra clase, otra clase." Then the Gobernadora and I went back to
the sala, and another group took our places at the refreshment table.
I was much interested in the babies, who were strutting about
in their finest raiment and were unquestionably annoyed at its
restrictions. Filipino babies are sharp-eyed, black-polled, attractive
little creatures. Whether of high or low degree, their ordinary dress
is adapted to the climate, and consists usually of a single low-necked
garment, which drapes itself picturesquely across the shoulders like
the cloaks of Louis the Fourteenth's time seen on the stage.
On state occasions, however, they are inducted into raiment which their
deluded mothers fancy is European and stylish; but there is always
something wrong. Either one little ruffled drawers leg sags down,
or the petticoat is longer than the dress skirt, or the waistband is
too tight, or mamma has failed to make allowance in the underclothing
for the gauziness of the outer sheathing. As for the sashes with
which the victims are finally bound, they fret the little swelled
stomachs, and the baby goes about tugging at his undesirable adornment,
and wearing the frown of one harassed past endurance. Sometimes it
ends in flat mutiny, and baby is shorn of his grandeur, and prances
innocently back into the heart of society, clad in a combination of
waist and drawers which is associated in my memory with cotton flannel
and winter nights. Nobody is at all embarrassed by the _negligée_;
and as for the baby himself, he would appear in the garments of Eve
before the Fall without a qualm.
After everybody had been served with sweets, a young Filipina was led
to the piano. She played with remarkable technique and skill. Another
young lady sang very badly. Filipinos have natural good taste in music,
have quick musical ears, and a natural sense of time, but they have
voices of small range and compass, and what voice they have they
misuse shamefully. They also undertake to sing music altogether too
difficult for any but professionals.
When the music was over, I was rather anxiously anticipating a
"recitation," but was overjoyed to discover that that resource of rural
entertainment has no foothold in the Philippines. Dancing was next
in order. The first dance was the stately _rigodon_, which is almost
the only square dance used here. When it was finished and a waltz
had begun, I insisted on going home, for I was tired out. Somebody
loaned us a victoria, and thus the trip was short. A deep-mouthed
bell in the church tower rang out ten slow strokes as I threw back
the shutters after putting out my light. The military bugles took
up the sound with "taps," and the figure of the sentry on the bridge
was a moving patch of black in the moonlight.
The Division Superintendent started inland the next morning to place
the men teachers in their stations, and as he required the services
of the American teacher in interpreting, I was told to go over and
take charge of the boys' school, at that time the only one organized.
I went across the plaza and found two one-story buildings of stone with
an American flag floating over one, and a noise which resembled the
din of a boiler factory issuing from it. The noise was the vociferous
outcry of one hundred and eighty-nine Filipino youths engaged in
study or at least in a high, throaty clamor, over and over again,
of their assigned lessons. When I went in, they rose electrically,
and shrieked as by one impulse, "Good morning, modham." They were
so delighted at my surprise at their facility with English that they
gave it to me over and over again, and I saw that they had intuitions
of three cheers and a tiger.
When I had explained to the teacher that I was there to relieve him,
he explained it to the boys, and they replied with the same unanimity
and the same robustness of voice, "Yis, all ri'!" So he went away,
leaving me in charge of the boiler factory.
It stays in my recollection as the most strenuous five hours' labor I
ever put in. Only two personalities were impressive, those of the pupil
teacher who aided me, and who has since graduated from the University
of Michigan (agricultural department), and of a very small boy who had
possessed himself of a wooden box, once the receptacle of forty-eight
tins of condensed milk, which he used for a seat. He carried the box
with him when he went from one place to another, and more than one
fight was generated by his plutocracy. He also sang "Suwanee River"
in a clear but sweet nasal voice, and was evidently regarded as the
show pupil of the school.
The school was popular not only with boys but with goats. Flocks of
them wandered in, coming through the doors or jumping through the
windows. I soon found that Filipino children are more matter-of-fact
than American children. Nobody giggled when our four-footed friends
came in, and until I gave an order to expel them their presence was
accepted as a matter of course. When I suggested putting them out,
I found the Filipino youth ready enough at rough play. The first
charge nearly swept me off my feet, and turned the school into a
pandemonium. After that the goats were allowed to assist in the
classes at their pleasure.
During the next three days, what with the labor of school and the
fatigue of entertaining most of the population of Capiz during calling
hours, I was almost worn out. The Division Superintendent came back the
latter part of the week, and the _Presidente_, or mayor, sent out, at
his request, a _bandillo_ to announce the opening of a girls' school.
