I lost my sense of humor at an early age of sixteen. Actually, not really lost, it was just that what I considered funny, as I discovered in that stage in my life, was not at all humorous in the opinion of others. It happened like this. Every year during our class Christmas party, we would hold what we called the Kalabasa Awards. Kalabasa Awards are given to students in our class who have made such a distinguishing impression that they have to be awarded for it. Various awards are given out ranging from "Most Bolero" to "Most Sipsip." And I got, "in recognition of outstanding individual excellence" as the plaque read, the "Corniest Award." It didn't strike me then that I was indeed least humorous. Sure I've made some really weird and far out side comments in attempts to make people laugh, but I didn't realize that I was that bad, until that one incident that proved that I was indeed worthy of such an award.

Every Tuesday, as a part of our Socio-Economics class, our section would go to Pura V. Kalaw Elementary School in Project four to tutor grade six students. Most of the time, we would go there by bus. It would only take less than 10 minutes to get there. Let me tell you: a lot can happen in the short span of ten minutes. It was the usual commotion inside the bus. Enzo would sing sentimental songs with his rocker voice as Joes strummed away on his guitar. Julius and his gang would call each other names as Toto made different kinds of noises to muffle the next insult addressed to him. Jam would punch Lovine and vice versa just for the hell of it. Rolly would shout Mon's phone number at all the female by-standers. At the back of the bus, Brixx would read aloud that day's issue of "Dear Xerex" as his faithful listeners would smirk endlessly. It was that type of ruckus that went on inside the bus. It was the type that even a storm couldn't silence. Nothing could have made my class quiet... but me.

I can't remember exactly what it was that I said. All I remember was that it was addressed to Lovine and that I said it really loud so that everyone would hear my attempt to humiliate him. It backfired. I was expecting a roaring of laughter, but to my surprise and everyone else's, the whole bus, except for its engine of course, fell silent. It was like something out of a movie when things would be in slow motion and no sound was heard. Everyone was dumb-struck! Finally, someone (God, bless his soul) was able to come out of the trance and was able to comment in an exclamatory tone, "Coooornyyy!" It was only then when the roaring of laughter came. It lasted until we finally got to the school. They say that I was as red as a tomato.

When I got off the bus and walked to the tutoring center, I got to thinking maybe my brain pattern just didn't match with theirs. Maybe it was because they didn't hear me right. Or maybe, I was just corny.

So what's wrong with being corny, besides the fact that you end up being the only one to laugh at your jokes? My ill sense of humor is actually a blessing more than a curse. This realization came from right under my nose as it pulled on my plain white shirt. "Kuya, what will you teach us today?"

I am only beginning to realize that my type of humor was my greatest tool in teaching those kids. Getting the attention of those eleven, twelve, year olds is very key for a successful tutoring session. My jokes helped a lot as a start off point for a new lesson. What fourth year students inside a crowded bus did not comprehend, these innocent children cherished with their laughter. My humor made them happy and in the mood to learn. That made me happy too.

I never looked negatively at this handicap called "corniness." In fact, I'm proud of it. I hang my Corniest Award in my room with pride simply because I like who I am and I am proud of what I can do. It's all a matter of directing your abilities where they would be put to good use. This trait of mine may not have helped me in making my peers laugh, but it did put smiles on some little faces.