HOW DO WE KEEP THE SONG PLAYING
ON A DAY IN A LIFE OF A TEACHER
Richard M. Collado
She was being embraced by the cool December breeze passing through the old window made out of Capiz in their room. The fragrance of the guyabano, papaya, and other fruit bearing trees in bloom made a soothing sight of that early morning. She bent up her body with life bulging in her womb from the past restful and peaceful night. She gazed at her partner in life while still in his deep slumber from his graveyard schedule as a shift manager on a fastfood chain. As she is about to go to the kitchen she laid her hand to her two of the causes of her life, a four year old hyperactive son and a lovely one year old daughter.
She hurriedly went down from the staircase and prepare for a sumptuous breakfast and milk for her children. While doing the morning chores she suddenly hums a timeless song, a song that makes teachers more noble and committed in their profession.
ON A DAY IN A LIFE OF A TEACHER
Richard M. Collado
She was being embraced by the cool December breeze passing through the old window made out of Capiz in their room. The fragrance of the guyabano, papaya, and other fruit bearing trees in bloom made a soothing sight of that early morning. She bent up her body with life bulging in her womb from the past restful and peaceful night. She gazed at her partner in life while still in his deep slumber from his graveyard schedule as a shift manager on a fastfood chain. As she is about to go to the kitchen she laid her hand to her two of the causes of her life, a four year old hyperactive son and a lovely one year old daughter.
She hurriedly went down from the staircase and prepare for a sumptuous breakfast and milk for her children. While doing the morning chores she suddenly hums a timeless song, a song that makes teachers more noble and committed in their profession.
I’m a teacher a purveyor of truth and light,
I’m a teacher I was born to improve mankind
It’s my duty to enlighten the world and
And guide the young to the path of the Lord.
It’s already forty five minutes past the hour of six. She’s almost ready for school. She carried all her things with her vibrant maternity dress. She never fails to pay hugs and kisses to her siblings and her wife. As she went on to the waiting shed for a ride she took a deep breath and look at the vibrant sky as if asking for the ultimate creator to give her renewed commitment to her profession.
Indeed, teaching is one of the noblest professions. Or better be called a vocation. The travails which they pass through are untold. A teacher is a personification of righteousness, justice, fairness, beauty, and other virtues worth emulating by young minds.
I’m a teacher I must teach what is good and right
I’m a teacher I must live what I preach in life
As a model citizen of the world,
I must in thoughts, words and deeds be so good.
Now she’s in the portal of the nostalgic workplace. It’s her home for years, a world which she considers a home away from home. She finds the ingredients of a family. She was greeted by sweet lovely pupils wearing a contagious smile, comforting gestures of genuine affection from friends and co-workers who became her parents, brothers and sisters in most trying times. Yes this has been her kingdom for eight to ten hours a day, five times a week. This is where she spends most of time. At times she has been haunted by a feeling of guilt for she can’t pay much quality time to her kids and family. But that’s what a teacher all about. There are a lot of things she needs to forget once in a while for the good of others. She offers her selfless love to her clients for that is her calling. She needs to plant goodness not to expect something in return but for good is good. Her longing for her kids is being transferred to her pupils. That’s the very reason why the mother’s affection comes out naturally in her. She finds genuine happiness looking at them metamorphosed. Such a simple learning she saw in them gave her a feeling achievement.
In the children I write the future
In their learning I find great joy
I might never sit on a throne
But I’m contended my life is full
With all her impetus drive in teaching she didn’t even noticed its snack time. Some of her pupils ran towards her sharing some stuff which they brought with them for snacks. Undeniable there is a pinch of happiness in her heart. That simple gesture affirms her somehow how she has been loved by her pupils. While taking her snacks with them she called on her pupils who are going for a tilt. She made a point to check how far they have gone preparing for the competition. She sees to it they were able to do their assigned tasks. That was just in a couple of minutes but it will contribute somehow, because it isn’t her who will be competing but the pupils themselves. She has trying to imbibe the sense of responsibility and discipline.
She went back teaching after the snack. She faced the class with all enthusiasm and delight to deliver a new lesson. The room was filled with energy. The lesson became more interesting and more competitive because of the varied activities she has been giving.
One of the most awaited part of the day is the communion with her co-workers sharing the food for their lunch and the food they got from their classrooms- their interaction and experience with their pupils. It’s in this socialization that they will able to improve themselves as an individual and as a professional.
It’s time for the afternoon session. In the middle of her discussion, an unusual scenery did never escape from her sight. One of her pupils from the back is not paying attention on her. Instead, he is writing something on his paper. She walks slowly towards the little boy while delivering her lectures. The boy didn’t notice her. In her amazement, she saw the boy making a sketch of a woman having a big bulge on her stomach, wearing a floral printed maternity dress, with a short black hair, and has that lively rounded eye carrying a pile of books and a shoulder bag. Admittedly, she has made a conclusion that it was her whom the little boy is sketching. Instead of interrupting him she just continued her lesson.
Yes, I’m a teacher I must brave all the roaring waves
And the fury of the rivers and lakes and seas
I must climb on up the mountains and hills
Where children there wait for my love and care
At 4:30 o’clock, the bell prompted the end of the class. As customary, the kids bid the teacher adieu and run hurriedly towards the gate, a precursor that a day’s work is complete again. The teacher wipes her temple as she erases the blackboard. When she turns towards the room, she sees the sight of trembling child in an unnerving situation glued to the green painted chair. The little boy’s guilt trip was discernible; she could see it in those tiny, misty and apologetic brown eyes. She blankly approached the little boy when suddenly the boy said in a croaked voice…. “I know you will scold me. Ma’am I’m sorry for not paying attention, I was busy sketching my favorite teacher… Here look ma’am….” Then in a flash, he went out of the room leaving the room hastily with the teacher taken aback.
