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PREFACE

Welcome to Echoes of Literature: A Collection of

Stories — a module designed to guide students
through the rich and diverse world of literature. Each
story opens a window into human emotions,
experiences, and imagination, inviting readers to
reflect on life, society, and the choices that shape us.

Literature is more than words on a page; it

mirrors our dreams, struggles, and truths.
Through reading, analysis, and discussion,
learners will develop critical thinking, empathy,
and a deeper appreciation for storytelling.

This collection highlights timeless themes of

love, loss, courage, and hope — echoes that
continue to resonate in our lives. As you
journey through these pages, let the stories
speak to you, challenge you, and inspire a
lasting love for reading and discovery.

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 TABLE OF CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION Page
Preface……………………………………………………….....2

What I need to know.……………...............................................5

LESSON 1

Stimulating Activity 1.1………………......................................7

What’s New……………………………………………………11

Unlocking of Difficulties…………………………..………….12

Footnote to Youth………………………...................................13

ASSESSMENT TASK

Processing Task………………………………………………..24

Exercises…………….……………………...…………………25

Assignment……………………………………………………26

LESSON 2

What I need to Know………………………………………….28

Stimulating Activity 1.2……………………………………….29

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 Vocabulary Activity……............................................................30

What’s New………………………………................................32

The Mats by Francisco Arcellana…………………….………..33

ASSESSMENT TASK

Activity 1.1…………………………………………………….44

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 What I need to Know

INTRODUCTION
Stories are powerful vessels of human experience. They allow us to
witness life through the eyes of others, to feel emotions we may have
never known, and to understand the world in ways beyond our own
reality. Each story carries lessons, values, and reflections that mirror the
complexities of human nature. Through characters and plots, literature
captures both the beauty and struggles of life, reminding us that every
joy and sorrow holds meaning.

In this story, readers are invited to explore the depths of emotion, the
weight of choices, and the consequences that shape our lives. It unfolds
moments of truth and realization, teaching us that life is not merely
about what happens to us, but how we respond to it. As the narrative
progresses, it encourages reflection on love, loss, and the silent strength
within every human heart — a timeless reminder of what it truly means
to be alive.

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 LESSON FOOTNOTE TO YOUTH

1 By Jose Garcia Villa

Learning Outcomes

At the end of the lesson, the students should be able to;

1. Analyze how the cultural expectations and rural environment in

“Footnote to Youth” influenced Dodong’s decisions and their
consequences.

2. Appreciate the significance of responsible decision-making by

reflecting on the characters’ experiences and connecting them to
your own values.

3. Create a short role-playing scene depicting a crucial conversation

from the story, demonstrating an understanding of the characters’
motivations and the story’s context.

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 Essential Learning Competencies

i. Discover literature as a means of connecting to a

significant past.

ii. Explain how a selection may be influenced by culture,

history, environment, and other factors.

Stimulating Activity 1.1

Before we begin our journey, let’s see what you already know!

Direction: Choose the letter of the best answer for each question.

1. In traditional Filipino culture, what is a common expectation for young

people regarding marriage?

A. To marry as late as possible.

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 B. To marry someone chosen by their parents.
C. To focus on career before family.
D. To ask for a parent’s blessing before marrying.

2. What does the word “youth” refer to?

A. The period of being old.

B. The period between childhood and adulthood.
C. The time when one is a baby.
D. The time when one is a parent.

3. A “footnote” is usually a small note at the bottom of a page. What might

a “footnote to Youth” metaphorically mean?

A. A major, life-changing event.

B. A story about being young.
C. A small, often overlooked, comment or lesson about being young.
D. A guide on how to be a good teenager.

4. Which of the following is a common challenge associated with marrying

at a very young age?

A. Having too much freedom.

B. Financial stability and readiness.
C. Having too much travel time.
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 D. Earning too many awards.

5. The story is set in a rural farm. What kind of lifestyle would you expect
the characters to have?

A. A busy, modern life with gadgets.

B. A life of leisure and vacation.
C. A life centered on farming, hard work, and nature.
D. A life focused on city entertainment.

