The immense joys of being a teacher

Yesterday, I met my last surviving teacher. He was about to die and asked me to help write his last will and testament. The experience made me reflect why brilliant men and women take on the most unsung, underrated work; teaching.

My paternal grandfather, an Ilonggo from Jaro, Iloilo, migrated to Cebu to marry my grandmother in Dumanjug, and practiced his profession: teaching. He taught for more than 42 years, he is now 92. My late mother was also a teacher for more than 40 years. They were assigned in many mountain villages where pupils came barefoot and where classrooms were made of bamboo and cogon. I have been teaching since 1969, a good 48 years. It started when I was about to graduate and obtain my Bachelor of Arts degree. My professor died in the middle of the semester. The dean violated government policies by appointing me to take over the class. From that time at age 19 until today, I never stopped teaching. I can never retire from the classroom. They did retire me after having reached the compulsory age, but rehired me immediately.

What is in teaching that people dedicate a lifetime to educating others? It is not the money. In the Philippines, the teachers are among the most underpaid and most overworked. It is not for glory because here, actors and actresses are much more glorified. It is not for power, for the teaching profession offers none. Of course, by power, it may mean the opportunity to influence the future generations through the students. I have students who are already congressmen, governors, and city and municipal mayors, Cabinet members, and bureau and regional directors. I influenced the way they look at things, and manner by which they approach circumstances and events.

Former US President Bill Clinton, during his first presidential inauguration honored his first grade teacher by making her sit with him in the table of honor during his oath-taking ceremony. I also honor my teachers every chance I have. I remember them every Christmas, and always make it a point to attend their funerals. I always speak during their interment, and tell the people the departed molded my character. I applaud institutions that award outstanding teachers. I cannot imagine a world without teachers.

I saw in the aura of my dying teacher the face of contentment, peace, and fulfillment. It is not wealth he will bequeath his heirs. He does not have land, shares of stocks, or any investments to be distributed among his children. But in his small room which is also a tiny library and museum, there are hundreds of letters from former students and fellow teachers, faded photographs filled with poignant memories of a life well-spent.

He told me to write a book about teachers, the most unsung men and women whom we continue to ignore and refuse to honor. I just got word that an hour ago my teacher passed away. He was clutching a copy of the will I made him yesterday. He gave away all his books to the school library, and left all his ten professional children to the world. They are all teachers.