She looks at the paper in wild bewilderment. It seemed forever. It is a picture of a pregnant woman, who exactly looks like her. In an unruly penmanship it reads “teacher Marifel, my hero, my inspiration. That itself is a priceless possession, a precious gift, it’s more than everything. As she excitedly fixing herself going home and play another role of being a mother and a wife she’s carrying smile of contentment.
In the jeepney where she’s riding bound home, she gazed at the flame painted sky while the song keeps on playing, lulling her sense from a tiresome yet fulfilling day.
In the mountain or in the city
On an island where I may be
I shall keep on bringing the light
And live as a teacher until I die.
I’m a teacher I was born to improve mankind
It’s my duty to enlighten the world and
And guide the young to the path of the Lord.
It’s already forty five minutes past the hour of six. She’s almost ready for school. She carried all her things with her vibrant maternity dress. She never fails to pay hugs and kisses to her siblings and her wife. As she went on to the waiting shed for a ride she took a deep breath and look at the vibrant sky as if asking for the ultimate creator to give her renewed commitment to her profession.
Indeed, teaching is one of the noblest professions. Or better be called a vocation. The travails which they pass through are untold. A teacher is a personification of righteousness, justice, fairness, beauty, and other virtues worth emulating by young minds.
I’m a teacher I must teach what is good and right
I’m a teacher I must live what I preach in life
As a model citizen of the world,
I must in thoughts, words and deeds be so good.
Now she’s in the portal of the nostalgic workplace. It’s her home for years, a world which she considers a home away from home. She finds the ingredients of a family. She was greeted by sweet lovely pupils wearing a contagious smile, comforting gestures of genuine affection from friends and co-workers who became her parents, brothers and sisters in most trying times. Yes this has been her kingdom for eight to ten hours a day, five times a week. This is where she spends most of time. At times she has been haunted by a feeling of guilt for she can’t pay much quality time to her kids and family. But that’s what a teacher all about. There are a lot of things she needs to forget once in a while for the good of others. She offers her selfless love to her clients for that is her calling. She needs to plant goodness not to expect something in return but for good is good. Her longing for her kids is being transferred to her pupils. That’s the very reason why the mother’s affection comes out naturally in her. She finds genuine happiness looking at them metamorphosed. Such a simple learning she saw in them gave her a feeling achievement.
In the children I write the future
In their learning I find great joy
I might never sit on a throne
But I’m contended my life is full
With all her impetus drive in teaching she didn’t even noticed its snack time. Some of her pupils ran towards her sharing some stuff which they brought with them for snacks. Undeniable there is a pinch of happiness in her heart. That simple gesture affirms her somehow how she has been loved by her pupils. While taking her snacks with them she called on her pupils who are going for a tilt. She made a point to check how far they have gone preparing for the competition. She sees to it they were able to do their assigned tasks. That was just in a couple of minutes but it will contribute somehow, because it isn’t her who will be competing but the pupils themselves. She has trying to imbibe the sense of responsibility and discipline.
She went back teaching after the snack. She faced the class with all enthusiasm and delight to deliver a new lesson. The room was filled with energy. The lesson became more interesting and more competitive because of the varied activities she has been giving.
One of the most awaited part of the day is the communion with her co-workers sharing the food for their lunch and the food they got from their classrooms- their interaction and experience with their pupils. It’s in this socialization that they will able to improve themselves as an individual and as a professional.
It’s time for the afternoon session. In the middle of her discussion, an unusual scenery did never escape from her sight. One of her pupils from the back is not paying attention on her. Instead, he is writing something on his paper. She walks slowly towards the little boy while delivering her lectures. The boy didn’t notice her. In her amazement, she saw the boy making a sketch of a woman having a big bulge on her stomach, wearing a floral printed maternity dress, with a short black hair, and has that lively rounded eye carrying a pile of books and a shoulder bag. Admittedly, she has made a conclusion that it was her whom the little boy is sketching. Instead of interrupting him she just continued her lesson.
Yes, I’m a teacher I must brave all the roaring waves
And the fury of the rivers and lakes and seas
I must climb on up the mountains and hills
Where children there wait for my love and care
At 4:30 o’clock, the bell prompted the end of the class. As customary, the kids bid the teacher adieu and run hurriedly towards the gate, a precursor that a day’s work is complete again. The teacher wipes her temple as she erases the blackboard. When she turns towards the room, she sees the sight of trembling child in an unnerving situation glued to the green painted chair. The little boy’s guilt trip was discernible; she could see it in those tiny, misty and apologetic brown eyes. She blankly approached the little boy when suddenly the boy said in a croaked voice…. “I know you will scold me. Ma’am I’m sorry for not paying attention, I was busy sketching my favorite teacher… Here look ma’am….” Then in a flash, he went out of the room leaving the room hastily with the teacher taken aback.
She looks at the paper in wild bewilderment. It seemed forever. It is a picture of a pregnant woman, who exactly looks like her. In an unruly penmanship it reads “teacher Marifel, my hero, my inspiration. That itself is a priceless possession, a precious gift, it’s more than everything. As she excitedly fixing herself going home and play another role of being a mother and a wife she’s carrying smile of contentment.
In the jeepney where she’s riding bound home, she gazed at the flame painted sky while the song keeps on playing, lulling her sense from a tiresome yet fulfilling day.
In the mountain or in the city
On an island where I may be
I shall keep on bringing the light
And live as a teacher until I die.
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