this story originally appeared in the philippine daily inquirer on December 6, 2001.
Teaching sucks.
Yes, you read it right. I am, indeed, referring to that occupation where its practitioners are crazy enough to stand alone, almost defenseless, in front of a group of kids and take them head on. And all they have are a few sheets of manila paper, a roll of masking tape, a pentel pen and their ultimate security blanket, a lesson plan notebook.
This exercise doesn’t last for only a day or a week. It’s an ordeal that lasts for an entire school year. And some people have even been misled to actually stay in this line of work for their entire life. Can you believe that?
Worse is that while it is hailed as the noblest profession, the financial compensation hardly hints of its lofty status. And even that is just the tip of the iceberg.
Why do I have such bad feelings toward the profession? Allow me to explain.
When you are, unfortunately, drawn into the teaching profession, one of the things that immediately hits you is that it is a pressure-filled occupation. Imagine this: Every word you say, every conclusion you reach, every theory you illustrate, goes directly into the mind of each youngster in your care. Talk about permanently altering someone’s life! Give a wrong answer, slip in a disrespectful remark, and that kid’s life is misdirected forever! It’s not as if 15 years down the road you can call back the student and tell him, “Oh, your grade school teacher taught you something wrong. Can I correct the error?” What do you think these kids are, software programs?
What makes the process even more crucial is a curious fact that only teachers can understand: Children will not only remember some mathematical property or the natural products of a Philippine region; they remember, more importantly, the value of what you taught them. Be it a deeper sense of nationalism, a disciplined manner of thinking, or simply a love for knowledge, what sticks to their minds is what lies beyond the topics discussed, the life-lessons not found in textbook. In choosing to become a teacher, you give yourself the power to change someone’s life-for the better.
What else can beat that? Sure, Bill Gates has entered the lives of every PC user with his company’s programs, but that cannot compare with what an educator is capable of doing. I mean, you are there at the precise moment of a student’s life when you can mold him into being the best he can ever be! In every encounter you have with your students, you lay the foundation for the countless values that we have often find lacking in ourselves: self-confidence, self-respect, generosity, and even faith in ourselves and in our God. It is these values that ultimately shape our lives. As the saying goes, “A teacher affects eternity; you never know where his influence ends.”
No one can say that being a teacher is easy. Not only do you have to prepare three, four or maybe five lesson plans for the next day, you also have to worry about other things. You have that student who is so very much affected by what is happening at home, he couldn’t care less if he comes to school unprepared for a quiz. There is that school committee you head, and the report is due before the end of the week. Not to mention the mountain of papers you have to check, or the endless grades you have to encode. How can you deal with all of this?
The only thing that keeps you afloat is the knowledge that the people you work with understand what you go through each day. They empathize with you and they can offer you that little bit of cheer you need so badly at the end of the day. Whether your seventh class of the day has just ended, or you’ve spoken to your last parent during the parent-teacher conference, it feels so good to bump into a fellow teacher who, with genuine concern, asks you, “Kamusta ka na? Okay ka lang ba?” The question knocks you over with its simplicity and sincerity. Here is someone who, probably had an equally rough day, asking you how you are doing. How many professionals will ask you a similar question out of real, heartfelt concern (that is, if they actually stop what they are doing and really look at you)? For one brief moment, they set aside their own worries and make you feel that what you have been through is truly important. In the process, they make you feel important, both as an educator and as a person.
Their secret? Here is my best guess. When you are a teacher, you’re not dealing with market shares, quotas, or profit-and-loss statements. All these are up there in your head. As a teacher, you grow sensitive to what is happening inside your students, going beyond the overt behavior you catch in the classroom. You try your best to look at what is in their hearts, what are their emotions, what are their feelings.
It is no surprise, therefore, that you often find yourself missing the company of these people once you decide to move away from them. For once in your life, you were in the company of persons who actually cared about what you were going through, and made sure that you knew that.
Then there are the students, those hyperactive, irritating little people who can’t wait to grow up, who but still end up acting like they have been in kindergarten the past five or six years. And don’t you start thinking that the older your students get (biologically speaking), the easier they are to handle. Sure, the younger ones look up to you as if you were Superman or a fairy princess, but have you tried keeping them absolutely quiet and still in their seats even for just a minute? Then as adolescence kicks in, you get a lot of wise guys who think their day is not complete unless they’ve placed their teachers in awkward or embarrassing situations. In such cases, you can either storm out of the room at least three times a month, or lose your voice after handling two or three subjects. With the kind of treatment you get, there can be little argument that your students do not make your job easier.
But I have to stop right there. Because for every forgettable moment you encounter, there can be 10, even 20, different memories that you are more than willing to keep. Among these are the lunchtime kwentuhan with your students done over cheese sticks and iced tea and the hours spent on the road with them during field trips. You remember the jokes (corny though they may be) shared while attending their class nights, and those unexpected greetings of “Hi, Sir!” or “Hi, Ma’am!” as you are walking in a mall. All these things put together, and a million other experiences, make me miss every one of my students.
Every school year, as I bid goodbye to another batch of students, I whisper a little prayer for them. During that brief spiritual moment, I ask the Greatest Teacher to watch over these young men and keep them safe as they take their next steps through high school, college and beyond. It is not that I have second thoughts. I know that I have done my part, and now it is time for me to see the fruits of my labor. I have opened some doors for them, and now they have to be able to walk through them.
As I remember the last lesson plan that passed through my hands, I can say one thing: If you want to be blessed the same way I was, there is only one simple way to do it: Be a teacher.