For the past few months, my Tita Wen, a public high school teacher, would occasionally call me to ask for help in initiating online meetings via Zoom, Microsoft Teams and most recently, Google Meets. These weren’t the most pleasurable of times. More often than not, my patience would already run out five minutes into the call. “Pinduta gani ng link!” I would blurt out exasperated. But guilt would consume me right after I snap and I would try my best to remain calm and patient up until we could successfully mount a video chat, albeit two hours later. For months, she has been rehearsing to conduct classes online. What I don’t realise is that what seems like a routine task for me is apparently gargantuan for the likes of my Tita Wen whose teaching methods still largely persisted at lecturing in a cramped, poorly ventilated classroom writing with a piece of chalk on a blackboard. The pandemic has forced many of our teachers to take on the massive undertaking of making sure our children’s development is not upended by the virus. Already overworked and underpaid, the additional burden of learning modern technology is surely taking its toll. My friend’s mother, an elementary school teacher, was hospitalised several weeks ago. My friend suspects it’s because of the stress of preparing to take classes online.
As schools in the Philippines re-open today, coinciding with Teacher’s Day, I think of all my teachers from all levels of my education and I cannot help but feel an immense sense of gratefulness for their patience throughout my growing years. I remember all of them with pride even though undoubtedly, my classmates and I had given them a hard time. The rebellious teen years were a cause of constant friction with my teachers. One time in freshman year, my Math teacher, out of punishment for our never-ending antics in the classroom, made our whole class line up at noontime with the sun at its peak, in the middle of the quadrangle for all the world to see. The whole school jeered at us. It wasn’t a proud moment but my classmates and I look back at it with pride because we felt notorious. It became a popular punishment of choice later on and somehow we felt we pioneered that! There were many other notable instances but I think the thing that struck me later on is that no matter how rebellious we thought we were, our teachers were already one step ahead. In hindsight, they were probably only humouring us too. A classic take at the saying “papunta ka pa lang, pabalik na ako”.
But with the pandemic drastically changing the educational landscape, our teachers are now facing unfamiliar terrain. While notably they have wisdom beyond their years, that wisdom does not automatically translate to tech-savviness. My Tita Wen, with her meagre teacher’s salary, had to procure her own device, learn to navigate the intricate world wide web and on top of all that, crowd-source for bond paper donations so her school could print the required class modules. Tito Noy, my Tita Wen’s husband, luckily retired before all this shit hit the fan. He is now playing assistant to my Tita Wen. I’m guessing he bears the brunt of my Tita Wen’s frustrations. Out of all the teachers I’ve had, they are and forever will be my favourite pair.
I asked Tita Wen how the first day of her online class went. She sent the family group chat the following photos with a caption “Online Class… Laban lang!!!”
Salute to all our teachers! Your heroism does not get the credit it rightfully deserves!