what's the name?

Chapter 3

As we approached the school gate, the SSLG (Supreme Student Government) officers and the security guard were diligently checking everyone's bags. I patiently waited my turn, the familiar routine a daily reminder of the world outside our school walls. After they gave my bag a quick once-over, Mariel and I parted ways, heading to our respective classrooms.

I made my way to 10-Mapitagan, my homeroom section. The room was still relatively empty, with only a few early birds scattered around. I settled into my usual seat near the window, the morning sun casting a warm glow on the worn wooden desk. I reached into my bag and pulled out the book my teacher had lent me, knowing my love for reading. It was one of her personal favorites, a Filipino classic called "Bata, Bata... Pa'no Ka Ginawa?" by Lualhati Bautista.

I opened the book to where I had left off, eager to lose myself in the story. The book had already been adapted into a movie, a testament to its enduring popularity. I flipped the page and began to read, the words drawing me into the complex world of motherhood and identity.

After a while, my other classmates started to trickle in, their chatter gradually filling the once-silent room. The topic of conversation quickly turned to our math assignment, a collective groan echoing through the room. I couldn't help but overhear their desperate pleas for help, their voices laced with anxiety. It was a relatively easy assignment, and I found myself wondering why they were so stressed about it. Were they simply too lazy to do it themselves? Maybe they weren't as academically inclined as others? Or perhaps they just lacked the fundamental knowledge needed to grasp the concepts? I often saw them diligently reviewing their notes, while I, on the other hand, rarely bothered. Despite my apparent lack of effort, I still managed to excel in the subject. Maybe it all boiled down to differences in IQ levels.

Lost in thought, I was abruptly pulled back to reality when one of my classmates approached my desk. "Hey, did you already finish the math assignment? Can you help me with it?" she asked, her eyes pleading. I hesitated for a moment, reluctant to interrupt my reading. But seeing her genuine struggle, I couldn't bring myself to refuse. "I haven't finished it yet, but I can help you get started," I replied.

She eagerly pulled up a chair next to me, and soon, a small group of classmates had gathered around my desk, all clamoring for assistance. I patiently explained the concepts, breaking down the problems step by step. They seemed to understand my explanations, nodding along as I spoke. But when I tried to test their understanding by asking follow-up questions, they struggled to answer, their faces contorted in confusion. "It's kind of messy to understand, if you know what I mean," one of them confessed sheepishly. I simply smiled, refraining from further probing. They eventually dispersed, armed with newfound knowledge, or at least a semblance of it. I returned to my book, trying to recapture the immersive experience I had been enjoying before the interruption. But the bell rang, signaling the start of the flag ceremony, cutting my reading session short.