Three schools in seven years. That's my primary schooling. It was a Catholic school for girls for three years, a year-and-a-half in a co-ed American school, and two-and-a-half years with a small co-ed private school (which has grown so much bigger now).

Unlike today when kids still in diapers are sent off to play school, I was six when I started kindergarten. By then I knew the alphabet, numbers, colors, and even to write properly. Home was my first school, my parents my first teachers.

My Dad wouldn't have it any other way. He was adamant about sending us to school so young. The man, whose parents were both schoolteachers, had been traumatized by early schooling.

He was too smart so they made him sit in class with older kids, with his mom as teacher. The subjects he could cope with and even aced. Relating to bigger boys and girls was the challenge. Often, he was the butt of jokes for being so small. And even up to high school, he was still smaller than most boys.

So, he put his foot down when it came to his kids. We would learn the basics at home then start school when we were old enough not to feel insecure around so many other children.

That's why he plied me with books, read to me, played with me, and taught me as much as he could. It also helped having grandparents who were teachers.

Ready for school

It was perhaps because I had been ready for learning that I ended up top of my kindergarten class. Back then, rankings were never announced until the final days of school, not quarterly like it is now.

The memory remains etched in my mind. The entire school was outside this huge quadrangle after flag ceremony. Then teachers started announcing names of students who topped their classes for the year.

When my name was called, I had to be prodded to go up front still unaware of what was happening. When you're a shy kid, that's almost terrifying. To stand in front of the whole school and be applauded, wow! That's why I remember it... always.

Nearing the end of second grade, my father, who had made Singapore his base to be close to work, decided he wanted us (mom and us three girls) to join him.

I think I didn't finish the school year but was given permission to take the final tests before I left. This way, I would have complete grades when my transcript was sent over to the new school.

Adjusting to the new

We flew out in March. School wasn't going to start until September. So, I was like on a six-month vacation. Which helped me acclimatize to our new home and surroundings. The downside was we didn't actually make a lot of friends.

There were no other kids in the apartment complex where we lived. My dad had a few friends with families. One had a baby boy, so that didn't count. The other had five kids, three of whom were much older than us, the two quite young.

We did become friends, but it was never the playmates that we had back home. For one, we didn't live near each other, so visits weren't often unless it was someone's birthday.

When school finally started, it was a totally new environment to adjust to. It was an open-classroom setup. The area where classes were held was this huge auditorium-sized room, divided into six separate classrooms, all of which had low bookshelves as partition. Half of the students were third graders like myself, the other half were in fourth grade.

It was an American school for children of expatriates. So, my classmates were all foreigners, most with varying shades of blond hair and a twang when they spoke. I think there were three or four of us with black hair.

I've never been big about making friends. One or two will do. And yes, one of my friends was also Filipino. But I knew everyone else in my class, and the next, because there weren't many of us.

Best memories

I have three memories of my time in that school. First is how we had ticket stubs for lunch. All the kids would line up at the cafeteria, hand over our stub for the day, then our tray would be filled with a plate of whatever was being served on that day, along with a cookie or cake, and juice or milk.

That was my introduction to American food. I loved the sloppy joe - which resembles spaghetti sauce but with more meat and red beans, a little spicy, then scooped onto a hotdog bun and topped with grated cheese.

The second was library hour every Fridays. Instead of class, everyone was asked to head to the library and pick out three books that we could take out for the week. If you were done selecting which ones and there was still time, you could just slump on the carpet by the shelves and read to your heart's delight.

I remember running late for the next class a few times because I got lost in my reading and didn't notice everyone had left.

The last memory is Reading class. That's when teachers gauge your reading ability. Everyone picks out a book, and teacher sits with each student, asking you to read aloud a page or two, or more if necessary, then asks questions. You get to discuss the story with her.

This teaching method is so invaluable. It helped kids get better at reading, pronunciation, comprehension, and discussion with an adult.

Kids weren't terrified of interacting with teacher because it was a one-on-one thing. Every other student was busy in their space or corner reading, and not being nervous when it was their turn.

So, what they taught me in that school only reinforced what my parents had been teaching me all along.

Planting roots

The decision to return to the Philippines came as a surprise. School had already started. But my Dad was being asked by his company to move again. It was only much, much later when I learned the choice was either to relocate to Scotland or come back home.

My Dad was very much a provincial boy at heart and very clannish. He didn't want his children to grow up without roots. Moving around every year or so would deprive us of planting roots. So it was back to the Philippines.

Finding a school to accept us (my second sister was also studying by then) in the middle of the schoolyear was a little challenging.

We were directed to a small private school not far from home. A neighbor had sent her kids to study there and vouched it offered quality education.

They asked us to take a test, which after thirty minutes the results were out. We were in! The challenge was to catch up. I had missed a couple of weeks of the third quarter already.

The school principal was a strict old maid, a schoolmarm, who loved everyone of the students in her school. For some reason, she took an instant liking to me. We came for the testing when classes were about to end for the day. She took me around, and introduced me to the teacher and class.

Of course, everyone was curious who I was, and why I was coming in late. It didn't help that the principal kept speaking in English and I responded accordingly. So, everyone thought I was an English-speaking kid, especially because I had picked up the twang from my old school!

Best experience

Naturally, only the bold and brave came up to make friends with me. No one wanted to keep conversing in English. Somehow, I never told them I understood them just fine, and I could actually speak to them in Filipino.

Eventually, they learned I was quite friendly, and not intimidating like they initially assumed. And by then, I had become comfortable speaking in the vernacular.

What I loved in that school was how kids were encouraged to do their best in academics. Every quarter, those who made it to Top 5 had their papers stuffed in an envelope (Quizzes and tests always had stars when you got 90 and above), and sent off to the Principal.

Painstakingly, she would write a short message for each quarter, to praise and encourage you. And yes, even with weeks missed in lessons, I ended up third in class for the quarter, to the annoyance of whoever I bumped out of the rankings.

To round out our education, each grade level had to make a presentation every year, where students get to sing, dance and act. This helped discover who had talent, and it was here when I learned I could dance.

By the following year, I was singing and dancing in the program, too. On my last year, I had been tapped to teach nursery kids how to dance. Woohoo!

And because we weren't a very big school, by the time I was in sixth grade everyone knew who I was, because of both academics and talents.

I think I had a very well-rounded foundation for my education. And I will always cherish the schools I went to and count them as huge factors into helping mold me into who I have become.

All photos from Unsplash