■ Andrea Joyce Lucas
Once along Katipunan Avenue where a shopping mall now stands, there was a school campus. The school itself has been relocated to a smaller space not too far from the mall, within the university grounds close by.
Nowadays, none of the buildings of the old school remains as they have given way to the mall’s expansion: to new clothing shops, high-end restaurants, even a cinema. Commerce has made the place busier than ever. But if you look and listen closely as you walk through this shopping mall, you might find yourself seeing the ghost of the old school.
The mall is rarely ever silent, but during the few moments that it is, the ghost sometimes makes itself heard, echoing the distant memories of students’ footfalls as they run to their next class, or the hoots of laughter mingled with the sound of slapping cards from a game of pusoy dos. The ghost holds on to the happy moments of its past, you see, but it also remains watchful, in case some of the school’s former students happen to be at the mall. When the ghost sees even just a brief glimpse of a familiar face, it makes its presence known by a slight change in the atmosphere, or a gentle whiff of a breeze like the ones that used to blow within the old school premises.
But even when the ghost chooses to pass undetected, you only have to pay close enough attention to feel its palpable longing, its sense of loss. It misses having lectures within its classrooms, seeing the occasional protest activities, hearing the fun and noise of school celebrations. It misses even the small vandalized scribbles on the schoolroom desks and the bathroom stall doors, and the bits of gossips bored students would pass on to each other.
Like most other ghosts, this one remains because of unfulfilled promises, unfinished tasks. The school’s promise was to be an institution championing nationalism, actively participating in shaping culture and society. While to some extent these promises are being kept, in the smaller space where the school has been relocated, the ghost is still burdened with longing and memory. Its loss is a double loss. The old school has lost not just the physical things—its students, teachers and buildings—but also lost its heart dedicated to service, after having been sacrificed to profiteering goals and business interests.
Whenever you walk through the shopping mall these days, remember what it once was, and think of other ghosts forced out of thought and remembrance by business ventures like the mall. Be watchful—the ghost of the old school along Katipunan Avenue was not the first of its kind, and will probably not be the last. ■
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