Our first assignment for Journalism 102 (News Reporting) under Professor Lourdes “Chit” Estella-Simbulan, was to write a lead on the walkouts staged against the budget cut for state colleges and universities. She returned our work the following week, with a disclaimer: “I have here your papers. Please don’t be discouraged.”
Naturally, we were.
As terror slowly crept into our faces, she added with a smile: “You still have a long way to go, but you’ll improve.” That was something we held on to throughout the semester.
Ma’am Simbulan put a premium on working with what was given—no more, no less—while gleaning the relevance of each news event. “There are no small beats—only small reporters,” she once said.
She liked to challenge students to become better versions of themselves, both inside and outside the classroom. Mid-January this year, I contemplated running as an independent candidate in the college student council. The idea of running without a party seemed daunting, I decided to wait it out instead, and to try my luck next voting season.
On January 18, the point of discussion turned to the upcoming council elections, and Ma’am asked if any of us were participating. No one raised their hands. She told our class then, “Oh, you should run. It’s a memorable experience.”
I would later find out that the deadline for filing certificates of candidacy (COC) was moved to the following day, January 19. After much deliberation, I trooped to the admin office that afternoon and submitted my COC.
It was in J102 that I delivered my first room-to-room speech. I hadn’t gotten the hang of my spiel yet, and I struggled with some parts of it. Ma’am and I were seated at opposite ends of the conference table, so whenever I looked ahead, I would see her looking right back, listening.
Storyteller at heart
She was as much a storyteller as she was a journalist. Our sessions were filled with her lively anecdotes, observations, and instructions. One of her pieces of advice for us was to talk to people who are usually ignored, because beneath their unassuming silence lay a trove of valuable information.
Ma’am Simbulan was among the most patient professors I ever had. On days when we had an article due, it was almost inevitable for some of us students to be tardy or absent. She never chided anyone in front of the class, even those who crept in a good 30 or more minutes after the start of the session.
Once, my classmate Eunille Santos and I rushed to finish an article for 102 in the journalism department. Ma’am arrived past 10 am, and upon seeing us huddled over laptop, asked in her usual calm voice, “Anong ginagawa niyo rito? Let’s go.” In the brief seconds before she closed the department door behind her, we replied with a smile and uneasy laughter: “Sige lang po, Ma’am.”
Did Eunille and I try to enter the room only to find the door locked? No. Did we learn and submit the rest of our articles on time after that? Yes.
She was also quick to laugh at herself. Many times, she blamed her lack of spatial awareness for her inability to maneuver the live–view projector we used in class.
Much has been said and written about Ma’am Simbulan’s strong sense of conviction. She was as steadfast in her principles as she was in the littlest things. During the campaign, she invited me and candidates from the opposing political parties to a press conference. My classmates and I were to cover the event and submit a news article about it the following week.
At the end of the conference, she expressed her gratitude to each candidate. “Thank you, Alisa,” she told the first party’s secretary hopeful. To the second party’s chairperson bet, she said, “Thank you, Norman.” Then she turned to me. Ma’am addressed everyone by their last name inside the classroom, with no exceptions. “Thank you, Miss Britanico. You’re still my student, so you’re still Miss Britanico to me,” she said with a grin.
Finding answers
Ma’am once said that journalism was a Promethean endeavor. Facts are not flowers reporters can pick at their own leisure; they are more like game animals, always on the move, always demanding a chase. But of the 5Ws and H of journalism, I find that the “why” is especially difficult to come by. Some questions just don’t have immediate answers, and even when they do, the answers are not always gratifying.
I have been monitoring the news, and there has been great attention to the traffic on Commonwealth Avenue since the accident last May 13. Radio announcers broadcasted that the MMDA will install motorcycle patrol units along the “killer highway” to immediately respond to, if not thwart, any more road accidents in the area.
Sometimes when the answer to “why” seems too out of reach, “what now” is the next best question to answer. Then the “what,” no matter how undesirable or tragic, will be given context.
At the risk of having Ma’am Simbulan “tsk-tsk” at me for lack of attribution, I shall quote something she said as relayed to the worldwide web by one of her students: “I hope you will use your skills to turn this country upside down.”
When we recall Ma’am Simbulan’s teachings and how they have touched us in many ways, we will do so the same way our mind’s eyes see her—with a smile. Just as the brightest sun is made to set, her life has come to an end, but not without streaming rays of hope and warmth to the ones she left behind.
She once told our class, “You still have a long way to go, but you’ll improve.” That is something we will continue to hold on to, for ourselves and for the country she loved and served. Because in death as in life, Ma’am Lourdes “Chit” Estella-Simbulan did not only teach by example—she did better than the instruction.
Veteran journalist and university professor Lourdes “Chit” Estella Simbulan, 54, was killed in a vehicular crash along Commonwealth Avenue in Quezon City last May 13, 2011.