6. “History” can influence a story by showing:

A. What might happen in the future.

B. How people lived and what they believed in the past.
C. A completely imaginary world.
D. The author’s favorite color.

7. How does one’s “environment” or surroundings affect their life?

A. It has no effect at all.

B. It only affects the weather.
C. It shapes their job, daily activities, and beliefs.
D. It only changes the language they speak.

8. Why is it important to learn from the past?

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 A. To repeat the same mistakes.
B. To understand the present and make better choices for the future.
C. To live exactly like people from long ago.
D. To prove that the past was boring.

9. What does the term “cycle of life” often mean in stories?

A. The changing of the season.

B. The invention of the bicycle.
C. A pattern of events or actions that repeats across generations.
D. A person’s daily routine.

10. What is a key element of a “coming-of-age” story?

A. A character who never changes.

B. A character who learns a difficult lesson and matures.
C. A story about magical creatures.
D. A story with no main character.

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 What’s New

Jose Garcia Villa (1908-1997)

• was a Filipino poet, literary critic, and short story writer. He was known for
his experimental and sometimes rebellious style. He was declared a National
Artist of the Philippines for Literature in 1973. “Footnote to Youth” is one of
his most famous and enduring short stories, often studied in schools for its
powerful message about the repeating cycles of life.
• “Doveglion”, pen names which stands for Dove, Eagle, and Lion —
symbols that represent his personality: Dove for gentleness, Eagle for
vision, and Lion for strength.
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 • “Comma Poet” — because he used commas in a unique way to mark pauses
and rhythm in his poems.

Unlocking of Difficulties

 Climacteric: A turning point or very important stage in life.

 Areca nut: A seed often chewed in some Asian countries,
usually wrapped in betel leaves.
 Fragrant: Having a pleasant smell or scent.
 Leisurely: Done in a relaxed or unhurried way.
 Virility: The quality of being strong, full of energy, or
manly.
 Camiseta: A thin undershirt or sleeveless shirt often worn
by Filipino men.
 Hilot: A traditional Filipino midwife or healer.
 Tremulous: Shaking or trembling slightly, often from
emotion or weakness.
 Querulous: Complaining or showing irritation.
 Resented: Felt bitterness or anger toward something or
someone.

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 FOOTNOTE TO YOUTH

By Jose Garcia Villa

The sun was salmon and hazy in the west. Dodong thought to himself he
would tell his father about Teang when he got home, after he had
unhitched the carabao from the plow, and led it to its shed and fed it. He
was hesitant about saying it, he wanted his father to know what he had to
say was of serious importance as it would mark a climacteric in his life.
Dodong finally decided to tell it, but a thought came to him that his
father might refuse to consider it. His father was a silent hardworking
farmer, who chewed areca nut, which he had learned to do from his
mother, Dodong’s grandmother.

He wished as he looked at her that he had a sister who could help his
mother In the housework.

I will tell him. I will tell it to him.

The ground was broken up into many fresh wounds and fragrant with a
sweetish earthy smell. Many slender soft worm emerged from the further
rows and then burrowed again deeper into the soil. A short colorless

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worm marched blindly to Dodong’s foot and crawled clammilu over it.
Dodong got tickled and jerked his foot, flinging the worm into the air.
Dodong did not bother to look where into the air, but thought of his age,
seventeen, and he said to himself he was not young anymore.

Dodong unhitched the carabao leisurely and fave it a healthy tap on the
hip. The beast turned its head to look at him with dumb faithful eyes.
Dodong gave it a slight push and the animal walked alongside him to its
shed. He placed bundles of grass before it and the carabao began to eat.
Dodong looked at it without interest.

Dodong started homeward thinking how he would break his news to his
father. He wanted to marry, Dodong did. He was seventeen, he had
pimples on his face, then down on his upper lip was dark-these meant he
was no longer a boy. He was growing into a man he was a man. Dodong
felt insolent and big at the thought of it, although he was by nature low
in stature.

Thinking himself man-grown, Dodong felt he could do anything.

