KWENTONG TEACHER || 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 𝘁𝗲𝗮𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝘁𝗮𝘂𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗺𝗲

By Richard Davide
Dinagat Islands Division

𝗕𝗲𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝗜 𝗝𝗼𝗶𝗻𝗲𝗱 𝗗𝗲𝗽𝗘𝗱

Every Teacher’s Month, I find myself going back to high school. Not so much to the classroom, but to the road home. And to those nights when it was already late, and I was still on my way home because I had just finished cleaning a house, doing some laundry, or helping out in the farm.

I remember those things more clearly now than I remember some of the lessons I learned in school. And maybe that is why Teacher’s Month feels a little more personal to me.

Because before I became someone who works in education, I was once a learner who needed a little help just to keep going.

Before high school, I spent about four years moving from one place to another and doing whatever work I could find. Naging boy ako. I worked as an assistant in a bridal shop. Nagtrabaho rin ako sa isang karenderia.

I was young. Around 12. But I was already learning how to get by.

Kung may kailangang gawin, ginagawa ko. Kung may trabaho, pinapasok ko.

I wasn't thinking about a career or some big future back then. I was simply trying to get through each day. Sabi ko pa nga dati “okay na ako makapagtrabaho sa isang Sari-Sari store.”

But one day, something in me kept saying: Gusto ko umuwi at mag-aral ulit.

So, I went home to Dinagat. And I came home with almost nothing.

Walang pera. Walang birth certificate. Walang kumpletong requirements. Lakas ng loob lang. I wanted to study. Gusto ko lang talaga mag-aral ulit.

Kaya nag-enroll ako. Temporary enrolled.

I didn't know how long I would be able to stay, or even how I was going to get through the everyday expenses of being a student.

But I had a classroom. And for me, that was enough reason to try.

𝗜 𝗝𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗪𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗕𝗲 𝗮𝗻 𝗢𝗿𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗿𝘆 𝗦𝘁𝘂𝗱𝗲𝗻𝘁

I was also older than most of my classmates, around four years older. So, while they were experiencing high school at the usual age, I was trying to catch up with a life that had taken a different route.

Pero gusto ko talagang maranasan ang high school.

Gusto ko iyong uniform. Iyong classroom. Iyong mga kaklase. Iyong activities. Iyong projects. Iyong mga simpleng kalokohan na kasama sa pagiging estudyante.

I wanted what seemed like an ordinary high school life. Kahit hindi naman ordinaryo ang buhay ko outside the classroom. And then there were the practical things.

Baon. Projects. School requirements. Mga gastusin na, para sa ibang estudyante, bahagi lang ng normal na buhay.

For me, every little expense had to be figured out.

And I had no parent to call when I needed money.

So, I worked.

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗧𝗲𝗮𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝗪𝗵𝗼 𝗚𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗠𝗲 𝗮 𝗪𝗮𝘆

Some of my teachers would let me help around their homes.

Minsan naglilinis ako. Minsan naglalaba. Minsan sumasama ako sa bukid. Kung ano ang kailangang gawin, tinutulungan ko. Walang formal na arrangement. Walang kontrata. Walang malaking usapan. I simply knew that I needed money for school, and I knew I could work for it.

So, I did.

May mga gabi na madaling-araw na ako nakakauwi. Pagod mula sa paglilinis o paglalaba.

Then the next morning, papasok ulit. Uniform. Bag. Class.

And somehow, I would do it all over again.

Looking back now, I realize how difficult that must have been.

Pero noong nandoon ako, hindi ko naman iniisip na mahirap ang buhay ko.

I just thought: Kailangan kong pumasok bukas.

𝗠𝗮’𝗮𝗺 𝗙𝗲: “𝗠𝗮𝘆 𝗢𝗽𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗞𝗮”

I remember one of my second-year advisers in particular.

She was very kind to me. She would even tell her children about me, about my life. And at some point, parang iba na ‘yong tingin ng ibang anak niya sa’kin. Peru maybe it was just her way of inspiring them. Making me as an example.

That teacher was Ma’am Fe.

She noticed that I was older than most of my classmates. Maybe she understood that I had already gone through things that they hadn't.

At one point, she introduced me to ALS. Na-appreciate ko ‘yon.

Not because I wanted to leave regular high school. Actually, gusto kong manatili. I wanted to experience what I imagined a normal high school life should be.

Gusto kong maging ordinaryong estudyante. Gusto kong maranasan ang school programs, projects, activities, and even the little things that seemed so ordinary to everyone else.

But what stayed with me was that my teacher gave me an option. She didn't decide for me.

Hindi niya sinabi kung ano ang dapat kong piliin. She simply made sure I knew there was another path if I needed it.

May option ka. And I think that mattered.

Sometimes, especially when you're young and already carrying so much, you don't need someone to decide your life for you. You just need someone to show you that you have choices.

I chose to stay in regular high school. And my teachers helped me stay.

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗥𝗼𝗮𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗚𝗿𝗮𝗱𝘂𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻

Eventually, I graduated. At that time, I was simply happy that I made it.

