21st Century from the

Philippines & the World

Quarter 2 – Lesson 1
What I Know
Directions: Choose the letter of the correct answer.
Write the chosen letter on a separate sheet of paper.

1. Which element refers to the time and location where the

story happens?
a. Plot c. Conflict
b. Setting d. Characterization

2. The phrase, “Don’t judge the book by its cover,” is an

example of
a. Mood c. Theme
b. Setting d. Conflict
What I Know
Directions: Choose the letter of the correct answer.
Write the chosen letter on a separate sheet of paper.

3. What do you call the most important character in a story?

a. antagonize c. antagonist
b. protagonist d. instigator

2. Which plot structure creates tone, presents characters and

other important details to introduce the story?
a. Setting c. Exposition
b. Theme d. Climax
What I Know
Directions: Choose the letter of the correct answer.
Write the chosen letter on a separate sheet of paper.

5. Which element of a short story is known as the vantage point

used to narrate the story?
a. Setting c. Exposition
b. Theme d. Point of View

6. What do you call the character who contends with the main
character in a short story?
a. investigator c. antagonist
b. protagonist d. instigator
What I Know
Directions: Choose the letter of the correct answer.
Write the chosen letter on a separate sheet of paper.

7. Which element of short story shows the author’s attitude or

feelings?
a. Plot c. Exposition
b. Theme d. Tone

8. What do you call the events that happen in a short story?

a. Setting c. Plot
b. Theme d. Conflict
 SINIGANG
Marie Aubrey J. Villaceran
“SO, what happened?”

She had finally decided to ask the question. I had been wondering
how long my Tita Loleng could contain her curiosity.

I continued to pick out tomatoes for the sinigang we were to have

for dinner. I wasn’t usually the one who assisted my aunt with the
cooking. She preferred my younger sister, Meg, for I knew far less
in this area—not having the aptitude, or the interest, I guess—for
remembering recipes. That didn’t matter today, though. This time,
Tita Loleng wanted more than just an extra pair of hands in the
kitchen.

“Nothing much,” I answered offhandedly. “We did what people

usually do during funerals.” I reminded myself to tread carefully
with her. Though I did not really feel like talking, I could not tell her
off for she took offense rather easily.
I put the tomatoes in the small palanggana, careful not to bruise their
delicate skin, and carried them to the sink.

“Did you meet…her?” Tita Loleng asked.

There came to me a memory of sitting in one of the smaller narra

sofas in the living room in Bulacan. I faced a smooth white coffin
whose corners bore gold-plated figures of cherubs framed by
elaborate swirls resembling thick, curling vines. Two golden
candelabras, each supporting three rows of high-wattage electric
candles, flanked the coffin and seared the white kalachuchi in the
funeral wreaths, causing the flowers to release more of their heady
scent before they wilted prematurely. Through an open doorway, I
could see into the next room where a few unfamiliar faces held
murmured conversations above their coffee cups.

“Are you Liza?” A woman beside me suddenly asked.

I was surprised, for I had not heard anyone approaching. Most of
the mourners preferred to stay out on the veranda for fear that the
heat from the lights might also cause them to wither.

I looked up slowly: long, slim feet with mauve-painted toenails that

peeked through the opening of a pair of scruffy-looking slippers;
smooth legs unmarred by swollen veins or scars—so unlike the
spider-veined legs of my mom—encased in a black, pencil-cut skirt;
a white blouse with its sleeves too long for the wearer, causing the
extra fabric to bunch around the cuffs; a slim neck whose skin
sagged just a little bit; and a pale face that seemed like it had not
experienced sleep in days. The woman looked to me like she was in
her forties—the same age as my mother.

.
“Yes,” I had answered that woman—the same answer I now gave
to Tita Loleng.

I gently spilled out all the tomatoes into the sink and turned on the
tap. The water, like agua bendita, cleansed each tomato of the
grime from its origins.

“What did she tell you?” Tita Loleng asked.

“Nothing much. She told me who she was.”

“What did she look like?”

“She’s pretty, I guess.”

She was. She looked like she had Indian blood with her sharp nose
and deep-set eyes thickly bordered by long lashes. Just like Mom,
she still maintained a slim figure though she already had children.
The woman, upon seeing my curious stare, had explained, “I am
Sylvia.”

All my muscles tensed upon hearing her name. It took all my self-
control to outwardly remain calm and simply raise an eyebrow.

My reaction caused a range of emotion to cross the woman’s face

before it finally crumbled and gave way to tears. Suddenly, she
grabbed my hand from where it had been resting on the arm of the
sofa. Her own hands were damp and sticky with sweat. She knelt in
front of me—a sinner confessing before a priest so he could wash
away the dirt from her past.
But I was not a priest. I looked down at her and my face remained
impassive.