He walked faster, prodded by the thought of his virility. A small angled

stone bled his foot, but he dismissed it cursorily. He lifted his leg and
looked at the hurt toe and then went on walking. In the cool sundown, he
thought wild young dreams of himself and Teang, his girl. She had a
small brown face and small black eyes and straight glossy hair. How

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desirable she was to him. She made him want to touch her to hold her.
She made him dream even during the day.

Dodong tensed with desire and looked at the muscle of his arms. Dirty.
This fieldwork was healthy invigorating, but it begrimed you, smudged
you terribly. He turned back the way he had come, then marched
obliquely to a creek.

Must you marry, Dodong?”

Dodong resented his father’s question; his father himself had married
early.

Dodong stripped himself and laid his clothes, a gray under shirt and red
kundiman shorts, on the grass. Then he went into the water, wet his body
over and rubbed at it vigorously. He was not long in bathing, then he
marched homeward again. The bath made him feel cool.

It was dusk when he reached home. The petroleum lamp on the ceiling
was already lighted and the low unvarnished square table was set for
supper. He and his parents sat down on the floor around the table to eat.
They had fried freshwater fish, and rice, but did not partake of the fruit.
The bananas were overripe and when one held the, they felt more fluid
than solid. Dodong broke off a piece of caked sugar, dipped it in his
glass. Of water and ate it. He got another piece and wanted some more,
but he thought of leaving the remainder for his parent.

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Dodong’s mother removed the dishes when they were through, and went
with slow careful steps and Dodong wanted to help her carry the dishes
out. But he was tired and now, felt lazy. He wished as he looked at her
that he had a sister who could help his mother in the housework. He
pitied her, doing all the housework alone.

His father remained in the room, sucking a diseased tooth. It was paining
him, again. Dodong knew, Dodong had told him often and again to let
the town dentist pull it out, but he was afraid, his father was. He did not
tell that to Dodong, but Dodong guessed it. Afterward, Dodong himself
thought that if he had a decayed tooth, he would be afraid to go to the
dentist; he would not be any bolder than his father.

Dodong said while his mother was out that he was going to marry Teang.
There it was out, what we had to say, and over which he head said it
without any effort at all and without self-consciousness. Dodong felt
relived and looked at his father expectantly.

A decresent moon outside shed its feebled light into the window, graying
the still black temples of his father. His father look old now.

“I am going to marry Teang.” Dodong said.

His father looked at him silently and stopped sucking the broken tooth.
The silence became intense and cruel, and Dodong was uncomfortable
and then became very angry because his father kept looking at him
without uttering anything.

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“I will marry Teang.” Dodong repeated. “I will marry Teang.”

His father kept gazing at him in flexible silence and Dodong fidgeted on
his seat.

1 asked her last night to marry me and she said… “Yes. I want your
permission… I… want… it…” There was an impatient clamor in his
voice, an exacting protest at his coldness, this indifference. Dodong
looked. At his father sourly. He cracked his knuckles one by one, and the
little sound it made broke dully the night stillness.

“Must you marry, Dodong?

Dodong resented his father’s question; his father himself had married
early. Dodong made a quick impassioned essay in his mind about
selfishness, but later, he got confused.

“You are very young. Dodong.”

“I’m seventeen.”

“That’s very young to get married at.”

“I… I want to marry… Teang’s a good girl…

“Tell your mother,” his father said.

“You tell her. Tatay.”

“Dodong, you tell your Inay.”

“You tell her.”

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“All right, Dodong.”

“All right, Dodong.”

“You will let me marry Teang?”

“Son, if that is your wish… of course…” There was a strange helpless

light in his father’s eyes. Dodong did not read it. Foo absorbed was he in
himself. Dodong was immensely glad he has asserted himself. He lost
his resentment for his father, for a while, he even felt sorry for him about
the pain I his tooth. Then he confined his mind dreaming of Teang and
himself.

Sweet young dreams….

Dodong stood in the sweltering noon heat, sweating profusely so that his
camiseta was damp. He was still like a tree and his thoughts were
confused. His mother had told him not to leave the house, but he had
left.

