TRENTA

Ni: Milen Joyce T. Montecalvo

Isang karaniwang araw para kay Mia, isang guro sa pampublikong paaralan. Sa dami ng gawain at bigat ng responsibilidad, napagpasyahan niyang dumaan muna sa isang paborito niyang coffee shop sa lungsod—ang Kapehang Lumad. Tahimik doon, may amoy ng kape at kahapon, perpektong lugar para huminga nang malalim.

Pagpasok niya, agad niyang napansin ang isang batang babae. Pamilyar ito, ngunit hindi niya matukoy kung saan o kailan niya ito nakita. Habang naghihintay ng kanyang inorder, lumapit ang bata sa kanyang mesa.

“Hello, Miss. Ikaw lang mag-isa? Pwede bang tabihan kita?” tanong ng bata, may ngiti sa labi.

Tumango si Mia, bahagyang nagtataka. Marami namang bakanteng upuan, ngunit bakit sa kanya pa umupo? Gusto niya sanang mapag-isa, ngunit hindi rin niya maitanggi ang kakaibang saya na may nagnanais sumama sa kanya. Bihira na iyon sa kanyang buhay.

“Kamusta ang araw mo?” tanong ng bata.

Napaisip si Mia. Karaniwan, siya ang nagtatanong nito sa kanyang mga estudyante, ngunit ngayon siya naman ang tinanong. “Kamusta nga ba ang araw ko?” bulong niya sa sarili.

Gumising siya nang maaga, naghanda para sa klase, nagturo… at ngayon ay umiiwas sa gulo ng palengke para bigyan ang sarili ng kaunting pahinga. Sa isang banda, ayos lang. Pero sa kabilang banda—pagod siya. Pagod sa pagiging guro. Pagod bilang asawa. Pagod bilang anak. Pagod bilang kapatid.

“Okay naman,” sagot niya. “Hindi sobrang okay, pero hindi rin naman masama.”

Tumingin sa kanya ang bata, nag-aalala. “Teacher, okay ka lang ba?”

Bigla na lang bumagsak ang luha ni Mia. Napansin iyon ng bata at iniabot ang tisyu mula sa mesa.

“Sige po, teacher, iiyak mo lang. Promise po, hindi ko ipagsasabi.”

Doon ay bumigay na si Mia. Nagkuwento siya. Tungkol sa bigat ng araw-araw. Tungkol sa pagod na hindi lang galing sa pagtuturo, kundi sa lahat ng inaasahan sa kanya. Hindi alam ng mga tao na sa likod ng kanyang matatag na anyo, may pinipilit itagong pagkapagod.

Tahimik lang ang bata, nakikinig. Ngunit habang tumatagal ang usapan, napansin ni Mia—pamilyar ang ngiti, ang tingin, ang boses… para siyang humaharap sa batang siya.

“...Ikaw,” bulong ni Mia, habang nanginginig ang tinig. “Ikaw ang matagal ko nang hinahanap… ang batang ako.”

Yumakap siya sa bata. “Patawad,” bulong niya.

Ngunit ngumiti lang ang bata. “Bakit ka humihingi ng tawad, teacher? Ang galing-galing mo nga! Hangang-hanga ako sa iyo. Tuloy mo lang po ang laban.”

Napangiti si Mia, ngunit may bahid ng lungkot. “Pasensya ka na kung hindi ko natupad lahat ng pangarap natin. Hindi man naging enhinyero o nasa bangko pero guro ako ngayon. Natulungan ko ang pamilya. Kahit papaano, may naipundar. May bahay na, may kapatid na nasa kolehiyo. Kahit papaano, nakakaambag sa gastusin. May asawa na rin ako, pulis siya. Pero bihira kaming magkita. Wala pa kaming anak. Ginagawa ko ang lahat ng kaya ko.”

Tahimik ang bata. Tumitig ito sa kanya at muling nagtanong, “Okay naman pala ang buhay mo, ah. Pero… bakit parang hindi ka masaya?”

Parang may malamig na tubig na bumuhos kay Mia. Bakit nga ba?

Sa totoo lang, gusto ni Mia na sana ay mas madalas silang magkasama ng asawa niya. Gusto niya ring hindi na nakaasa ang kanyang mga magulang sa kanya sa bawat maliit na bagay. Gusto niyang makapahinga. Gusto niyang sa edad na trenta, nabigyan na rin niya ng panahon ang sarili niya. Pero hindi pa.

“Natatakot ako,” bulong niya.

“Saan po?” tanong ng bata.

“Natatakot akong magkasakit. Natatakot ako na mawala at maiwan silang walang inaasahan. Natatakot akong hindi na kayanin.”

Hinawakan ng bata ang kanyang kamay. “Teacher, proud na proud ako sa ‘yo. Wag kang matakot. Andiyan ang Diyos. Sumandal ka sa Kanya. Walang ibibigay na pasanin ang Diyos na hindi mo kakayanin. At tingnan mo nga ang sarili mo ngayon—ang ayos ng buhok mo! May bago kang bag! Ang ganda ng cellphone mo! Nakakabili ka na ng lotion, oh!”