When her weeping had subsided, she raised her head and looked at me.
“Everyone makes mistakes, Liza.” Her eyes begged for understanding.

It was a line straight out of a Filipino soap opera. I had a feeling that the
whole situation was a scene from a very bad melodrama I was watching. I
looked around to see if anyone had witnessed the spectacle unfolding in
this living room, but it was as if an invisible director had banned all but
the actors from the set. Except for us, not a soul could be seen.

I wanted Sylvia to free my hand so I nodded and pretended to understand.

Apparently convinced, she let go and, to my shock, suddenly hugged me
tight. My nose wrinkled as the pungent mix of heavy perfume and sweat
assailed me. I wanted to scream at her to let go but I did not move away.

“Hmm, I think they’re washed enough na.” Tita Loleng said.

Turning off the tap, I placed the tomatoes inside the basin once more. Then,
as an afterthought, I told my Tita, “I don’t think she is as pretty as Mom,
though.”

Tita Loleng nodded understandingly. She gestured for me to place the basin
on the table where she already had the knives and chopping board ready.

“Where was your Dad when she was talking to you?”

“Oh, he was sleeping in one of the bedrooms. Mom did not want to wake
him up because they told her he had not slept for two nights straight.”

Tita Loleng snorted. “Haay, your mother talaga,” she said, shaking her
head.

I had to smile at that before continuing. “When he saw me, Sylvia had
already been called away to entertain some of the visitors.”
“Was he surprised to see you?” Tita knew that I had not wanted to
go to the funeral. Actually, she was one of the few people who
respected, and understood, my decision.

“No.” I sliced each of the tomatoes in quarters. The blade of the

knife clacked fiercely against the hard wood of the chopping
board. “He requested Mom to make me go there.” We both knew
that I could never have refused my mother once she insisted that I
attend. I had even gone out and gotten drunk with some friends
the night before we were to leave just so I could have an excuse
not to go, but my mom was inflexible. She had ordered my two
sisters to wake me up.

Tita Loleng gave me a sympathetic look. “No choice then, huh?”

She was forever baffled at the way my mother could be such a
martyr when it came to my father and such a tyrant to her
children.
Clack! Clack! The knife hacked violently against the board.

“Nope.”

When my Dad had come out of the room, I remembered sensing it

immediately—the same way an animal instinctively perceives when
it is in danger. I had been looking at the face of my dead half-
brother, searching for any resemblance between us. Chemotherapy
had sunk his cheeks and had made his hair fall out, but even in this
condition, I could see how handsome he must have been before his
treatment. His framed photograph atop the glass covering of the
coffin confirmed this. Lem took after my father so much that Dad
could never even hope to deny that he was his son. I, on the other
hand, had taken after my mother.
I knew my father was staring at me but I refused look at him. He
approached and stood next to me. I remained silent.

“I am glad you came,” he said.

I gave him a non-committal nod, not even glancing his way.

Tita Loleng interrupted my thoughts with another one of her

questions. “Did you cry?”

I shook my head vehemently as I answered, “No.”

I took the sliced tomatoes, surprised to find not even a splinter of

wood with them, as well as the onions Tita Loleng had chopped
and put them in a pot. “What next?” I asked her.

“The salt.” Then she went and added a heaping tablespoonful of

salt to the pot.
“Is that all?”

“Uh-huh. Your Mom and I prefer it a bit saltier, but your Dad likes
it this way.” Then she gestured towards the pot, closing and
opening her fist like a baby flexing its fingers.

I started crushing the onions, tomatoes, and salt together with my

hand.

“He was an acolyte in church,” my father had said then, finally

splintering the silence I had adamantly maintained. “Father Mario
said that we shouldn’t feel sad because Lem is assured of going to
a better place because he was such a good child.” Good, I thought,
unlike me whom he always called “Sinverguenza”, the shameless
daughter.

I finally turned to him. There was only one question I needed to

ask. “Why?”
He met my gaze. I waited but he would not—could not— answer
me. He looked away.

My mask of indifference slipped. It felt like a giant hand was

rubbing salt into me, squeezing and mashing, unsatisfied until all
of me had been crushed.

“Stop it na, Liza!” Tita Loleng exclaimed. “Anymore of that

mashing and you will be putting bits of your own flesh and bone
in there,” my aunt warned. She went to the refrigerator and took
out plastic bags containing vegetables. She placed them in the
sink. “All of these will be needed for the sinigang,” she said.
“Prepare them while you’re softening the meat.” Then she took
off her apron, “You go and finish off here. I will just go to my
room and stretch my back out a bit.” With a tender pat on my
head, she walked out of the kitchen.
I breathed a sigh of relief. The questions had stopped, for now.
I poured the hugas bigas into the mass of crushed onions and
tomatoes and added the chunks of beef into the concoction before
covering the pot and placing it on the stove. I turned on the flame.
The sinigang needed to simmer for close to an hour to tenderize
the meat.