He wanted to get out of it without clear reason at all. He was afraid, he

felt afraid of the house. It had seemingly caged him, to compress his
thoughts with severe tyranny. He was also afraid of Teang who was
giving birth in the house; she face screams that chilled his blood. He did
not want her to scream like that. He began to wonder madly if the
process of childbirth was really painful. Some women, when they gave
birth, did not cry.

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In a few moments he would be a father.

“Father, father,” he whispered the word with awe, with strangeness. He

was young, he realized now contradicting himself of nine months ago.
He was very young… He felt queer, troubled, uncomfortable.

Dodong felt tired of standing. He sat down on a saw-horse with his feet
close together. He looked at his calloused toes. Then he thought,
supposed he had ten children…

The journey of thought came to a halt when he heard his mother’s voice
from the house.

Some how, he was ashamed to his mother of his youthful paternity. It

made him feel guilty, as if he had taken something not properly his.

“Come up. Dodong. It is over.”

Suddenly, he felt terribly embarrassed as he looked at her. Somehow, he

was ashamed to his mother of his youthful paternity. It made him feel
guilty, as if he has taken something not properly his. He dropped his
eyes and pretended to dust off his kundiman shorts.

“Dodong.” His mother called again. “Dodong.”

He turned to look again and this time, he saw his father beside his
mother.

“It is a boy.” His father said. He beckoned Dodong to come up.

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Dodong felt more embarrassed and did not move. His parent’s eyes
seemed to pierce through him so he felt limp. He wanted to hide or even
run away from them.

“Dodong, you come up. You come up.” His mother said.

Dodong did not want to come up. He’d rather stayed in the sun.

“Dodong… Dodong.”

I’ll… come up.

Dodong traced the tremulous steps on the dry parched yard. He ascended
the bamboo steps slowly. His heart pounded mercilessly in him. Within,
he avoided his parent’s eyes. He walked ahead of them so that they
should not see his face. He felt guilty and untrue. He felt like crying. His
eyes smarted and his chest wanted to burst. He wanted to turn back, to
go back to the yard. He wanted somebody to punish him.

“Son,” his father said.

And his mother. “Dodong..”

How kind their voices were. They flowed. Into him, making him strong.

“Teang?” Dodong said.

“She’s sleeping. But you go in…

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His father led him into the small seawall room. Dodong saw Teang, his
wife, asleep on the paper with her soft black hair around her face. He did
not want her to look that pale.

Dodong wanted to touch her, to push away that stray wisp of hair that
touched her lips. But again that feeling of embarrassment came over
him, and before his parent, he did not want to be demonstrative.

The hilot was wrapping the child Dodong heard him cry. The thin voice
touched his heart. He could not control the swelling of happiness in him.

“You give him to me. You give him to me,” Dodong said.

Blas was not Dodong’s only child. Many more children came. For six
successive years, a new child came along. Dodong did not want any
more children. But they came. It seemed that the coming of children
could not helped. Dodong got angry with himself sometimes.

Teang did not complain, but the bearing of children tolled on her. She
was shapeless and thin even if she was young. There was interminable
work that kept her tied up. Cooking, laundering. The house. The
children. She cried sometimes, wishing she had no married. She did not
tell Dodong this, not wishing him to dislike her. Yet, she wished she had
not married. Not even Dodong whom she loved. There had nine another
suitor, Lucio older than Dodong by nine years and that was why she had
chosen Dodong. Young Dodong who was only seventeen. Lucio had
married another. Lucio, she wondered, would she have born him

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children? Maybe not, either. That was a better lot. But she loved
Dodong… in the moonlight, tired and querulous. He wanted. To ask
questions and somebody to answer him. He wanted to be wise about
many thins.

Life did not fulfill all of Youth’s dreams.

Why must be so? Why one was forsaken…. After love?

One of them was why life did not fulfill all of the youth dreams. Why it
must be so. Why one was forsaken… after love.