Napatawa si Mia sa biro ng bata. Magaan. Mapagpagaan.

Maya-maya, tinawag na ang bata. Tumayo ito at nagpaalam.

“Kailangan ko na po umalis. Salamat, teacher.”

Ngumiti si Mia, bitbit ang bagong lakas, at kumaway. “Salamat din.”

Maya-maya, tumunog ang kanyang cellphone. Tumatawag ang kanyang asawa—nasa lungsod daw ito at niyaya siyang magsimba. Napangiti si Mia. Parang ang bilis ng sagot ng langit sa kanyang panalangin.

Tumayo siya, pinunasan ang kanyang luha, at muling ngumiti. 

Isa lang si Mia sa mga batang guro na kahit maraming pinapasan na problema sa personal na buhay ay patuloy na nagseserbisyo sa mga kabataan nang buong puso. Minsan iniisip niyang magtrabaho sa paaralan sa ibang bansa dahil mas malaki ang sweldo roon at mas matutulungan niya ang kaniyang pamilya, ngunit mas gusto niya ang mga batang Pilipino na uhaw sa kaalaman at mga oportunidad, kasi kung lahat nalang aalis, sino nalang ang maiiwan para sila ay maitaguyod sa tamang daan? 

Differently the Same
Written by: Jhon Woodrow M. Ramos, MD, LPT, MMHA

He’s staring at me. I can feel it. I can see it. He is staring at me. My childhood friend is staring at me—right now, at this very moment. And so I start asking myself: what happened to us?

I vividly recall all the memories we shared… all those happy times. We did so many things together—almost everything. Like Batman and Robin, we were inseparable. I loved him dearly; so much that I couldn’t imagine life without him. I saw myself in him. He was always so positive. He always smiled. He comforted me every time I felt like the world had turned its back on me. I liked the way he comforted me—he just let me talk until I got tired. He was always the listener. And the thought keeps repeating in my mind: What happened to us? What went wrong?

Those memories bring back so much. I can’t stop counting our shared moments. I just can’t. I badly want to cry right now.

We shared the same taste in clothes. We both loved sitting under the shade of that old Narra tree, with nothing to worry about. And what I loved most about him? He let me decide what we should eat and wear. My opinion always mattered. But then, things started to change. I started going to school and met a lot of new friends. We talked about our dreams. It was so nice to imagine what the future would be like for all of us. I was so excited to tell all of this to him—to Ben, my best friend.

That’s why, one afternoon when we were together, I asked Ben about his dreams. I patiently waited for him to answer. But then, he only replied with an intentionally insulting smirk. He didn’t even say a word. I started growing cold toward him, proving true that silence is the loudest cry. That was the moment I realized that we were as different as we were the same. Unlike me, he never had dreams for himself. Growing up wasn’t a thing for him. I was disappointed. I stopped seeing him. I never thought this would happen to us. But it did… and I moved on.

Years passed, and I never heard from him again. Not even once. I missed him—I really did. As time flew, I began to clearly understand that we were differently the same.

As I grab a pen and start scribbling on my notes, I feel strange. I cannot focus on studying. I know he’s staring at me. I feel it. I can see it. He is staring at me. Right now, at this very moment. Right on top of that closet—inside his teddy box, where I kept him.

With Due Respect: Please Equip Us, Trust Our Work, and Pay Us on Time

CHERYL F. OLVIDA

We teach, we prepare, we give what we can,
Holding the classroom with heart and a plan.
But forms stack like mountains that block out the sun,
So much paperwork, the learning comes undone.

The DTR’s ready—complete, signed, and true,
Yet grammar is policed as if that proves what we do.
Why must a paycheck wait on a comma or dash,
When hours were rendered, in patience and grit, not in cash?

WFH outputs are questioned, delayed,
Though lessons were posted and modules were made.
“Proof upon proof” becomes hoops we must clear,
Till zeal turns to worry, and courage to fear.

We carry low wages like stones in our pocket,
Counting the days till the bills finally knock it.
No issued laptop, no chalk to our name,
We buy our own markers—yet answer’s the same.

We print our exams with coins from our purse,
While budgets run thin and the needs only worsen.
“Go offline,” they say, “no online tests here,”
So we shoulder the ink, the paper, the fear.

Materials dwindling, the workload inflates,
We patch every gap with our personal plates.
We beg for a cable, request a repair,
And still face the question: “Is your output fair?”

Rules can guide pathways, yes—order is good;
But mercy makes sense of the misunderstood.
Leadership isn’t a stamp or a page;
It’s clearing the bottlenecks, easing the rage.

Dear heads and chairs, please look and you’ll see:
Faculty labor with deep honesty.
Let DTRs move when they’re honest and right;
Approve WFH with wisdom, not spite.

