𝗙𝗘𝗔𝗧𝗨𝗥𝗘: "Quick 𝘙𝘢𝘪𝘯lapse: When Stormy School Days Became Core Memories" by Yannah Descalso

Layout by: John Maclen R. Dolor
Published by: Jeralaine G. Larios
Date published: June 21, 2025
Time published: 6:55 AM


Rainy days don’t start with thunder. The real alarm is, “𝘊𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯, 𝘔𝘢𝘺𝘰𝘳?” But what follows is more than just raindrops. It’s a rush of moments. Voices grow louder than the downpour, sparked by a sudden blackout or ghost stories whispered in the dark. The smell of coffee and noodles fills the room. There’s unexpected bonding under umbrellas, or none at all, once the suspension is finally announced.

These moments, however ordinary they may seem, turn into memories no amount of rain can wash away. Somehow, they become stories you’ll tell again and again.


𝗕𝗥𝗔𝗜𝗡𝗦𝗧𝗢𝗥𝗠𝗜𝗡𝗚
While most students hoped for a No Classes announcement, whispering wishes into the clouds, not everyone felt the same way. After all, some students are built for the rain. They’re the ones who don’t wait for perfect weather. Instead, they bring their own storm—the kind of restless energy that rattles their thoughts when ideas refuse to stay still. For them, it’s better to drown in a flood of possibilities than drift through the silence of an empty day.

Rain doesn’t always make people feel lazy. For some, it helps them think better. There’s something about the steady patter of raindrops on the roofs that makes it easier to focus. As the noise outside softens, a kind of hush settles in—and in that stillness, ideas begin to flash.

Eventually, though, the storm builds. That’s when everything gets loud, messy, and unforgettable. You still remember, don’t you? That one stormy day that left a mark, the one that feels like it poured only yesterday. So now, let’s relive the storm that refuses to be forgotten.


𝗥𝗔𝗜𝗡𝗕𝗢𝗢!
As the clouds gather, people outside begin to walk faster. The air takes on the scent of wet soil. The sky dims to the shade of old concrete. Above, dark clouds roll in like waves. Then—sudden and sharp—a flash of lightning cuts across the sky, enough to shake their hearts.

According to PAGASA, the stretch of stormy months usually begins in May and lasts until November or December. But for students, it often feels more like being trapped inside a haunted house—where the lights flicker, the air feels heavy, and you never really know what’s coming next.

Moments later, the lights vanish. “𝘉𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘵!” someone yells, almost in sync with the thunder’s roar, as if the sky had been listening. A few students scream. Some burst into laughter. Others don’t even flinch like they’ve seen this many times before.

In an instant, the mood shifts. Eyes dart around the room. Phones light up one by one, casting eerie glows across the walls and turning faces into silhouettes. It feels like ghost stories told too early in the afternoon. Some students begin to whisper ghost tales, followed by the occasional shriek whenever lightning strikes too close.

Gradually, as the thrill outside simmers down, attention begins to turn inward—to the quiet routines and small comforts that rainy school days always seem to bring.


𝗜 𝗥𝗘𝗠𝗘𝗠𝗕𝗘𝗥 𝗜𝗧 𝗔𝗟𝗟 𝗧𝗢𝗢 𝗪𝗘𝗧
The sound of it hitting the roof is louder than any group activity. Some just sit back, quietly savoring the cold and calm as it streams down the classroom windows. The air feels heavy with silence, broken only by the soft hum of 𝘐𝘵’𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘔𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘭𝘢, 𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪 𝘬𝘢 𝘣𝘢 𝘯𝘪𝘭𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘨? in their mind.

Meanwhile, a few students huddle closer—not to study, but just to sit, wait, and breathe. Sleeves are tugged, eyes wander, and thoughts stay quiet. Then someone breaks the silence: "𝘈𝘮𝘰𝘺 𝘬𝘢𝘱𝘦 𝘢𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘭𝘦𝘴! 𝘒𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘰 ’𝘺𝘰𝘯?" Laughter follows. The smell fills the room—warm, familiar, like comfort on a gray day. It’s simple, but it feels like enough.

Moments later, phones light up, and whispers turn into cheers. "𝘎𝘶𝘺𝘴, 𝘴𝘶𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥!" someone announces. Rain might be flooding the streets, but spirits suddenly rise. For students, a stormy day suspension is never boring—it’s a small escape from everything that piles up.

The quiet turns into a run as students stand up from their seats. "𝘛𝘢𝘬𝘣𝘰!" someone yells, as if they could dodge the raindrops. But no one really minds getting soaked. After all, memories are made of days like this and it's the kind of rain that stays with you.


𝗪𝗘𝗟𝗟-𝗦𝗨𝗦𝗣𝗘𝗡𝗗𝗘𝗗
There’s something about stormy school days that stays with us long after the rain has stopped. Maybe it’s the way time slows down when the sky turns gray, or how laughter feels louder when shared in the middle of a brownout. Maybe it’s the quiet comfort of sitting beside people who don’t need words to understand the mood.

Those days never ask to be remembered, but somehow, they are—not because they were perfect, but because they felt real. They held small pauses in between the pressure—a break we didn’t know we needed until it arrived with the rain.

So when the next storm comes, don’t just see it as a reason to suspend class. Bring an umbrella, a hat, boots, a raincoat, or a jacket. Stay dry, stay safe—but most of all, stay ready to turn a stormy school day into a memory worth remembering.

Because one day, you’ll hear the rain again, and it won’t just be weather. It’ll be a memory. Or you’ll suddenly wish you could go back—not to escape the storm, but to feel that kind of day one more time.


References:

[1] Arceo. A (2025, June 2) PAGASA declares start of 2025 rainy season. Rappler.

https://www.rappler.com/philippines/weather/pagasa-rainy-season-2025/

[2] Hegde P. (2020, July 13) Memories of Rainy Days From My Childhood. Medium.

https://medium.com/illumination/what-ilearned-from-rainy-days-d1b89793d7e9