The good in being simple
Simple, as usual, turned out to be good. Class 89 of the UP College of Law was celebrating its 25th anniversary, but instead of the razzle dazzle of large sums of money being thrown around in fits of clueless spending, the batch thought of focusing on inexpensive, but effective, ways to amuse the jaded alumni, the fat cats licking the cream off the cutthroat profession that is lawyering.
For the first time in many years, the incessant chatter of lawyers who hadn't seen each other in years or even decades died down. Self-important or self- satisfied successful barristers who couldn't be bothered to pay attention to keynote speakers actually focused and listened (and even clapped).
First, the batch focused on honoring their mentors. While names and pictures of the professors that had initiated them into the profession were flashed on all four walls of the ballroom, the audience began smiling, and then clapping and cheering. It turned out that the sharks had not forgotten who had honed them and prepared them for life in the vicious ocean ahead.
This homecoming has seen presidents, vice-presidents, various justices and senators deliver the key note speech. Yet Batch 89 asked one of their professors, former dean Bart Carale to do them this honor.
A bemused Carale immediately noted that his choice seemed out of place after reviewing the history of the former speakers. In fact, President Aquinos (mother and son) had come and gone before him. Yet, it turned out the class picked a winner, as the simple narrative delivered by the frail old man, while sitting down and coughing once in a while, compelled the attention of generations of his students.
Recounting small anecdotes, harking to his days as a student, recalling the foibles of distinguished alumni who were hapless acolytes at that time, and diminishing ambassadors and justices as students who barely made the grade or didn't make an impression, the dean held the audience in thrall and kept the members in stitches.
This was a far cry from self-aggrandizing alumni in previous editions of the homecoming who had used the pulpit to deliver "inspiring" messages nobody paid attention to. It became embarrassing, actually, that unruly alumni would take selfies and propose toasts at individual tables while the speakers droned on. When the speeches would end, there would be desultory applause and big sighs of relief.
Dean Carale ended with one terse statement, a message that brought the spellbound listeners to their feet: "You do us proud."
It was both a judgment, on the legions of students that had gone out and made a name for themselves, and a command, for those who might not think they had earned it yet. It was a message, that at the end of the day, all of us had a duty to the institution that had given us nearly free education. It was a vessel of hope, like all proud fathers have for their children, that as their wards make their way in life, they would find their place in the sun.
It was all of those in this half-impromptu speech, and the teacher had effectively captured all those ideas and hopes and dreams in that single statement. Immediate standing ovation.
I contrast this with the year when one class had brought in Lea Salonga and Sam Milby. Another class trucked in the UP Pep Squad. Jon Santos performed his Miriam Defensor Santiago impression. Yet none of those were as full of impact or as memorable as an old professor reliving the days.
I could have been just in a sentimental mood that night. But there was no denying the standing ovation that was triggered by that unstructured speech, one that focused on the basics. As we were when we were young idealistic students, we were once again inspired.
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