Flowers from a class that no teacher wanted to handle

LAB DAB … lab dab … lab dab—that was the sound of my heart beating. The weather was fair, the birds were chirping, the leaves were swaying—everything was under control—it seemed.

The students were all excited to have a new teacher after three months of having no adviser. They were all eager to get one—me.

Based on their stories, no teacher had had the guts to handle their class. Some students giggled while others looked dismayed as they told me this.

That was on Sept. 2, 1992, my first day of service in one of the public schools in Mandaluyong City. It was an experience with mixed emotions.

Sixth grade was my assigned level. My last job was in a private school. There were big differences between teaching in a private school and in a public school.

My new students came from the nearby community. It was good to know that though they were less gifted intellectually, they had big hearts. It was natural that they would sometimes have their differences but they patched up their quarrels quickly and easily.

On Oct. 29 of that year, almost all the boys were absent. I became worried. Suddenly, my pupils inside the classroom looked out the window and yelled.

When I, too, looked outside, the absentees were there jumping from one nitso to another, looking like they were enjoying what they were doing.

The following day, as I was giving my litany of advice, one boy surprised me by handing me flowers. I told him that my birthday was not until March.

He nodded and said the flowers were really for me—more than three bunches. He and the other boys had waited for cemetery visitors to leave their loved ones’ tombs.

Ah, I almost forgot that the school was just a stone’s throw away from the public cemetery where the students’ homes were also located.

The kids also collected candles to be used as floor wax for cleaning our classroom. Using those candles, we had the shiniest floor in our old building.

One morning a supervisor came to my class because it was the school’s policy that new teachers be observed.

I was worried because my advisory class was not that bright and was really mischievous. To my amazement, they behaved and focused on our lesson.

The supervisor congratulated them and said they were good compared to the other classes. She even commended the kids for our clean and shiny floor.

The children were happy. I was, too. The compliment meant a lot to them and, of course, to me as a neophyte in the service.

In March of 1993, graduation time, I did not know how I would feel now that my students would be moving up to the next level. I was going to miss the mischievous and bubbly lot.

After more than two decades, two of my pupils came back to visit with pasalubong for me. One brought bananas, the other perfume, lotion and soap.

It was not the gifts but the thought that counted. They showed their gratitude for what they had become. They might not have become rich but I know I had instilled the correct values in them.

Many more anecdotes have not been written here, but in my heart and mind they are as vivid as the day my students and I lived them.

As I write this, I am waiting for another chapter in my career. I passed the National Qualifying Examination for Principals in January. Only God knows where my next assignment will be.

(The author is a Master Teacher II at Isaac Lopez Integrated School and is co-adviser of the school paper.)