KWENTONG TEACHER || 𝗔 𝗧𝗿𝗶𝗯𝘂𝘁𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗧𝗲𝗮𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝗪𝗵𝗼 𝗛𝗲𝗹𝗽𝗲𝗱 𝗦𝗵𝗮𝗽𝗲 𝗠𝘆 𝗟𝗶𝗳𝗲

By: Gewaresel Tecson Carlos
Principal III
Butuan City School of Arts and Trades

There are teachers we remember because of the lessons they taught. There are teachers we remember because of the way they made us feel. And then there are teachers we can never forget because, in many ways, we owe to them who and what we have become.

As we celebrate Teachers’ Month, I find myself looking back on my elementary years and remembering the teachers who became part of my journey, teachers whose influence remained with me long after I left their classrooms.

𝗪𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗠𝘆 𝗟𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗟𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗕𝗲𝗴𝗮𝗻
I can still vividly remember my Grade 1 teacher, Mrs. Paulina H. Mancio. She made stories come alive before our eyes. One of my most unforgettable memories was how she presented stories like Si Pagong at si Matsing using an improvised television. She would roll the pictures inside it and move them from one scene to another as she told the story. To a young child like me, it was magical. I would watch every picture with excitement, completely drawn into the story.

I did not know it then, but that simple improvised television opened a door for me. That was where my love for reading began. Thank you, Ma’am Mancio, for showing me that learning could be imaginative, beautiful, and exciting.

𝗟𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗥𝗲𝘀𝗽𝗼𝗻𝘀𝗶𝗯𝗶𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘆 𝗘𝗮𝗿𝗹𝘆
My Grade 2 teacher was Mrs. Evangeline C. Racaza. From her, I learned responsibility and discipline. We were given duties; classroom sweeping, tending the garden, watering the plants, keeping ourselves behaved during discussions, and completing whatever task was assigned to us.

At that young age, I learned an important lesson from her: when something is entrusted to you, you finish it and you do it responsibly.

Looking back, I realize that many of the habits I carry today; being accountable, attending to responsibilities, and refusing to leave important work unfinished; were first nurtured in her classroom.

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗣𝗼𝘄𝗲𝗿 𝗼𝗳 𝗕𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗦𝗲𝗲𝗻
In Grade 3, I had Mrs. Helen G. Suazo. What I remember most about her was her gentleness. She retired in the middle of our school year, and for some time we did not have a regular Grade 3 adviser. Eventually, we were taken in and guided by Mr. Apolonio Lasaga.

Mr. Lasaga had his own special way of making a child feel important. He would praise me, notice my efforts, and sometimes give us cookies and biscuits. As a child, I always looked forward to his classes; not only because of the food, but because he made me feel seen. His words of praise gave me another reason to be excited about going to school.

Sometimes, what inspires a child is not something grand. Sometimes, it is simply a teacher saying, “I noticed you. You did well.”

Then came Grade 4; a year that became one of the most painful chapters of my childhood.

My Grade 4 teacher-adviser was Mrs. Corazon P. Colon.

𝗪𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗚𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗳 𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗱 𝗘𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴
On June 28, 1992, during the early part of that school year, my father died because of a stroke. I was only ten years old.

I was a Papa’s girl.

His death broke something inside me that I did not know how to explain. I lost interest in school. I kept missing class. I wanted only to stay at home and sleep because, in my young mind, sleep offered me the possibility of seeing my father again in my dreams.

I missed him beyond words.

At ten years old, I could not yet process d grief, let alone understand it. All I understood was that I wanted my Papa back. School, grades, lessons, and attendance no longer seemed important to me. I could not imagine what the future would look like without him.

My eldest sister, Manang Wendilyn, closely monitored me because Ma’am Colon would tell her about my frequent absences. There were many days when I had to be persuaded; even forced, to go back to school.

I can still remember Ma’am Colon jokingly telling me that if I kept being absent, my name might eventually come true: “Giwa si Resel”—giwala si Resel—from Gewaresel.

At that time, I did not appreciate what she was trying to do. In my grief, I simply did not care.