Honor the hours, the lessons, the strain,
The laptops we never received in your chain;
The chalk we keep buying, the copies we make,
The time from our families we quietly take.

Lead not with the book that can weigh us all down,
But with understanding—a leader’s true crown.
Cut needless hurdles; fix what you can;
Trust is the engine; respect is the plan.

Process on time, so salaries flow;
Equip us with tools to help students grow.
The truest of leaders are those who decide
With fairness and heart—not with ego or pride.

And we, in return, will keep lighting the room—
With patience in August, with hope in June.
Meet us with kindness; we’ll meet you with skill.
Let school be a place where goodwill is the rule.

Kindness by Design: A Teacher’s Gender Lens

By CHERYL F. OLVIDA

Dear teacher, you already carry so much. You juggle lessons, late papers, parents’ messages, and a thousand tiny decisions that no one sees. You don’t need another program piled on your desk. You need something that makes the room kinder, clearer, and more effective—without burning you out.

A gender lens is a simple way of seeing the classroom so we can teach more fairly. It is not a battle between men and women, or boys and girls. It is about equality, equity, and fairness: everyone valued the same, everyone getting the support they need, and rules that work the same for all. When teachers use a gender lens, we do not add extra work; we set up everyday routines so learning depends on effort and evidence—not on stereotypes.

In plain words, a gender lens means pausing to ask three questions: Who is being heard? Who is doing the work? Who is getting the chance to improve? These questions are gentle but powerful. They help us notice patterns we miss when we are busy: the same few voices leading, the same students doing behind-the-scenes tasks, the same learners getting feedback about personality instead of strategy. With a gender lens, we do not blame students; we adjust the design of the class so more students can succeed.

Using a gender lens is not about favoring girls over boys. It is not about shaming tradition or policing language. It is about removing barriers that stop any student—quiet or confident, shy or outspoken—from learning well. If a structure helps one group without hurting another, that is fairness in action.

Start with voice. Unplanned recitation rewards the loudest. A short think–pair–share before open discussion gives every student time to prepare a thought. Then, invite a voice we have not heard yet. Keep a small tally of who speaks and who leads. At week’s end, plan two gentle invitations for those who had fewer chances. It is simple fairness: everyone deserves practice.

Now look at group work. Without structure, roles fall into habits: some always present, some always take notes, some never touch the tools. A gender lens asks us to rotate roles—facilitator, tech or coder, presenter, scribe, and tester—so each student tries each role. We also grade a bit of the process, not only the final product. Over time, students build a balanced skill set. This is equity: everyone gets a turn to grow.

Assessment is another place to be clear. A fair classroom uses one rubric across different output modes—paper, demo, or oral defense. The criteria focus on evidence, reasoning, learning from feedback, and honest credit to sources. We give strategy-based feedback: “Your solution improved after two test cases; add a boundary test next,” instead of labels like “You’re a natural” or “You’re not good at speaking.” This reduces the effect of style and lifts the value of real work.

Discipline should be consistent and respectful. Post three short norms: No slurs. Critique ideas, not people. One mic at a time. Practice them with brief role-plays so students know what to do if someone interrupts or says something hurtful. When harm happens, guide a simple repair: name what happened, say why it hurt, state what will change, and ask if anything else is needed to make it right. Apply the same steps to everyone. This is fairness that students can feel.

Materials matter, too. When we teach with examples that show women, men, and gender-diverse people as experts and problem-solvers—without stereotypes—we tell the truth about the world. Students are more likely to persist in subjects when they can see themselves in the work. This is equality: not lowering standards, but widening who can meet them.

A gender lens also protects safety—offline and online. Teach respectful posting, how to respond as a bystander, and how to ask for help. Separate content grading from camera or background rules in online tasks to respect privacy. Make the reporting pathway visible: a QR code, a trusted adult, and a clear response time. When students feel safe, they can focus on learning.

Data helps us improve without guesswork. For two weeks, quietly track who speaks, who leads, who is interrupted, and who gets which roles. If gaps appear, make a small change: direct invitations, adjusted prompts, or role rotation. Check again soon. The goal is not perfect symmetry; the goal is to remove design frictions that block practice.

Working with families is part of the picture. Some families have strong views about roles. Meet them respectfully. Explain that rotating roles, clear rubrics, and consistent norms are tools to raise learning for all children. Invite simple ways to help at home: shared chores, shared study time, encouragement for any child to lead or build. Show that gender sensitivity is not ideology; it is good teaching.

Will this add to our burden? Done simply, it shifts the burden instead of adding to it. Clear turns mean fewer interruptions. Rotating roles mean fewer group conflicts. One rubric means fewer grading debates. Practiced norms mean less time fixing hurt and more time learning. A gender lens saves energy for the real work: helping students think, create, and grow.