Dodong could not find the answer. Maybe the question was not to be
answered. It must be so to make youth. Youth must be dream fully
sweet. Dream fully sweet.

Dodong returned to the house, humiliated by himself. He had wanted to

know little wisdom but was denied it.

When Blas was eighteen, he came home one night, very flustered and
happy. Dodong heard Blas steps for he could not sleep well at night. He
watched Blass undress in the dark and lie down softly, Blas was restless
on his mat and could not sleep. Dodong called his name and asked why
he did not sleep.

You better go to sleep. It is late.” Dodong said.

Life did not fulfill all of youth’s dreams. Why it must be so? Why one
was forsaken after love?

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“Itay..” Blas called softly.

Dodong stirred and asked him what it was..

“I’m going to marry Tona. She accepted me tonight.

“Itay, you think its over.”

Dodong lay silent.

I loved Tona and… I want her.”

Dodong rose from his mat and told Blas to follow him. They descended
to the yard where everything was still and quiet.

The moonlight was cold and white.

“You want to marry Tona, Dodong said, although he did not want Blas to
marry yet. Blas was very young. The life that would follow marriage
would be hard…

“Yes.”

“Must you marry?””

Blas voice was steeled with resentment. “I will marry Tona.”

“You have objection, Itay?” Blas asked acridly.

“Son… non…” But for Dodong, he do anything. Youth must triumph…

now, Afterward… It will be life. As long ago. Youth and Love did
triumph for Dodong… and then life.

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Dodong looked wistfully at his young son in the moonlight. He felt
extremely sad and sorry for him.

Reference: [Link]
to-Youth

PROCESSING TASK

After reading “Footnote to Youth,” answer the following

questions in your notebook:

1. Why did Dodong want to marry Teang even though he was

still very young? What does this show about how he
understood love?
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2. What happened to Dodong and Teang’s life after they got

 EXERCISES

This activity will test your understanding and creativity!

Instructions:

1. Form groups of 4-5 members.

2. Your group’s task is to create a 2-3 minute role-playing scene
based on one of the

Following scenarios:
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○ Scenario A: The Advice. Imagine Dodong’s father gives him more
direct advice about waiting. What would he say, and how would Dodong
react?

○ Scenario B: A Different Future. Blas is 18 and tells Dodong he wants

to marry. Using the lesson he learned, what does Dodong say to Blas
now? (This is a “what if” scenario where he tries to break the cycle).

○ Scenario C: A Woman’s View. Imagine an older Teang is talking to

Blas’s future wife. What advice or warnings would she give her about
love, dreams, and the realities of being a young wife and mother?

3. Once your group has chosen a scenario, write a short script. Make
sure the dialogue shows the characters’ feelings and motivations.
4. Practice your scene and be ready to perform it in front of the class!

Grading Rubric:
● Understanding (10 pts): The scene clearly shows a
deep understanding of the story’s themes and characters.
● Creativity (5 pts): The dialogue is original, believable,
and engaging.
● Performance (5 pts): The group members deliver their
lines clearly and with appropriate

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 ASSIGNMENT

Instructions:

1. Interview an elder in your family or community (a grandparent,

grand-aunt, grand-uncle, or an elderly neighbor). Ask them for
permission to ask a few questions about their youth.
2. Use the following guide questions for your interview. You may add
your own!

○ What were your biggest dreams when you were a teenager?

○ What were the cultural or family expectations for young people back
then, especially about love and marriage?

○ What was the most important lesson you learned as a young adult?

○ What advice would you give to young people today about making big
life decisions?

3. After the interview, write a reflection in your notebook. In your

reflection. Answer the following:
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○ What was the most interesting or surprising thing you learned from
your interview?

○ How are the experiences of the person you interviewed similar to

different from dodong’s story in “Footnote to Youth”?

○ How did this conversation help you understand the past and connect it
to your own life today?

Deadline: To be submitted next meeting.

LESSON THE MATS

By Francisco Arcellana

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What I need to Know

Upon completion of this selection, you are expected to:

i. Identify the important details and events in the story “The Mats”
ii. Explain the meaning of the mats and what they show about the
family’s love and memories,
iii. Value family relationship especially these trying times,
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 iv. Write a letter addressed to your dead loved ones, and:
v. Do the task related to the selection.

