Jared Richard Uy
AFTER receiving a text message last year from human resource department that the school hired me as their Filipino teacher, I couldn’t elucidate my joy and I found my heart was also hurdling with bliss. ‘This is it!’ I said to myself. After the sweat of making a thesis, dealing with high school kids during practice teaching and finishing all my requirements, finally.. I’m employed.
My sheer delight continued when I also passed the teachers board examination. Heaven was indeed smiling at me. I am now a professional teacher. I could hear the ‘Star Wars’ OST playing in my background.
First day of school.
I was given five sections of 13 and 14 year old kids. I was excited until I met them.
They were different. Smarter than I thought but twice rowdier than what I expected.These kids were not the emblematic ones who watch Tagalog teleserye and follow the antics of the famous ‘Budoy’. They aren’t exposed to the language.
I am not a native Cebuano speaker, so the first few days and months were not a bed of roses for both parties. Their nose bled. I became a human English-Filipino dictionary.
I got disappointed in the following months not because I was having a hard time handling their behavior but because I could feel they don’t give a crap on what I do for them. Strategy after strategy but my predictions of the outcome were the exact opposite. Some were forcefully doing what I ask them to do, but most of them weren’t really into it. At the end of the day, I ask myself ‘Are they really learning from me?’.
Frustrations came. Co-teachers even noticed I lost weight and started to ask what was wrong. For me, I just got shuddered and overwhelmed with the life I’ve gone into. Of course, there were great days but most were dog days. To sum it all, I felt unsatisfied. Questions came popped into my head, ‘Am I teaching strategies not enough?’ ‘Do I suck at this?’ ‘Does my subject really bore them?’ Whatever the question is, the only one who could answer it is me. I couldn’t denounce the occurrence to my students. It’s all about me.
My boss noticed the flaws but still managed to help me. I tried. I cried. I tried. I cried. I had to repeat the process for the nth time but it was stiff. I’m still grateful for her help.
It’s like the whole four years of studying to be a teacher before was now piece of debris that fell into pieces. It was difficult. I realized that teaching is the most sacred vocation one could ever do. It is not easy. Lesson planning, organizing your students, making them listen to you and having them do your activities everyday are not laid-back tasks.
As I look back on my first year of teaching, I don’t consider myself a failure. It was a year of learning experience for me. Was I being too hard on myself? Maybe. But seeing my kids appreciate the language makes me happier. I see that some have improved their confidence in speaking, writing and reading Filipino. I am happy that most of them are now interested to learn more about the books Ibong Adarna and Florante at Laura. I would like to thank them, my boss and co-teachers for helping me stretch my potential.
I know, someday, my students would all forget these things. But the never-ending talking-tos, reprimands and chastisement I showed to them, the friendship, and the love for the language I possess would surely never be forgotten. You can take this subject flippantly but always remember where you are right now and don’t forget the skin color you have. They still matter. Think again.
Do I still plan to teach in the future? Yes. It still matters.