By Limeya Roa Escabarte
CAGAYAN DE ORO CITY (MindaNews / 21 Oct) — When I was 15, my family moved from the small town of Ozamiz City in the Philippines to the overwhelming chaos of New York. I was in my third year of high school back home, just one year from graduation—back then, K-12 wasn’t even a thing yet. But the New York school system, based on my age, placed me back in 9th grade. Fresh from a tiny provincial life, we were too shell-shocked by the big city to fight it. And honestly, I’m grateful we didn’t. Imagine thrusting a 16-year-old me into college amid New York’s cutthroat culture, bold personalities, and clashing beliefs—I wasn’t ready. It felt like a divine intervention, giving me time to breathe and adapt.
I spoke fluent English, thanks to years in a school with an English-only policy, though my accent gave me away. Still, as a new immigrant, I was required to start in ESL (English as a Second Language). It lasted barely a week before they moved me to regular 9th-grade English. That’s where I got my first raw taste of Western high school life.
Grouped with three classmates for the year, one was an Italian guy my age. Right away, in front of everyone, he blurted out, “Are you a virgin?” Confidently, I said, yes. He laughed in shock at my honesty, then mocked me: “You’re probably the only girl in this class—or the whole school—who is. Don’t be proud of it; it’s not normal.” Thanks to endless Disney Channel and Cartoon Network growing up, I wasn’t fazed. I shrugged and said, “Oh well.” He was amused and baffled.
I didn’t stay long. Within a month, my teacher tested me out, and I advanced to 10th grade English. Probably for the best—God knows how that class might have chipped away at my sense of self.
I never saw that guy again on campus. I attended that New York school for two years before moving to Texas, but he vanished from my world. That’s American high school for you: different classmates per subject, some only for a semester. Opportunities for deep bonds? Rare. In the Philippines, my classmates were my lifelong friends—many I’m still close with, reuniting in person now that I’m back. Even back then, I formed close friendships with students in lower grades, including my sister’s classmates, creating a web of connections that spanned the school like family. In New York, only a handful of Filipino kids from after-school hangouts remain Facebook friends. The rest? I can’t even recall their names.
That fleeing, superficial high school experience haunts me now as a parent. Here in the Philippines, with my kids in their third year of school, they’re forging unbreakable ties with classmates—deep, enduring friendships that eco what I once had. I’m witnessing the same magic in them: close bonds with students from lower grades, even crossing into siblings’ circles, just like I experience. My husband and I have grown close to their parents, too, sharing life’s ups and downs. And the teachers, the administrators—we’re in it together, building community in ways that feel organic and profound.
I’m not saying it’s impossible elsewhere; it just takes deliberate effort to create that closeness. But here, it’s the norm, woven into the fabric of life. Watching my children thrive in this environment fills me with gratitude and hope. It reminds me that true belonging isn’t about rushing ahead or fitting into a mold—it’s about roots that run deep, relationships that last, and a sense of home that no city lights can outshine.
So, to anyone who’s graduated in the US or Philippines: What’s your fondest high school memory? How many classmates do you still talk to these days? Do you look forward to your yearly school reunions? Share your stories—I’d love to hear them!
(Limeya first posted this on her Facebook account, republished with permission. Limeya moved back to the Philippines three years ago since migrating to the US in 2004. Now based in Cagayan de Oro City, she busies herself as a doting home maker to her three children and entrepreneur husband while baking pastries on the side.)
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