Essential Learning Competency:

i. Discover literature as a means of connecting to a significant

past.
ii. Express appreciation for sensory images used

Stimulating Learning Activity

Instructions: Look at the picture carefully. Identify what best describes

shown in the picture. Write your answers in your notebook.

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Well, how was it? Do you think you hit the right answers? Check them
using the Answer key page. If you done it well, then, that’s good!
Confident enough? You might learn new things from this module. Are
you ready? Let’s begin.

Vocabulary Enrichment

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 Introduction

The Filipino is known for being kind, respectful and family-oriented.

Filipino value strong family ties, hospitality, and helping others in times
of need. Filipinos are also resilient and optimistic, facing challenges
with a smile and a hopeful heart. Hence, in this module, the lesson is
presented in an understandable language, which can be easily grasped by
most learners and unlocking of unfamiliar words are provided. They are
equipped with the knowledge to do the different activities and exercises.
In this module, you will experience meaningful learning and gain deep
understanding of the relevant competencies. You can do it!

What’s new

FRANCISCO ARCELLANA

National Artist for Literature (1990)

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 Writer, poet, essayist, critic, journalist, and teacher

 He is one of the most important progenitors of the modern

Filipino short story in English.

Born: September 6, 1916

Died: August 1, 2002

[Link]
national-artists-of-thephilippines/francisco-arcellana/

THE MATS

By Francisco Arcellana

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For the Angeles family, Mr. Angeles' homecoming from his
periodic inspection trips was always an occasion for celebration.
But his homecoming from a trip to the South-was fated to be
more memorable than any of the others.

He had written from Mariveles: "I have met a marvelous mat

weaver a real artist -and I shall have a surprise for you. I asked
him to weave a sleeping-mat for every one in the family. He is
using many different tools and for each mat the dominant color
is that of our respective birthstones. I am sure that the children
will be very pleased. I know you will be. I can hardly wait to
show them to you."
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Nana Emilia read the letter that morning, and again and again
every time she had a chance to leave the kitchen. In the evening,
when all the children were home from school she had asked her
oldest son, Jose, to read the letter at the dinner table. The
children became very much excited about the mats, and talked
about them until late into the night. This she wrote her husband
when she labored over a reply to him. For days after that the
mats continued to be the chief topic of conversation among the
children.

Finally, from Lopez, Mr. Angeles wrote again: "I am taking the
Bicol Express tomorrow. I have the mats with me, and they are
beautiful. God willing, I shall be home to join you at dinner."

The letter was read aloud during the noon meal. Talk about the
mats flared up again like wildfire.

"I like the feel of mats," Antonio, the third child, said. "I like the
smell of new mats." "Oh, but these mats are different,"
interposed Susanna, the fifth child. "They have our names
woven into them, and in our ascribed colours, too."

The children knew what they were talking about: they knew just
what a decorative mat was like; it was not anything new or
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strange in their experience. That was why they were so excited
about the matter. They had such a mat in the house, one they
seldom used, a mat older than any of them.

This mat had been given to Nana Emilia by her mother when she
and Mr. Angeles. Were married, and it had been with them ever
since. It had served on the wedding night, and had not since
been used except on special occasions.

It was a very beautiful mat, not really meant to be ordinarily

used. It had green leaf borders, and a lot of gigantic red roses
woven into it. In the middle, running the whole length of the
mat, was the lettering:

Emilia y Jaime Recuerdo

The letters were in gold.

Nana Emilia always kept that mat in her trunk. When anyone of
the family was taken ill, the mat was brought out and the patient
slept on it, had it all to himself. Everyone of the children had
sometime in his life slept on it; not a few had slept on it more
than once. Most of the time, the mat was kept in Nana Emilia’s
trunk, and when it was taken out and spread on the floor the

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children were always around to watch. At first there had been
only Nana Emilia and Mr. Angeles to see the mat spread. Then a
child – a girl -watched with them. The number of watchers
increased as more children came.

