These two college professors are both intelligent yet down to earth, despite sharing different personalities.
It was our first few days in college, and everyone was eager to find out who our teachers would be. Engr. Erlinda Solito was scheduled for our 7:30 a.m. class, but she didn’t arrive, so we kept chatting until the bell rang for the next subject. That morning, Engr. Rogelio Caballo walked into our Algebra class, and a little later, Engr. Henry Sabate arrived to teach Engineering Drawing.
These two college professors, Engr. Rogelio Caballo and Engr. Henry Sabate—were both brilliant yet remarkably down‑to‑earth, each with a personality that left a lasting mark on us.
It was our first week in college, and everyone was buzzing with excitement about who our teachers would be. Engr. Erlinda Solito was supposed to arrive at 7:30 a.m., but she didn’t show up, so we spent the hour chatting like newly freed high schoolers. When the bell rang, our Algebra teacher, Engr. Caballo, finally walked in. Later that morning, Engr. Sabate entered our Engineering Drawing class.
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Engr. Caballo: Methodical and soft‑spoken, and by the book
Engr. Caballo spoke gently, always summarizing his points at the end of each session. He was methodical—everything had a system. Even our seating arrangement was by surname, which is how I ended up getting to know Eugene Cabale and Arthur Catubig.
Algebra was a five‑unit subject, which meant two hours every Monday and Wednesday and another hour on Fridays. It was intense, but his calm presence made it manageable.
Engr. Sabate: Stern, precise, and easily irritated by noise
If Engr. Caballo was calm, Engr. Sabate was the opposite. On our very first day, the class was noisy—everyone eager to make friends, share high school stories, and compare hometowns. He entered the room frowning, skipped the afternoon prayer, and delivered a warning that instantly silenced us:
“Next meeting, nobody can enter the classroom without his own T‑square, Staedtler or Rotring 0.5 or 0.3 pens. I hate noisy classes.
“Ayaw mo’g hawod‑hawod kay ako lang ang hawod diri.”
That line became legendary.
Enter Engr. Raymundo Moso: The Voice That Echoed Across the Corridor
The next day brought a new set of subjects—Theology, English, and Trigonometry. On the second floor of the Science Building, a man in his thirties walked in with neatly combed hair and slightly oversized trousers. He wrote on the board:
Engr. Raymundo Moso
ECE Math 2E – Plane and Spherical Trigonometry
He introduced himself, mentioning he graduated from MSU and taught at MATS before joining UIC. A few classmates exchanged amused glances. None of us knew that this diminutive but sharp instructor would become one of the most memorable characters of our college life.
His facial expressions were animated, his voice unmistakable—echoing two rooms away. He wasn’t a natural comedian, but the way he explained things often made us laugh. He never encouraged the laughter, but he didn’t suppress it either. When a small incident triggered a big chuckle, he simply continued teaching, almost proud that he had captured everyone’s attention.
He played no favorites. He called on anyone he suspected wasn’t ready—unless someone raised a hand to challenge him. Unlike Engr. Deypalubos, he never told stories. He was laser‑focused on the lesson.
Once, overwhelmed by the noise, he blurted out:
“Don’t talk while talk!”
We knew what he meant, but the phrasing became another classic Moso line.
He was also a devoted father. Sometimes he brought his little daughter to class and introduced her to us. But don’t let the soft side fool you—his exams were brutal. Nearly half the class failed Trigonometry that semester. The same students who laughed at him all term were the ones pleading with their orange class cards in hand. His response was simple:
“Your grades were recorded already and submitted to the Dean. Provide me enough proof that I need to approach the Dean and change your marks.”
Three Years Later: A Fixture in the Engineering Program
By our third year, Engr. Moso had become a respected figure. He was still the subject of playful teasing, but now he had everyone’s admiration. Those who mocked him were often dismissed as academically lost.
And just as his popularity peaked, a new character entered the scene.
The Arrival of Engr. Leo Usa
It was our fourth year, a time remembered for the tension between two class sections over pride and alleged discrimination. During enrollment, Engr. Moso, Engr. Abad, and Engr. Deypalubos—now the Engineering Dean—were at the Main Building lobby advising students. Instructor names had been removed from the subject lists to prevent certain groups from cherry‑picking teachers. Yes, we were that political.
Then came Engr. Leo Usa, who held degrees in both Mechanical and Electrical Engineering from Agro Industrial Foundation College. He was assigned to teach Engineering Economy.
We immediately checked if he used the same textbook as Ricardo Asin’s board reviewers. If he did, we could breeze through the subject and focus on tougher ones like Logic Circuits or Electronics 2. But he didn’t.
Instead, we had to pay attention—and that’s when we discovered his unique charm.
Engr. Usa: Humor, Posture, and Unintentional Comedy
If Engr. Moso had his booming voice, Engr. Usa had his posture. Whenever he turned to the board, his stance triggered suppressed laughter. When he heard someone giggle, he’d turn around:
“Oh, what’s the problem?”
Silence.
He’d ask again, half‑angry, half‑smiling, and somehow we always ended up liking him more.
But not everything was fun and games.
The Thermodynamics incident
Thermodynamics was chaos. The class was packed, the room was hot, and the ceiling fan barely worked. Before class, we’d gather in the old Faculty Room—our assigned classroom—copying assignments or listening to Gary Jaravata’s impersonations.
As Engr. Usa discussed entropy and enthalpy, Jerry Tuston kept grinning uncontrollably. His face turned red as he whispered “Ako si takuri,” referring to the kettle‑like posture of the instructor.
The room erupted.
Annoyed, Engr. Usa called Jerry to the front. Jerry walked with exaggerated sarcasm. Then something happened none of us expected—Engr. Usa grabbed him by the collar and ordered him out.
“Maong init pa kaayo, saba pa gyud kaayo, i‑reporting na lang nato ni!”
The line became another classic, immortalized by Gary’s reenactments.
Despite his temper, Engr. Usa had a soft heart. Unlike Engr. Rosales, who never budged, Engr. Usa could be persuaded—especially if you approached him looking like you were about to cry.
Fast forward again: from student to colleague
Three years later, I was part of the UIC faculty. Anecito Dumdumaya and Rowena Constantino handled Engineering subjects, while I taught Computer Science with Michael Cagape and Edison Escala. Working technical support on the main campus, I got to know Engr. Usa’s sister, who worked at the Nutrition & Dietetics Dean’s Office.
That’s when I learned more about him—his responsibilities at home, his role as a caring uncle, and his well‑kept house in Catalunan Grande with a landscaped garden that didn’t match his rugged classroom persona.
Where They Are Now
When I last visited UIC, students were waiting for their Circuits teacher to check their projects, but no faculty member was in sight. It was April. The next time I returned was during Christmas break.
I imagine Engr. Moso still walking around with neatly combed hair and oversized trousers.
And Engr. Leo? He’s probably riding his motorcycle past the Annex campus, slowing down as if gesturing to his buddy:
“Angkas bai, ihatod ta ka.“