In the meantime, I started preparing all the other ingredients that

will be added to the pot later on. Taking all the plastic bags, I
unloaded their contents into the sink then washed and drained each
vegetable thoroughly before putting them beside my chopping
board.
I reached for the bunch of kangkong and began breaking off
choice sections to be included in the stew. When I was a child,
before Tita Loleng had chosen to stay with us, my mom used to do
the cooking and she would have Meg and I sit beside her while she
readied the meals. I remembered that whenever it came to any dish
involving kangkong, I would always insist on preparing it because
I loved the crisp popping sound the vegetable made whenever I
broke off a stem. It was on one such occasion, I was in second
year high school by then but still insistent on kangkong
preparation, when Mom had divulged the truth about the boy who
kept calling Dad on the phone everyday at home. Meg had also
been there, breaking off string beans into two-inch sections.
Neither of us had reacted much then, but between us, I knew I was
more affected by what Mom had said because right until then, I
had always been Daddy’s girl.
When the kangkong was done, I threw away the tough, unwanted
parts and reached for the labanos. I used a peeler to strip away
the skin—revealing the white, slightly grainy flesh—and then
sliced each root diagonally. Next came the sigarilyas, and finally,
the string beans. Once, I asked Tita Loleng how she knew what
type of vegetable to put into sinigang and she said, “Well, one
never really knows which will taste good until one has tried it. I
mean, some people cook sinigang with guavas, some with
kamias. It is a dish whose recipe would depend mostly on the
taste of those who will do the eating.”
I got a fork and went to the stove where the meat was simmering. I
prodded the chunks to test whether they were tender enough—and
they were. After pouring in some more of the rice washing, I
cleared the table and waited for the stew to boil. A few minutes
later, the sound of rapidly popping bubbles declared that it was
now time to add the powdered tamarind mix. I poured in the whole
packet and stirred. Then I took the vegetables and added them, a
fistful at a time, to the pot. As I did so, I remembered the flower
petals each of my two sisters and I had thrown, fistful by fistful,
into the freshly dug grave as Lem’s casket was being lowered into
it. My dad was crying beside me and I recalled thinking, would he
be the same if I was the one who had died? I glanced up at him
and was surprised to find that he was looking at me. His hand,
heavy with sadness, fell on my shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” he had told me.
I let the stew boil for a few more minutes before turning off the
fire.

The sinigang would be served later during dinner. I pictured myself

seated in my usual place beside my father who is at the head of the
table. He would tell Mom about his day and then he would ask
each of us about our own. I would answer, not in the animated way
I would have done when I was still young and his pet, but politely
and without any rancor.

Then, he would compliment me on the way I had cooked his

favorite dish and I would give him a smile that would never quite
show, not even in my eyes. Ω
Directions: Study the following questions carefully and write
your answers on a separate sheet of paper.

1. Where did the story happen

2. Who were the characters in the story?
3. What do you think led to the emotional
separation of Liza from her father.
4. What was the story about?
5. Who narrated the story?
 Basic Elements of A
Short Story
Character
Setting
Plot
Conflict
Theme
Point of View
 Characters
• The person,
animals, and
things
participating
in a story
 Characters
• Protagonist and antagonist are used to
describe characters.
• The protagonist is the main character of the
story, the one with whom the reader identifies.
This person is not necessary “good”.
• The antagonist is the force in opposition of the
protagonist; this person may not be “bad” or
“evil”, but he/she opposes the protagonist in a
significant way
 Setting

• Setting is the “where and when”

of a story. It is the time and place
during which the story takes place.
 Setting
Setting
Time and place are where the action occurs

Details that describe:

 Furniture
 Scenery
 Customs
 Transportation
 Clothing
 Dialects
 Weather
 Time of day
 Time of year
 Plot
• Plot is the organized
pattern or sequence of
events that make up a story.