The mat did not seem to age. It seemed to Nana Emilia always
as new as when it had been laid on the nuptial bed. To the
children it seemed as new as the first time it was spread before
them. The folds and creases seemed always new and fresh. The
smell was always the smell of a new mat. Watching the intricate
design was an. Endless joy. The children’s pleasure at the golden
letters even before they could work out the meaning was
boundless. Somehow they were always pleasantly shocked by
the sight of the mat: so delicate and so consummate the artistry
of its weave.

Now, taking out that mat to spread had become a kind of ritual.
The process had become associated with illness in the family.
Illness, even serious illness, had not been infrequent. There had
been deaths….

In the evening Mr. Angeles was with his family. He had brought
the usual things home with him. There was a lot of fruit, as

37
always (his itinerary carried him through the fruit-growing
provinces): pineapples, lanzones, chicos, atis, santol, sandia,
guyabano, avocado, according to the season. He had also
brought home a jar of preserved sweets from Lopez

Putting away the fruit, sampling them, was as usual

accomplished with animation and lively talk. Dinner was a long
affair. Mr. Angeles was full of stories about his trip but would
interrupt his tales with: “I could not sleep of nights thinking of
the young ones. They should never be allowed to play in the
streets. And you older ones should not stay out too late at night.”

The stories petered out and dinner was over. Putting away the
dishes and wiping the dishes and wiping the table clean did not
at all seem tedious. Yet Nana Emilia and the children, although
they did not show it, were all on edge about the mats.

Finally, after a long time over his cigar, Mr. Angeles rose from
his seat at the head of the table and crossed the room to the
corner where his luggage had been piled. From the heap he
disengaged a ponderous bundle. Taking it under one arm, he
walked to the middle of the room where the light was brightest.
He dropped the bundle and, bending over and balancing himself

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on his toes, he strained at the cord that bound it. It was strong,
would not break, would not give way. He tried working at the
knots. His fingers were clumsy, they had begun shaking. He
raised his head, breathing heavily, to ask for the scissors.
Alfonso, his youngest boy, was to one side of him with the
scissors ready.

Nana Emilia and her eldest girl, who had long returned from the
kitchen, were watching the proceedings quietly.

One swift movement with the scissors, snip! And the bundle was
loose.

Turning to Nana Emilia, Mr. Angeles joyfully cried: “These are

the mats, Miling.”

Mr. Angeles picked up the topmost mat in the bundle.

“This, I believe, is yours, Miling.”

Nana Emilia stepped forward to the light, wiping her still moist
hands against the folds of her skirt, and with a strangely young
shyness received the mat. The children watched the spectacle
silently, and then broke into delighted, though a little conscious,
laughter. Nana Emilia unfolded the mat without a word. It was a

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beautiful mat: to her mind, even more beautiful than the one she
had received from her mother on her wedding day. There was a
name in the very centre of it: EMILIA. The letters were large,
done in green. Flowers-cadena de amor-were woven in and out
among the letters. The border was a long winding twig of cadena
– de – amor.

The children stood about the spread mat. The air was punctuated
by their breathless exclamations of delight.

“It is beautiful, Jaime; it is beautiful!” Nana Emilia’s voice

broke, and she could not say any more.

“And this, I know, is my own,” said Mr. Angeles of the next mat
in the bundle. The mat was rather simply decorated, the design
almost austere, and the only colours used were purple and gold.
The letters of the name Jaime were in purple.

“And this is for you, Marcelina.”

Marcelina was the oldest child. She had always thought her
name too long; it had been one of her worries with regard to the
mat. “How on earth are they going to weave all of the letters of
my name into my mat?” she had asked of almost everyone in the

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family. Now it delighted her to see her who name spelled out on
the mat, even if the letters were a little small, Besides, there was
a device above her name which pleased Marcelina very much. It
was in the form of a lyre, finely done in three colours. Marcelina
was a student of music and was quite a proficient pianist.

“And this is for you, Jose.”

