Walked in with Lapel; Left with Insight
By: Jordin D. Abalecio
Students often misjudged him at first. With his glasses already on and his lapel in hand, paired with a serious expression that could quiet a hallway, he looked like the kind of teacher everyone feared on the first day. No books, no laptop, no papers. But once he started speaking, the whole room softened. The tension faded, the lessons flowed, and the “strict” teacher suddenly revealed a talent for making difficult topics feel simple and comforting, even without slides or textbooks. He did not just enter a classroom, he transformed it.
Inside his classroom, learning never followed the usual script. There were no pages to flip, no slides to stare at, and no long lists of terms to memorize. Instead, his lessons came alive through conversations, sudden questions, and stories that sounded ordinary at first but ended with insights that stayed with you. He spoke with ease, almost casually, yet every explanation seemed to untangle confusion you didn’t even know you had. Students often wondered how he managed to make a complicated lesson feel like a simple thought you just had not reached yet, perhaps shaped by the depth of someone who earned his Doctor of Communication from the University of the Philippines Open University.
His teaching was not about pressure, it was about presence. He listened as much as he spoke, and when someone struggled, he didn’t push them to exhaustion. Instead, he reminded them, “Kung di mo kaya, di pag ubraha. Chill eang.” At first, those words sounded like jokes, but over time, they became reminders that learning should not break you. Students found comfort in the idea that effort does not need to come with fear, that growth doesn’t need to come with panic. He made school feel survivable, even during the days when everything else felt too heavy.
What students remember most are not the facts, but the moments. The debates that filled the room with ideas, the Philosophy lesson that brought some to tears because they felt understood, the competition trips where he treated his students like teammates, and the quiet hotel walks that turned into unexpected life lessons. Behind these memories was the mentor who also worked as the District Innovation Coordinator and Campus Journalism Focal Person, proof of his dedication beyond the classroom.
Even those who thought he was strict soon discovered the kindness behind his calm tone. He didn’t raise his voice, yet his words reached everyone. He didn’t need flashy presentations, yet students remembered every detail he explained. He did not flood them with activities, yet they learned more deeply than they expected. His influence was not loud, but it was strong enough to shape choices, beliefs, and even careers.
Years after the last bell rang and the last lesson ended; his influence continued to echo in the lives of those who once sat in his classroom. Students who doubt themselves now teach with confidence. Students who once felt lost now move through life with gentler hearts. And every now and then, in stressful moments, they hear his voice reminding them softly: “Just chill.”
Teaching without books or slides was never a limitation, it was his invitation for students to listen, to think, to feel, and to trust the process. And because of him, many learned that real learning does not always come from materials, but from mentors who teach with sincerity, courage, and truth.
Through all the school years that passed, one thing became clear. He didn’t just teach his students how to answer questions. He taught them how to think, how to understand, how to breathe, and how to be brave in their own quiet ways.
To the former School Paper Focal Person of Maloco National High School, may you find genuine fulfilment in your new endeavor, and may our paths cross again beyond the school grounds. The entire Maloco National High School community and all members of The Hilltop will always remain grateful for the service you have rendered.
Au Revoir, Sir NEL P. GREGORIO.