To summarize: a gender lens is kindness made practical. It is the teacher’s habit of looking for hidden patterns and replacing them with simple structures that give every student a fair chance. It is not about winning against another gender; it is about everyone winning because the class is designed for equal dignity and equitable opportunity.

Rethink, Remember, Regenerate 

Joe Vincent Deluao, Ph.D.

Within four-cornered and is faceted breakfast was more than a her dreams and rooms, a  student whose passion shines brighter diamond's cut, lies. waiting for class' hour, her  aspirations; her clothes mere garments of responsibility. she must persevere, for the future.  However, how will she if these classrooms lack the comfort, order, and her house food? 

This country suffers From lot of things: National security issues. Environmental degradation,  and food scarcity- to name a few. This fiasco in the Philippines is the beginning of feedback  loop, impacting the way we take care of our future, of our youth. without security, how will  the future of our country be? If ecosystems fail, how will we strive without enough resources?  If there is no food left, as we expecting people to just die out of hunger? Those questions and  worth to ponder because if these all adds up, how will these students freely participants in  education without the worries of how tomorrow will be? 

As a learner who had experienced the air in different pomes, class-rooms, and  communalities, I attest that we all don't breath the same air. For me, I was accustomed to  not. It is all because I was that my parents make my dreams an environment where I can  thrive academically; they were well exported better than they are. with the little money and  the abundance of generosity in my life, I am able to a-time. Life is unfair, the system is one  class at to other people, many, don't have that. Not all students can comfortably study  without worrying if them would be food at their table tomorrow. And it is all perpetuated by  these issues that just keeps coming, compounding. We now have come to future is not  something to look forward to anymore. 

If the country that ought’s care of its people fail, all else fails in education does not succeed,  there would be no security, no sustainability, no politicians that would take responsibility by  heart. We would not have engineers that could build eco-friendly infrastructures and  machines. Not ever If education does not food. There would be no producers who to take  com sustain livelihood and food resources. 

Albeit, I believe that the only solution, even if scary, is to remain looking forward and beyond.  This idea of forecasting the future is nothing new, we all do it. So, the catch is - to look for a  future, in a plethora of possibilities, where we are able to continuously regenerate for cur and  the coming generation's sake. 

This regenerating futures thinking permits that me, as on country, future that we use to think  is far-fetched resilient, sustainability and supportive. The next step is to approach problems  in the status quo in causal layered analysis. For instance, it is worth asking: why is our  mother nature dying? what did we humans do? why pen sate for the damage? What are some 

doing these thing? How can we compensate to these things that we do, so that it could not  harm the environment? And the list just goes on till we targeted this issue to the core. This  causal layered analysis ensures that whatever's happening deep below that's causing all  these commotions at the surface, it must be identified and be put to an end. All this,  incorporated to our education systems. 

The clock is ticking, and it's fast. And as it does, slowly, me realizing that we and running out  of bright minds, those who will bear our future. However, we must rebuild the future  ourselves today. As long as there are willful individuals to fight these growing issues, we can  progress. It all starts with vs, in to everyone, in influencing one's perception, in sharing the  good news promoting that there is hope in regenerative future thinking. 

Let us guide our the horse that's not way out of the gloomy from cornered rooms, from a  house not a home. out of the sea of hope, and towards sustainable, and towards a secure  sustainability and regenerative future. 

Igniting Minds, Shaping Futures: The Art of Transformative Teaching in the Philippines

Connielyne B. Cuchon

In the story of our nation, education has always been one of the strongest pillars of hope. From the early days of community schools under the shade of mango trees to the bustling classrooms of today, teachers have stood as the steady hands shaping the future of the Filipino youth. They are more than instructors of lessons; they are weavers of dreams, builders of character, and torchbearers guiding generations through the complexities of life.

The Teacher as Nation-Builder: In the Philippines, where education has long been seen as a pathway out of poverty and a bridge toward opportunity, teachers carry a responsibility that extends far beyond academic instruction. They are catalysts of transformation, inspiring learners not only to master lessons in mathematics or literature but also to embrace values of resilience, compassion, and bayanihan. Their role is as vital in the crowded classrooms of public schools as it is in the quieter halls of private institutions.

Every teacher who patiently explains a concept despite limited chalk, outdated textbooks, or flickering electric fans is performing an act of quiet heroism. They embody the belief that every child—whether in an urban barangay school or a remote mountain classroom in the Cordilleras—has the right to quality education and the chance to rise above circumstance.

The Classroom as a Microcosm of the Philippines: Think of the classroom as a miniature version of our archipelago. Each learner brings a unique story: the child of a farmer rising before dawn to help in the fields, the eldest daughter of an overseas worker carrying the weight of responsibility, or the bright-eyed dreamer who hopes to be the first in the family to wear a college toga. The teacher, like a conductor, harmonizes these diverse voices, ensuring that all feel seen, valued, and capable of success.

