Graduation 2.0
I never really intended to get into teaching. I saw Xavier’s booth back at the Ateneo career fair, but passed it by recalling those school boy fantasies of teaching English or Filipino, of coming back to the old theater club. I’ve moved on, I said.
Or so I thought.
It was purely a work of circumstance that I got roped into teaching. Circumstance here being EJ Legaspi, my mentor. I can still remember receiving his call in the middle of my birthday party-ish. He pitched coming back to co-moderate Stage FX, which turned into a pitch to take on teaching full time. Being dissatisfied with the job hunt, I thought, why not?
And now three years have gone by. A little too fast, I might say.
Back in high school, I had this image of the kind of teacher I wanted to be. It was an amalgamation of the attributes of some of my favorite teachers. Mr. Yu’s kindness, Ms. Lopez’s badassery, Ms. Cuevas’s homeyness, Mr. Legaspi’s creativity. I’d like to imagine I fit the bill.
The one thing I knew I wanted to do, though, was to share with my students that kind of relationship I had with my teachers. We Xaverians are quite malambing, makulit with our teachers (something that I later learned is uncommon in other schools). I wanted my students to trust me, to maybe look up to me in a way.
Yeah, it’s narcissistic… I know. But in a way, it’s not. It’s returning the love full circle. In my teachers, I had confidants. People I’d share my secrets with, my dreams, my frustrations. And I felt that if I could be just that for someone else, then I know I’m doing something right.
There was this one class where I got into an argument with one of my students. This was back when I was teaching Filipino. He was good but he was holding himself back… and also, he was being a little bitch that day. (I can say that now.) That fight somehow turned into a motivational sermon I never would have imagined making. In fact, dear reader, I shut down the house with that speech. The kid sat down with a look of both acceptance and empowerment. I don’t know if he remembers this, but I do.
It was then that I realized the power of what you can do in the classroom… the change you can effect.
A friend once asked me if I felt like I was touching lives, as the adage goes. This was just a few months into the job, so I was taken aback. To be honest, on a daily basis, no. There are days the self-doubts come in and you think to yourself, “Why am I even here? These brats don’t even give two shits about me or my class.” But there are days just like those that, more than anything, you feel like you’re doing something truly worth the hustle.
So why am I leaving, you ask?
It’s simply a matter of dreams. I think I’ve learned as much as I could inside those classrooms, and it’s time to move on. I just feel like I’m giving so much of myself up when I need to save some of it for myself. While that’s not a bad thing — these are some truly bright, talented kids — I’d like to be selfish while I still have the right to be. Teach myself a lesson or two.
But do I regret it?
No. Hell no.
These kids have made themselves an indelible part of my life (even if I may forget their names — sorry, guys). Ask me what’s been the best part of being a teacher, and right away, I’ll tell you it’s stepping into the classroom (or the Lecture Hall, our theater) and getting face-to-face with the students. Even when the work got tiring and the nights drew out, that kept me going. Intrinsic motivation, as I would teach.
So, buddy, if you’re reading this now, I owe you some thanks. I’ve been changed just as much.
Finally, I just have to give a shout out to my old teachers — some of whom, I’ve had the chance to work with. Some of whom are actually leaving with me.
Thank you, ‘chers!
It’s an embarrassingly tough job. Experiencing it from the other side, I can genuinely say that now. But without you, my growing years wouldn’t have been as full and as memorable as it is.
You’ve touched my life in more ways than I can imagine. And you don’t get enough thanks for the job you do, but you do it anyway.
I’d like to think you do it out of love. You might not admit it… Or you might not feel it. But I’d like to believe it’s there.
And I couldn’t have had better examples of the kind of teacher I should be had it not been for all of you.