• Plot is the literary element

that describes the structure
of a story. It shows
arrangement of events and
actions within a story.
 Parts of a Plot
 Exposition - introduction; characters, setting and
conflict (problem) are introduced
 Rising Action- events that occur as result of
central conflict
 Climax- highest point of interest or suspense of a
story
 Falling Action - tension eases; events show the
results of how the main character begins to resolve
the conflict
 Resolution- loose ends are tied up; the conflict is
solved
 Plot Diagram
3

4
2
1
5
 1. Exposition
• This usually occurs at the beginning of a short story.
Here the characters are introduced. We also learn
about the setting of the story. Most importantly, we
are introduced to the main conflict (main problem).
 2. Rising Action
• This part of the story begins to develop the conflict(s). A
building of interest or suspense occurs and leads to the
climax. Complications arise
 3. Climax
• This is the turning point of the story. Usually the main
character comes face to face with a conflict. The main
character will change in some way. This is the most
intense moment.
 4. Falling Action
• Action that follows
the climax and
ultimately leads to
the resolution
 5. Resolution
• The conclusion; all loose
ends are tied up.
• Either the character defeats
the problem, learns to live
with the problem, or the
problem defeats the
character.
 Putting It All Together
1. Exposition Beginning of
Story
2. Rising Action

Middle of Story
3. Climax

4. Falling Action
End of Story
5. Resolution
 Diagram of Plot
Climax

Ac nt/

Fal on
n

Act
ing me
ti o

ling
Ris velop

i
De

Introduction
/ Exposition Resolution
Setting, characters,
and conflict are
introduced
 Special Techniques used in a Story
 Suspense- excitement, tension, curiosity
 Foreshadowing- hint or clue about what will
happen in story
 Flashback- interrupts the normal sequence of
events to tell about something that happened in the
past
 Symbolism – use of specific objects or images to
represent ideas
 Personification – when you make a thing,
idea or animal do something only humans do
 Surprise Ending - conclusion that reader
does not expect
Conflict
Conflict is the dramatic struggle
between two forces in a story. Without
conflict, there is no plot.
 Conflict
Conflict is a problem that must be solved; an
issue between the protagonist and antagonist
forces. It forms the basis of the plot.
 Types of Conflict
Man versus man

Man versus nature

Man versus himself

Man versus society QuickTime™ and a

TIFF (Uncompressed) decompressor
are needed to see this picture.
 Theme
The theme is the central, general
message, the main idea, the controlling
topic about life or people the author wants
to get across through a literary work
To discover the theme of a story, think big.
What big message is the author trying to
say about the world in which we live?
What is this story telling me about how life
works, or how people behave?
 The Theme is also
• the practical lesson ( moral) that we learn
from a story after we read it. The lesson that
teaches us what to do or how to behave after
you have learned something from a story or
something that has happened to you.
Example: The lesson or teaching of the story
is be careful when you’re offered something
for nothing.
 Point of View
• First Person Point of View- a
character from the story is telling the
story; uses the pronouns “I” and “me”
• Third Person Point of View- an
outside narrator is telling the story;
uses the pronouns “he”, “she”, “they”
Activity 1. Directions: Identify the six (6)
elements from the short story Sinigang.

Setting: ______________________________
Characters: ___________________________
Plot: _________________________________
Conflict: _____________________________
Theme: ______________________________
Point of View: _________________________
Activity 2. Directions: Identify the plot structure of the
story “Sinigang”. Write A for exposition; B for rising
action; C for climax; D for falling action; and E for
resolution.

1. “Did you meet… her?” Tita Loleng asked.

2. The woman looked to me lie she was in her forties –
the same age as my mother.
3. The woman, upon seeing my curious stare, had
explained, “I am Sylvia”.
4. I finally turned to him. There was only one question
I needed to ask. “Why?”
5. I wanted to scream at her to let go but I did not
move away.
Activity 2. Directions: Identify the plot structure of the
story “Sinigang”. Write A for exposition; B for rising
action; C for climax; D for falling action; and E for
resolution.

6. All my muscles tensed upon hearing her name. it

took all my self-control to outwardly remain calm
and simply raise an eyebrow.
7. When my dad had come out of the room, I
remembered sensing it immediately- the same way
an animal instinctively perceives when it is in
danger.
8. “I’m sorry.” he had told me.
Activity 2. Directions: Identify the plot structure of the
story “Sinigang”. Write A for exposition; B for rising
action; C for climax; D for falling action; and E for
resolution.

9. When her weeping had subsided, she raised her

head and looked at me. “Everyone makes mistakes,
Liza.” her eyes begged for understanding.
10. I continued to pick out tomatoes for the sinigang
we were to have for dinner. I wasn’t usually the one
who assisted my aunt with the cooking.
 What I Have Learned
Directions: Reflect on the short story, “Sinigang”, by
Maria Aubrey J. Villaceran and answer the questions
below.

1. What significant lesson have you learned from the

story? How will you apply it in your own life?
2. React on this: It is ordinary in our Filipino culture
for husbands to commit adultery and look for
another woman who can satisfy their desires
simply because they are men and not saints.
Thank you!
References
DepEd Module Quarter 3 Module 1
Pictures taken from www.google.com