Here, lessons become more than academic exercises. A story in Filipino literature becomes a window into identity and heritage. A science experiment connects to the cycles of rice planting and fishing that sustain our communities. A civics discussion transforms into a reflection on democracy, citizenship, and the enduring fight for justice. In such spaces, education becomes deeply rooted in the lived realities of students, allowing them to see how knowledge can directly shape their lives and communities.

Curiosity as the Heart of Learning: The Filipino student is naturally curious. You can see it in the endless “Bakit po?” questions of a Grade 1 pupil or in the thoughtful “Paano kung…?” inquiries of a high schooler. Transformative teachers know how to nurture this curiosity. They create safe spaces where mistakes are stepping stones, where a hesitant answer is met with encouragement, and where imagination is as welcome as precision.

In classrooms where curiosity is celebrated, students learn that education is not confined to textbooks. It is in the way a science lesson mirrors the typhoons that batter our islands, in the way a poem resonates with the quiet struggles of a household, in the way history reminds us of the sacrifices made for freedom. Curiosity becomes the thread that connects classroom knowledge to life outside the school gates.

Critical Thinking for a Changing Nation: The Philippines faces challenges that demand more than rote knowledge: disinformation, social inequality, environmental crises, and global competition. To prepare students for these realities, teachers must cultivate critical thinking. Rather than presenting facts as immovable truths, they encourage learners to question, compare, and evaluate. This is evident in the teacher who guides her class to analyze news articles from multiple sources, or in the mentor who asks students to debate community issues respectfully. 

Beyond the Walls of the School: Transformative teaching does not end when classes are dismissed. Teachers often extend themselves far beyond their formal duties—visiting absent students in their homes, spending personal money on supplies, or mentoring learners after school hours. In rural areas, many walk long distances across rivers and fields, carrying books and chalk as symbols of dedication. The ripple effect of their sacrifices is immeasurable. The legacy of a teacher is not etched in chalk on a blackboard; it is inscribed in the lives of the people they helped transform.

Technology and the Human Touch: The pandemic years highlighted both the promise and limitations of technology. Online platforms allowed learning to continue, but they also revealed the irreplaceable role of teachers. A gadget can deliver information, but it cannot sense a student’s quiet struggles. A recorded lecture cannot offer the same encouragement as a teacher’s smile or a simple “Kaya mo ’yan.” In the Philippine setting, where not all households have stable internet or access to gadgets, the teacher’s adaptability and compassion become even more critical. From modular learning packs delivered by tricycle to neighborhood tutorials under makeshift tents, educators proved that teaching is not about tools alone—it is about presence, persistence, and love.

Lighting the Path Forward: As our country looks toward the future, the role of teachers remains central to nation-building. They are not only conveyors of knowledge but also cultivators of hope. They remind young Filipinos that their dreams—no matter how modest or ambitious—are valid and worth pursuing.

Transformative teaching in the Philippines is ultimately about lighting fires. Not fires that consume, but those that illuminate: a flame of curiosity, a spark of confidence, a blaze of determination. These fires continue to burn long after students leave the classroom, guiding them as they face the challenges and opportunities of adulthood.

The future of our nation is being shaped quietly, daily, in classrooms across our islands. It is in the careful handwriting of a teacher correcting essays, in the laughter during group activities, in the resilience shown by both teacher and student amid difficulties. To honor teachers is to recognize that every act of teaching is an act of faith—that within every child lies a future worth shaping, and within every lesson lies the promise of a brighter Philippines.

Kapiling sa Gunita

Marjorey C. Cabigas

Mahigit walong taon nang pumanaw ang matalik kong kaibigan, isang gurong humubog sa kasanayan at kakayahan ng mga mag-aaral, ang lumisan sa mundong ibabaw nang napakaaga dahil sa isang sakit. Kahit ilang taon na ang lumipas ang kanyang alaala ay nanatili sa aking puso at isipan - malayo sa dingding ng silid-aralan. Ang pagkawala niya ay parang pagkawala ng isang bahagi ng aking pagkatao na kahit hanggang ngayon ay isinabuhay ko ang karunungang hatid niya, ang kabutihang ipinakita niya at ang pagkakaibigang ibinigay niya nang walang pag-aatubili. Hindi ito isang kwento lamang ng gurong pumanaw nang maaga kundi salamisim at multo sa aking alaala at sa mga mapalad na estudyante at gurong makadaupang-palad siya. 

Magkaklase kami noong college. Pareho kaming ambisyosa sa buhay. Pangarap namin na pareho kaming doctor at magcollab ng pananaliksik balang araw. Nauna siyang nag-enroll ng doctorate degree kasi pinatapos ko pa ang kapatid ko. Kaya lang mapagbiro ang tadhana talagq. Hindi man lang niya naisuot ang inaasam niyang toga. Hindi niya nagamit ang prefix at suffix sa pangalan niya. At hindi niya natanggap ang diploma at transcript of records niya. Hindi siya nakapagmartsa sa kanyang graduation day dahil namatay na siya. 

