Schooling school officials

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CTIVITIES on the first day of school include the getting to know you sessions and orientation, but teacher Maricel Herrera from Bacoor, Cavite showed us a “getting-to-know-yourteacher” and “picture your room” session that was so honestly painful.

It may be common knowledge how bad public school facilities are but her Facebook post of how she and fellow teachers “adjust” to convert their comfort room to a faculty office, shows how truly bad it is.

But instead of getting education officials to notice and act on this problem, the principal of that school threatened to sue Herrera for damaging the school. Education Secretary Leonor Briones, when interviewed on this matter, “scolded” teachers who pose this shots just for “dramatic” effect for media. Why can’t they make faculty rooms in science labs? She asked.

The lessons we learned here: Teachers embody that value of honesty. But not everyone on the higher ups value that kind of honesty.

Another lesson though, to borrow a phrase, that one flash of Facebook post can start a

Facebook fire.

Soon, other public school teachers across the country post their picture of a comfort room or whatever facility turned into a faculty office, and along with that their stories of sacrifice to a greater goal of serving the students who badly need education to uplift themselves.

The Alliance of Concerned Teachers point out that teachers have the right to express the burdens they face in public schools, the dilemmas of bureaucracy and mismatched solutions to basic problems such as lack of facilities, textbooks, curriculum development, and the unfulfilled promise from government to increase their salaries.

Here is a solidarity of teachers, maligned by officials, including our mayor here, who feel teachers have no right to demand what is just and what is due to them as public servants.

There is a question of integrity on both sides. As millions of teachers sacrificed a lot for the next generation, public officials like Education Secretary Briones earn a yearly salary of P3.9 million and can only chew down on teachers for being “dramatic” and “lecture” them that salary is not an important motivation for teaching.

Schools are grounds for teaching values, of honesty and compassion.

Perhaps school officials need to be grounded on these lessons.* is S

OME days, I want to give up the fight. Today is one of those days.

My mother once told me that if I could let things go—i could lead a much happier life. But I didn’t know how not to be me. But now, I think—was this really what my mother wanted me to be? Not me? Not really.

I think what my mother was trying to tell me was that I was, in fact, trying too hard to be someone else. That I have this image in my mind of what I’m supposed to be but somehow, no matter how hard I try, I can never get there.

Do you believe that you can never get to a place you were never meant to be?

When I was a child, I was told I talked too much and this, obviously, was a bad thing because I always got punished for it.

Every time I chatted with my seatmates, I was moved to another part of the classroom. Away from my circle of friends, my teacher hoped to silence me. She hoped in vain. I eventually got moved to so many different parts of the classroom that by year-end, I had befriended the entire class.

Perhaps, it could have been explained to me that talking wasn’t bad but that talking while the teacher was explaining, was. Of course, I might have retorted that the teacher was not sparking joy in the classroom. And that would have meted me more punishment.

But the message was loud and clear—good kids stay silent. And I desperately wanted to be good so I prayed every day not to be me. But God was deaf to my pleas.

What does good mean, anyway? Who determines what good means? Why do I have to measure myself against other people’s standards? Well, no longer. I’m not a child anymore so I measure myself against my own standards. But there lies the problem. My standards are now more exacting than others.

Someone once told me that I idealized all my relationships. It took me decades to accept this. It took me even longer to accept the fact that I do set impossible standards for myself.

Why do I think that if I let my guard down for one second, I will lose my self? Why do I think that if I can’t solve a problem, I don’t deserve to occupy space on Earth? Why do I think that if I work less, I am worthless?

My mother used to say to me, “Stop. You are enough.” Maybe, it’s time I listened.

Last night, I felt like doing a Pope Benedict—because I’m drained and I feel like I can’t solve the problems that keep coming at me like zombies from all directions.

When I was a child, I believed a super hero would one day come and save me. Today, I don’t see why I should wait for a super hero to save me when I can very well be my own hero. I don’t even need a cape to be that.

Some days, I want to give up the fight. But do not worry. I will not. Because I made a pact with myself that no matter how hard, I will find the strength to save myself.

Be your own hero.*