Jose was the second child. He was a medical student already in

the third year at medical school. Over his name the symbol of
Aesculapius was woven into the mat.

“You are not to use this mat until the year of your internship,”
Mr. Angeles was saying.

“This is yours, Antonio.”

“And this is yours, Juan.”

“And this is yours, Jesus.”

Mat after mat was unfolded. On each of the children’s mats there
was somehow an appropriate an appropriate device.

At least all the children had been shown their individual mats.
The air was filled with their excited talk, and through it all Mr.
Angeles was saying over and over again in his deep voice:
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“You are not to use this mats until you go to the University.”

Then Nana Emilia noticed bewilderingly that there were some

more mats remaining to be unfolded.

“But Jaime,” Nana Emilia said, wonderingly, with evident

trepidation, “there are some more mats.”

Only Mr. Angeles seemed to have heard Nana Emilia’s words.

He suddenly stopped talking, as if he had been jerked away from
a pleasant phantasy. A puzzled reminiscent look came into his
eyes, superseding the deep and quiet delight that had been
briefly there, and when he spoke, his voice was different.

“Yes, Emilia,” said Mr. Angeles, “There are three more mats to
unfold. The others who aren’t here…”

Nana Emilia caught her breath; there was a swift constriction in

her throat; her face paled and she could not say anything.

The self-centred talk of the children also died. There was a

silence as Mr. Angeles picked up the first of the remaining mats
and began slowly unfolding it.

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The mat was almost as austere in design as Mr. Angeles’ own,
and it had a name. There was no symbol or device above the
name; only a blank space, emptiness.

The children knew the name. But somehow the name, the letters
spelling the name, seemed strange to them.

The Nana Emilia found her voice.

“You know, Jaime, you didn’t have to,” Nana Emilia said, and
her voice was hurt and sorely frightened.

Mr. Angeles jerked his back; there was something swift and
savage in the movement.

“Do you think I’d forgotten? Do you think I had forgotten them?
Do you think I could forget them?

“This is for you, Josefina!”

“And this, for you, Victoria!”

“And this, for you, Concepcion!”

Mr. Angeles called the names rather than uttered them.

“Don’t, Jaime, please don’t,” was all that Nana Emilia managed
to say.

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“Is it fair to forget them? Would it be just to disregard them?”
Mr. Angeles demanded rather than asked.

His voice had risen shrill, almost hysterical; it was also stern and
sad, and somehow vindictive. Mr. Angeles had spoken almost as
if he were a stranger.

Also, he had spoken as if from a deep, grudgingly-silent, long-

bewildered sorrow.

The children heard the words exploding in silence. They wanted

to turn away and not see the face of their father. But they could
neither move nor look away; his eyes held them, his voice held
them where they were. They seemed rooted to the spot.

Nana Emilia shivered once or twice, bowed her head, gripped

her clasped hands between her thighs.

There was a terrible hush. The remaining mats were unfolded in

silence. The names which were with infinite slowness revealed,
seemed strange and stranger still; the colors not bright but
deathly dull; the separate letters, spelling out the names of the
dead among them, did not seem to glow or shine with a festive
sheen as did the other living names.

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Aguila, Augusto Antonio A., Joyce L. Arriola and John Jack
Wigley. Philippine Literatures: Texts, Themes, Approaches.
Espana, Manila: Univesity of Santo Tomas Publishing House.
Print.

Reference: [Link]
[Link]

Activity 1.1

Directions: Copy and answer the following questions. Write your

answers in your notebook.

Questions:

1. Who are the main characters in the story?

2. What gift did Mr. Angeles bring home for his family?
3. Why did the father buy mats for each family member?
4. What made the mats special or different from ordinary mats?

45
 5. How did the family react when they saw their mats?
6. Which part of the story touched you the most? Explain your
answer.
7. Do you think the father’s act of giving mats was a good way to
remember his children? Why or why not?
8. What lesson can you learn from the story?
9. How does “The Mats” help us understand Filipino family values?
10. If you were one of the children, how would you feel about
receiving such a mat?

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