The bandillo corresponds to the colonial institution of the town
crier. It consists usually of three native police, armed with most
ferocious-looking revolvers, and preceded by a temporary guest
of municipal hospitality from the local _calabozo_. This citizen,
generally ragged and dirty and smoking a big cigar, is provided with
a drum which he beats lustily. The people flock to doors and windows,
and the curious and the little boys and girls who are carrying their
baby relations cross saddle on their hips, fall in behind as for a
circus procession. At every corner they stop, and the middle policeman
reads the announcement aloud from a paper. Then the march is taken
up again by those who desire to continue, and the rest race back to
their doorways to wag their tongues over the news. The bandillo makes
the rounds of the town and returns to the municipal hall whence it
started. The prisoner goes back to jail, the police lay aside their
bloodthirsty revolvers, and such is the rapidity with which news flies
in the Philippines that, in a little more than twenty-four hours,
the essentials of the bandillo may be known all over the province.
In spite of the bandillo I waited long for a pupil on the day of
opening my school. My little friend of the milk box deserted his own
classes and stationed himself at my door. After an interminable time
he thrust his head inside the door and announced, "One pupil, letty."
It was a very small girl in a long skirt with a train a yard long and
with a gauzy camisa and pañuelo--a most comical little caricature of
womanhood. She was speechless with fright, but came on so recklessly
that I began to suspect the cause of her determination. It was,
in truth, behind her as my groom of the front yard soon let me
know. Again the elfin face and the wiry pompadour leaned round the
door-jamb--"One more pupil, letty,--dthe girl's modther."
But she was not a pupil, of course, and she had only come in response
to the heart promptings of motherhood, white, black, or brown, to talk
about her offspring to the strange woman who was to usurp a mother's
place with her so many hours of each day. She was quite as voluble
as American mothers are, and her daughter was quite embarrassed by
her volubility. The child sat stealing frightened glances at me and
resentful ones at her mother.
Half an hour later, three more girls came in, and they continued
to drop in during the rest of the morning till I had forty-five
enrolled. Some of them were accompanied by their dogs, which curled
up under the benches without disturbance. Several nursemaids also
happened along to give their charges a peep at the American school,
and a crowd of citizens peered in at doors and windows and made
audible remarks about the new institution.
Within a few days the enrolment ran up to one hundred and
forty-nine. As this was too large a body to be handled by me alone,
the teacher of Spanish days was brought back to the school, pending the
arrival of more teachers from the States. She was a plump, middle-aged
body who had a little--a very little--English, but whose ideas of
discipline, recitation, and study were too well fixed to permit of
accommodation to our methods. She was unfailingly polite and kind,
though I could see that she was often harassed by the innovations to
which she could not accustom herself.
The school-house was one immense room, and one of the first acts of
the Division Superintendent was to set in motion the forces which
should separate it into three. This took time. First the Presidente
had to approve, and the town council to act on his suggestion. The
Municipal Treasurer, a native official, had to certify the cost to
the Provincial Treasurer, an American civil appointee, and if the
last-named official approved, the council could make the appropriation
and order the work done.
Pending these changes, the Filipino teacher took one end of the room
and I the other. We were sufficiently far apart not to interfere with
each other's recitations. In order that all the pupils should have
their reading and grammar recitations under my personal supervision,
we changed classes at intervals. For the sake of the drill, I made
the children move from one part of the room to the other, instead
of changing with the other teacher myself. We made great efforts
to accomplish this movement with order and decorum, but the result
at first was a fizzle. The double column always began to move with
dignity, but by the time it had advanced ten steps, excitement began
to wax, the march became a hurry, the hurry grew to a rush, and the
rush ended in a wild scramble for front seats. One little maid in
particular was such an invariable holder of an advantageous position
that my curiosity was aroused to see how she did it. I watched her, saw
her glistening brown body--perfectly visible through the filmy material
of her single garment--dive under the last row of seats and emerge
triumphant at the front while the press was still blocking the aisles.
Disorder and excitement were, however, mere temporary conditions. Under
repeated admonition and practice, the Filipino children moved about
with more order and regularity, the habit of studying aloud was
overcome, and the school began to show the organization and discipline
to which Americans are accustomed.
The hardest thing to overcome was their desire to aid me in matters
that I could manage better alone. If some one whispered and I tapped
a pencil, instantly half the children in the room would turn around
and utter the hiss with which they invoke silence, or else they
would begin to scold the offender in the vernacular. Such acts led,
of course, to unutterable confusion, and I had no little trouble in
putting a stop to them.