Masakit isipin na magkasama kaming umuwi sa aming bayang kinagisnan upang magtrabaho nang malapit sa aming pamilya ay iniwan niya ako ilang taon pa lang ang lumipas habang patapos sa kanyang doctorate degree sa Cebu. Tapos na siya sa Final Oral Defense at nag-edit na ng kanyang manuscript para magkahardbound na at makapagtapos na suot ang toga na may 3 stripes. Subalit habang inaayos niya ang mga kahingian sa pagtatapos ay bumigay ang kanyang katawan. Ang singaw niya sa bibig ay halos bumaba na sa kanyang lalamunan pagkalipas ng ilang araw ay malapit nang makarating sa kanyang tiyan. Ang kanyang balakubak ay lumilitaw kahit malinis at maalaga siya sa katawan. Dati nagtaka ako at hindi ko alam kung ano talaga ang nangyari sa kanya subalit at sinadya kong mangalap ng impormasyon kung ano ang nangyari sa kanya ay hindi ako makagalaw at hindi makapagsalita. Bumungad sa akin ang tatlong letrang hindi ko lubos maisip na mangyari sa kanya. 

Nahihiya ako sa napag-alaman ko. Pero mas nakakahiya para sa akin ang kausapin siya tungkol doon. Hinayaan kong siya ang magbukas ng kanyang dibdib sa kanyang kinahinatnan sa buhay. Hinintay ko siyang magsabi sa akin ng kanyang mga naging karanasan bago siya umuwi sa bayang kinagisnan. Biktima daw siya ng pag-ibig. Pinaibig, ginamit at iniwan sa ere. Minsan daw siyang nagmahal ng isang taong nagpositibo sa sakit na iyon. Naririndi siya subalit mahal daw niya. Ibinigay niya lahat halos maging ang mundo subalit iniwan pa rin siya para sa isang babae. Ang masaklap pumayag siyang may kahati. Umiyak siya kasi mahirap daw ang maging bakla palaging iniiwan para sa babae. 

Alam niya ang patutunguhan ng kanyang pagmamahal at ang posibilidad na magkaroon ng sakit na iyon sa itinakdang panahon sa kanya. Kaya habang wala pa at ramdam niyang malusog pa siya ay nagpakasasa siya sa mga binatilyo na kahit sino at saan na lamang. Hindi niya alintana ang magiging epekto sa kanya bilang isang iginagalang na guro sa lipunan. Hindi ko rin siya kayang pigilan, nahihiya ako baka mag-away pa kami kaya hinayaan ko na lang siya kung saan siya masaya. Iyon na nga ang dahilan ng kanyang pagkakasakit. 

Subalit sa kabila ng kanyang sakit ay nagpatuloy siya sa pagtuturo. Labas-masok na siya sa hospital at ang kanyang baga ay napuruhan na. Payat na payat na siya subalit kahit halos bumibigay na ang kanyang katawan ay lumalaban ang kanyang isipan. Umiinom lamang siya ng gamot at parang walang nangyari. Kasi PEHM major siya ay nagturo pa siya ng sayaw, nagmaster of ceremonies, nagvariety show at nagpatuloy sa kanyang pinagkaabalahan sa buhay parang normal na tao pa rin na akala mo ay walay sakit. 

Noong mga panahong nakaratay na siya sa banig ay doon niya napagtanto ang kanyang nagawa at pagsisisi nandiyan subalit wala na siyang magawa at huli na ang lahat. Ramdam niyang nalalapit na ang kanyang oras kaya naisipan niyang mangumpisal at humingi ng tawad sa kanyang pagkakamali, pagkahumaling at pagkalugmok sa isang uri ng sakit na pinandirihan ng mga tao sa lipunan. Isang uri ng sakit na ang tanging uri nila ang nangungunang magkakaroon. Isang sakit na hinuhusgahan ng mga tao ang nagkakaroon na parang ang linis nila na parang hindi nagkasala kailanman sa buhay nila. 

Nandiri ako sa kanyang sakit at sinapit subalit hindi ko kayang magalit sa kanya. Minahal niya ako sa paraang lahat ng taong magmamahal sa akin ay palagi kong hinihiling na sana ay pareho sa kanya. Hinaharap ko siya sa lahat ng taong makikilala ko. Hindi ko alam kung may magmamahal pa sa akin na parang siya. Bilang kaibigan, kasambahay at kritiko ko sa damit na isinusuot ko, sa pagluluto ko sa lahat ng pinagkakaabalahan ko sa buhay ay alam kong masaya siya para sa akin. Hindi niya ako trinatong katunggali kahit kailan. Ang taas ng tingin at tıwala niya sa akin na minsan hindi ko maarok kung totoo ba siya o loko na. Subalit ramdam ko ang suporta niya sa lahat ng naganap sa buhay ko. 

