“Do it, don’t just try,” he advised a student. I can’t recall the context, but I vividly remember the student beginning his answer with, “I’ll try to…” Those words were etched in my mind. To this day, whenever I write reflections or journals, I usually omit the word “try” and replace it with “I’ll do it.”
Good, kind, neat, humorous, intelligent, friendly, humble, and spiritual. Those were the words they used to describe Mr. Junius Agbuya. He was our Science teacher and became our adviser when we were in Grade 8. I’m one of his students, a timid girl who used to hate Science, but I grew to like the subject because of his incredible teaching. Even after he transferred to another diocesan school, my love for Science remained, and I even received the Best in Science award during my Junior High School moving-up ceremony.
Before leaving the school, Mr. Junius approached me and encouraged me to enlist in photojournalism for the next school year. He was our student publication adviser at that time. Months later, he even sent me a message to remind me to enlist. His encouragement planted a seed that eventually grew into my passion for photojournalism. By Grade 10, I finally had the chance to join our student publication as a photojournalist.
College applications came so fast, and my eyes searched for the closest degree program to journalism. Sir Junius’ belief in my capability in photojournalism influenced my decision to take the Bachelor of Arts in Communication, a 4-year degree program I enjoy and love. I’m grateful that I gave him an impromptu shoutout during an interview on Facebook Live, expressing that he is one of the reasons I pursued this path. Through a friend, he saw that video.
Little did I know that shoutout would be one of the last chances to express my gratitude to him. When news of his passing reached me, there was a heavy feeling. He has been struggling with acute lymphoblastic leukemia, which caused his death. My batchmates and I immediately decided to go to the first night of his wake.
As we sat, listening to songs accompanied by the strumming of a guitar, I reflected on his impact on my life. When heartfelt stories watered with tears began to pour out, I was and still am amazed at how he touched the lives of his students and co-teachers. He encouraged his students, who seemed to lose hope due to life’s challenges. He found ways to look for a skincare clinic for a student struggling with confidence due to acne. He even bought a pair of shoes for a student in need. Also, he always buys tickets for a cause. He would also tell others, “Stay in the Philippines; our country still needs your help.”
Another tear-jerking story shared by his co-teacher recounted how he once questioned why he was the one who fell ill. Yet, a year later, he expressed acceptance, saying it was better that he bore the disease rather than his parents or siblings. He chose to endure the suffering himself to spare his family from the pain.
During the wake, attendees asked a question that lingered in my mind. “Apay ngata nu sino ti nasingpet, isu pay laeng ti maawan?” (Why is it that the kindest people are the ones taken away?) Perhaps it was because he didn’t just try—he did. He lived purposefully, doing whatever he could for the good of others, far beyond teaching. By Joan Dalacan