But now, looking back, I realize that graduation meant much more than I understood then.

It meant all those late nights had finally led somewhere.

The cleaning. The laundry. The farm works. The days of wondering where my next baon would come from. The projects I had to find a way to complete. The mornings when I had to wake up and go to school despite everything.

It meant that the boy who came home to Dinagat with almost nothing had finally finished high school.

And I know now that I didn't get there alone.

𝗪𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗟𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗲𝗿 𝗕𝗲𝗰𝗮𝗺𝗲 𝗮𝗻 𝗘𝗱𝘂𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗸𝗲𝗿

Funny how life works.

Years later, I found myself working in education.

I may not be a classroom teacher, but my work has brought me close to learners and their stories: learner formation, leadership, learner rights and protection, career guidance, youth programs, school activities, and the many things we do to make school a little more meaningful for young people.

And sometimes, when I'm working with learners, I see something familiar.

A quiet student.
A hesitant learner leader.
Someone who wants to participate but isn't sure if they belong.
Someone carrying something that isn't written anywhere in their records.

And I remember myself.
I know that a learner can walk into a classroom carrying an entire story that nobody else knows.

I know what it is like to sit in class while worrying about something outside the classroom.

Alam ko iyong pakiramdam na may problema ka, pero kailangan mo pa ring pumasok.

And I know how much difference it makes when a teacher chooses to notice.
Maybe that is why learner formation means so much to me.

I know what it feels like to be on the receiving end of that kind of understanding.

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗗𝗶𝗴𝗻𝗶𝘁𝘆 𝗼𝗳 𝗕𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗚𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗻 𝗮 𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲

My teachers probably never thought they were doing anything extraordinary.

For them, maybe I was simply a student who needed some work. A student who needed a little consideration. A student who needed to be shown another option.

But those things stayed with me.

Because when you grow up with very little, you remember the people who help you without making you feel small. That is what I remember most.

They didn't make me feel helpless.
They gave me a way to contribute.
They gave me a way to earn my baon.
They allowed me to keep my dignity while trying to stay in school.

And that meant more than they probably realized.

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗟𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗜 𝗥𝗲𝗺𝗲𝗺𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝗠𝗼𝘀𝘁

So, when Teacher’s Month comes around, I don't immediately think about flowers, chocolates, or appreciation posts.

I think about those nights.
The houses I cleaned.
The clothes I washed.
The farms I helped in.
The late walks home.
And the classroom I knew I had to return to the next morning.

I think about the teachers who were part of all of that.

Maybe they don't remember those details anymore.

Maybe for them, those were just ordinary days.

But I remember.

Because those ordinary days eventually brought me to an extraordinary one:
graduation.

And now, here I am, working with learners myself.

I listen to them.
I help create opportunities for them.
I encourage them to lead, to speak, to participate, and to believe that their voices matter.

And sometimes I wonder if this is my own way of coming full circle.

The boy who once needed teachers to help him stay in school is now part of a system trying to help other learners stay, grow, and find their own way.

𝗣𝗮𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗜𝘁 𝗢𝗻

I know I can never repay my teachers for everything they did.
But maybe I don't have to.
Maybe I just have to pass it on.
The patience. The understanding. The opportunity. The simple act of telling a young person:
“Sige. Try mo.”
Or:
“May option ka.”
Or sometimes, simply:
“Padayon.”

You never really know what a learner is carrying.
You never know how far one small kindness will travel.

When I think about it now, my teachers didn't change my life through one grand gesture.
They helped me in small, ordinary ways. But those small things accumulated. Until one day, I was standing on a graduation stage. And perhaps that is what teachers do.
They keep showing up.
They keep helping.
They keep believing.
Often without knowing where that belief will eventually lead.

For me, it led here.
To a life in education.
To working with learners.
To an advocacy that keeps reminding me of the boy I once was.

A boy who came home to Dinagat with almost nothing, but with one very simple wish:

Gusto kong mag-aral.

And somehow, my teachers helped make that possible.

𝗔 𝗦𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗹𝗲 𝗧𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗸 𝗬𝗼𝘂

So, this Teacher’s Month, I don't really have a grand message.
I just have a story.

A story about a boy who had to work for his baon, sometimes coming home late from cleaning, laundry, or farm work, and still showing up at school the next morning.

A story about teachers who never made him feel that his circumstances made him less of a student.

A story about an adviser who showed him another path when she introduced him to ALS.

And a story about how, eventually, that boy graduated.

Years later, he found himself working with learners, hoping to give them some of the things his teachers once gave him.

Maybe that's the best way I can say thank you. By paying it forward.

By trying, in my own way, to become the kind of adult my teachers once were for me.

To my teachers then at REESNHS, and to the teachers I now have the privilege of working alongside:

𝗛𝗮𝗽𝗽𝘆 𝗧𝗲𝗮𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗿’𝘀 𝗠𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗵

I may not remember every lesson you taught me.

But I remember what you helped me do.
You helped me stay in school long enough to discover that I could have a life beyond the one I was given.

And that is something I will carry with me for the rest of my life.

END