Ganunman ang naging kamatayan niya ay hindi nagbago ang pagtingin at pagmamahal ko para sa kanya – kapiling ko sa gunita. Siya pa rin ang taong nakasama kong mangarap, umuwi, magtrabaho at magmahal sa iba’t ibang anyo at uri. Anuman ang sabihin ng mga tao sa kanya wala akong pakialam kasi alam ko sa sarili kong tao lang siya at nagkamali. Kung saan man siya ngayon sigurado akong malaya na siya sa makamundong gawain at kasama na niya ang kanyang pinakamamahal na ama. Bilang guro, may mga panahong kinakalimutan natin ang ating sarili dahil sa pagmamahal natin sa ating trabaho at estudyante. Subalit kailangan din nating isipin na isa lang ang katawan natin at kapag ito ang bumigay ay wala na itong kapalit. Tandaan natin na madali lang tayong palitan sa trabaho natin. Magtrabaho para mabuhay at mabuhay para magtrabaho. © 

The Teacher in My Scars

Harvey M. Tangalin

Of all the memories from my childhood, the one that never fades is seeing my mother in front of her daycare class in our barangay. I was always with her then, a little child quietly observing as she cared for her pupils with patience and love. I think that was where it all began, that simple picture of my mother in front of her class planted the seed of my own dream to become a teacher. It may sound simple, even cliché, but that dream always felt just a little out of reach. Poverty has a way of making you believe that your dreams are too far, too high, or maybe even impossible. But I held on.

I was a working student in high school, and when I finally entered college, I found myself in a place unfamiliar—the JH Cerilles State College–Dumingag campus. It was not my dream school; it was simply the only option my parents could afford. At first, I felt devastated. Many of my classmates were heading off to prestigious universities, while I remained in what seemed like a small, province-like college. I carried a quiet envy, wondering why my path had to be different. I took Bachelor of Secondary Education major in English; I thought I was finally walking toward my dream without hurdles. But life, as it always does, tested me in ways I never expected.

  During my internship, the stage when I was supposed to focus on polishing my skills and preparing for the profession I longed for—I got pregnant. Suddenly, I was no longer just a student-teacher. I was a daughter carrying the shame of disappointing her parents, the eldest in the family who was supposed to be a model to her siblings. My parents, who worked their whole lives with the hope of giving me the best, had to endure the weight of my choices. That pain was heavy to bear.

I completed my internship. I graduated. I pursued a master’s degree and graduated once more. I took the Licensure Examination for Teachers (LET). I passed. I applied for a teaching position in the Department of Education, and I was hired. For three years, I embraced that role with pride and gratitude.

But then, another turning point came. As a young mother with still very young children, I felt the need to realign my career in a way that would not take me away from them too much. So, I made the difficult decision to leave DepEd and tried applying at my alma mater, JH Cerilles State College–Dumingag campus. I prayed hard for it, and by God’s grace, they welcomed me back, not as a student this time, but as an Instructor in the BSEd English program.

Now, as I teach in the very school that once felt foreign to me, I see my journey come full circle. I may have stumbled many times, but I never let go of my dream. And that dream, in its own time, never let go of me.

This Teachers’ Month, I share my story to honor not just myself, but to every teacher who carries unseen battles while still choosing to show up for their students. Behind every smile in the classroom are tears no one saw, and behind every lesson taught are scars that tell of survival. I remember watching an episode of Toni Talks where Toni asked, “What is your message to people who are struggling with their own scars, whether physical or internal?” The answer brought me to tears: “Your scars don’t make you ugly. They are emblems of the things you’ve triumphed over.” Those words struck something deep. For so long, I looked at my scars as reminders of failure and shame. But now, slowly, I see them differently. I slowly see that they are the proof that I endured, that I kept walking when giving up would have been easier. And maybe, just maybe, these scars are not just mine to carry but also my way of reminding others that even in brokenness, you can still be whole, and even in struggle, you can still rise.

The Sewing Machine and the Memory of a Loving Mother 

Every time I think of my mother, the first image that comes to mind is the sewing  machine. To others it may seem ordinary, just a tool used to put fabric together, but for me it  carries the weight of countless memories. Aside from the fact that my mother was a  dressmaker, that machine symbolizes so much more. It represents her strength, resilience,  creativity, and above all, her unconditional love. Each thread she stitched was more than  cloth being joined; it was an act of care, a quiet testimony of how deeply she loved her family. 

As a child, I often saw her bent over the sewing machine, hands guiding fabric with  precision and gentleness. I would sit nearby, mesmerized, watching as scraps of cloth  transformed into something beautiful. What amazed me most was how ordinary materials,  sometimes just a few yards of fabric became dresses, skirts, uniforms, and costumes that  brought joy to others. She accepted sewing orders from neighbors, earning a modest income  from the clothes she made. Whether it was a simple blouse, a neatly pressed uniform, or an  elegant dress, my mother always made each piece perfect. 

