My mother, Manuela Tinio, died when I was but two years of age, and I was left to the care of my beloved grandfather, Esteban Tinio, uncle Quintin Tinio and my aunts Paula and Felipa Tinio. I had two brothers and three sisters, but all of them died except one of my brothers, Valentin, who is now attending the Philippine Medical School. My uncle Valentin was one of the active leaders of the revolutionary movement in Nueva Ecija. He bore a deadly hatred against the Spaniards. On several occasions secret meetings were held in our house shortly before the uprising of the people. When the revolution broke out unexpectedly in 1896 he was forced to flee to the mountain, where he was captured afterwards, and was finally shot. My grandfather died in 1903 in his eighty-ninth year, and thus I was left to the care of my father, Francisco Guanio, and my two aunts, Paula and Felipa, who are still unmarried. Altho my aunts are over sixty years of age, yet they are still strong, active and diligent women. They have never wasted their time in idleness, and are always at work from morning till night. To them who are more than mothers to me I owe my present education.
I was born in the most extraordinary period of Philippine history. I lived to see the days when our fathers were struggling hard against Spain. During my boyhood I saw men imprisoned, exiled and executed for no offense whatever. I have heard the voice of the oppressed people crying for justice. I have seen men, rich and poor, wise and ignorant, fighting for the common cause of the Filipino people. I witnessed one of the fierce attacks of our patriots upon the Spanish regiment at Gapan. When I was twelve years old many towns were entirely depopulated; churches, and schoolhouses converted into hospitals; men and women impelled by fear to flee from their homes with their children. I once enjoyed seeing the humiliating race-distinction effaced. Early one morning I was awakened from my sleep by the loud booming of cannon and by the shouting of the once happy and satisfied people, inaugurating the short-lived Philippine republic. These past events changed my gentle nature entirely. It has been my ambition ever since to make the most of myself for my country's sake.
I attended the public school at Gapan in 1894. Here I learned the alphabet and catechism. At that time Spanish was taught in nearly all the schools of the Islands. The sudden outbreak of the revolution of 1896 brought about the closing of the schools for a short time. And altho they were soon reopened, yet there was not the same enthusiasm for learning among the great mass of students as had been previously shown. They attended schools simply because they were compelled to do so by the government (for education was compulsory under the Spanish administration in these islands). In 1898 I attended school very irregularly on account of the revolution. Then in the beginning of the year 1899 schools were closed on account of the troubles which the Filipinos had had with the Americans, and consequently I had to stay at home for two years. In October, 1901, I entered the Gapan Intermediate School, which was then under the supervision of an American teacher. On January 1, 1904, I left the school of Gapan and attended the S. Isidro High School. In June, 1905, I was transferred to the Philippine Normal School, where I have stayed since then.
My uncle Quintin's plan was to make me a lawyer, but his unexpected death prevented his desire. My father and my two aunts, Paula and Felipa, allowed me to pursue any course I liked. It is their wish to give me a good and thorough education.
My own plan is different from that of my uncle Quintin. I desire to complete the high school course first, then the college course, and finish with the engineering course.
—Domingo T. Guanio.
What I Remember of the Coming of the Americans
In the afternoon of November 15, 1900, while I was at a small private school conducted by an educated woman, the wife of the colonel in Ponciano's army, one of my classmates called my attention to the running of men and women up and down the street.
"What is the matter? Why are those people running?" asked our teacher of her husband, who was then entering the gate.
"They say there is a casco of rice in Laguna de Bay. I do not know what kind of casco it is; it has a flag. Send all the children home," said the colonel.