What I understand now is that she was trying to hold on to a child who was slowly letting go of school.

Ma’am Colon understood what was happening to me. Through her conversations with my eldest sister, she came to understand the depth of our family's loss.

My mother was grieving too. She was suddenly faced with the enormous responsibility of raising and providing for seven children. I was the sixth child, and my younger sister was only eight years old and in Grade 2.

We were devastated.

As a child, I felt as though there was no future ahead of us; and no future ahead of me.

𝗔 𝗧𝗲𝗮𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗪𝗵𝗼 𝗥𝗲𝗳𝘂𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗚𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗨𝗽
But Ma’am Colon did not give up on me. She helped me. She talked with my other teachers. She understood why my performance had suffered. Somehow, I made it through Grade 4 with an average of 80.

I know now that it may have been what we sometimes call a “pasang-awa” grade. But looking back, I see it differently.

It was not simply a passing grade.

𝗔 𝗦𝗲𝗰𝗼𝗻𝗱 𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲
It was a second chance. And sometimes, a second chance is exactly what a child needs.

Had my teachers simply looked at my attendance, my grades, and my incomplete performance without trying to understand the child behind them, I might have been retained in Grade 4. Perhaps I would have become even more discouraged. Perhaps I would have given up completely.

I will never know.

What I do know is that a teacher chose compassion over judgment.

Because someone believed that I deserved another chance, I moved on to Grade 5. I did better. I regained my strength. I continued studying.

And, as they say, the rest is history.

𝗪𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗠𝘆 𝗧𝗲𝗮𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝗧𝗮𝘂𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗠𝗲 𝗕𝗲𝘆𝗼𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗖𝗹𝗮𝘀𝘀𝗿𝗼𝗼𝗺
Today, whenever I look at where life has brought me, I cannot help but remember those teachers.

They taught me reading, discipline, responsibility, gentleness, confidence, perseverance, and hope; but more than that, they taught me something that no textbook could ever fully explain:

A teacher can change the direction of a child's life.

To Mrs. Paulina H. Mancio, Mrs. Evangeline C. Racaza, Mrs. Helen G. Suazo, Mr. Apolonio Lasaga, and especially Mrs. Corazon P. Colon, thank you.

Thank you for teaching the little girl I once was.

Thank you for seeing something in me before I could see it in myself.

Thank you for the stories, the discipline, the gentleness, the biscuits, the praises, the reminders, the understanding, and most especially, the chances.

This Teachers’ Month, my prayer goes to all teachers everywhere: Please never underestimate the power you hold in the life of a learner.

𝗦𝗲𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗖𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗱 𝗕𝗲𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗚𝗿𝗮𝗱𝗲𝘀
The child who is always absent may be grieving. The child whose grades suddenly fall may be fighting a battle you cannot see.

The difficult child may simply be asking, in the only way he or she knows, “Does someone still believe in me?”

Sometimes, before a learner needs another lesson, another test, or another grade, that learner simply needs a teacher who will say:

“I still see you. I still believe in you. You still have a chance.”

I am a living testimony of what that chance can become.

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗛𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝗜𝗻𝘀𝗶𝗱𝗲 𝗢𝘂𝗿 𝗖𝗹𝗮𝘀𝘀𝗿𝗼𝗼𝗺𝘀
In a complicated world where integrity sometimes seems to be a vanishing commodity, I continue to believe that there is hope; and much of that hope lives inside our classrooms.

Because teachers do more than teach lessons.

Teachers mold futures.

Teachers restore confidence.

Teachers awaken dreams.

And sometimes, teachers quietly save a child's future without ever realizing it.

To all my elementary teachers, and to every teacher who continues to put heart into teaching and into the lives of learners: DAGHANG SALAMAT!

May your influence multiply through every learner whose life you touch. May the lessons you teach become values they carry for life. And may you always remember that somewhere, years from now, one of your former learners may look back and say:

“I am who I am today because a teacher once believed in me.”

Happy Teachers’ Month to all our dear teachers.

You are, and will always be, among the greatest molders of our future.