I admired the way she worked --- meticulous, focused, and graceful even in her  exhaustion. She never rushed, never cut corners. She poured herself into every stitch, as  though she was weaving parts of herself into the garments. I often caught myself staring at  her, the soft glow of the lamp highlighting her determined expression, and I knew in those  moments that I wanted to inherit her strength, even if not her skill. 

One of my most cherished memories was in sixth grade. I had been chosen to  represent Ms. Sweden during our school’s International Day celebration. For weeks, I  worried about what I would wear. But my mother, with her steady hands and boundless love,  promised me the perfect costume. She worked through the night, refusing to rest until every  detail was flawless. By morning, she presented me with the most beautiful outfit I had ever  seen. It wasn’t just a costume. It was a gift of love, a reminder that she would always do her  best to make me shine. 

Her care extended beyond special occasions. My uniforms, both in elementary and  high school, were all made by her. Later, when I graduated from college and started my first  teaching job, she sewed my office uniforms too. Those clothes were more than garments,  they were symbols of new beginnings, crafted by the same loving hands that raised me. 

What amazed me most was how my mother carried all these responsibilities without  a single word of complaint. She was a dressmaker, a homemaker, a loving wife, and above  all, a devoted mother. She balanced every role with quiet dignity, teaching me that true  strength does not need to be loud, it is shown through patience, sacrifice, and consistency. 

As the years passed, I stepped into adulthood. I became a teacher, something I had  always dreamed of. My career took me overseas, where I taught children of different  nationalities. It was a rewarding experience, but being far from home often made me long for  my family especially my mother. Each time I came back, she welcomed me with her warm  smile and often surprised me with something she had sewn, as if to remind me that no  matter how far I went, I would always be her child. 

But life is not without painful chapters. As I continued to build my life as an adult, I  faced one of the hardest realities imaginable --- my mother’s passing. Nothing could have  prepared me for that moment. Losing her felt like losing a part of myself. I knew I would never  see her seated again at her sewing machine, hear the comforting hum that once filled our  home, or watch her hands move with such passion. The silence she left behind was  deafening. 

Grief comes in waves; sometimes overwhelming, sometimes gentle, but always  present. I realized how difficult it is to live without her, especially during special occasions  and holidays. On birthdays, Christmases, and family gatherings, I would instinctively look for  her, expecting to see her bustling around, making sure everything was perfect. And every  time, the emptiness reminded me of what I had lost. 

Yet, she continues to live through the memories she left behind. Every time I see a  sewing machine whether in someone else’s house, in a store, or even just in a photograph it  reminds me of her. It reminds me of her tireless efforts to provide for our family, of her ability  to turn ordinary fabric into extraordinary creations, and of her unwavering dedication. The  hum of a sewing machine has become her eternal voice, whispering that she is still with me,  guiding me, and loving me from afar. 

Her own sewing machine is still here in our house. Though it no longer hums with life,  it remains one of our most treasured possessions. For me and my family, it is not just a  machine; it is a legacy. It stands as a reminder that we had the best mother anyone could  ever ask for, a woman whose love was sewn into every corner of our lives. 

Now, whenever I pass by that sewing machine, I do not just feel sadness. I feel gratitude.  Gratitude for the years I was able to spend with her, for the lessons she taught me, and for  the love she never failed to show. Though she is gone, through the strength, resilience, and  creativity she instilled in me, I carry her with me wherever I go. 

So, while others may see only a tool, I see something far greater. The sewing machine  will forever be a symbol of my mother’s heart, a heart that beat for her family, a heart that  stitched love into every piece of fabric, and a heart that, even in silence, continues to live  within me.

The Wisdom of Strangers: A Teacher’s Voyage Beyond the Classroom

Rosehur L. Alumbro

The sea stretched before me like a restless blue page, vast and uncertain, daring me to cross it. It was my first time to travel across the sea, and while excitement stirred in me, there was also unease. For years, my world had been confined to the walls of a classroom—chalkboards, wooden desks, and the laughter of students echoing through corridors. But now, I was stepping beyond, as a teacher seeking knowledge.

The ship that carried me was no luxury liner. It was a modest vessel, built for passage rather than comfort. When I climbed aboard, the salty air clung to my skin, and the hum of the engine echoed in my chest. My ticket bore a number, and soon I was led to a narrow room stacked with bunk beds—rows upon rows of strangers’ resting places. I had never imagined that my first journey across the sea would mean surrendering privacy, sleeping shoulder to shoulder with people I don't know.

That night, I lay on my thin mattress, the bunk creaking each time I shifted. Beside me, an old woman murmured prayers. Above me, a child whispered questions to his mother until sleep claimed him. Across from me, a young man snored softly, his hand still resting on a bag he clutched like treasure. Strangers surrounded me, yet in that closeness, I felt a strange kinship. The sea outside roared with power, but inside that room, we were bound together by the vulnerability of sleep.

When morning arrived, the classroom of the ship revealed itself. At breakfast, I shared a seat with a fisherman whose skin was weathered by the sun, his palms rough as rope. He told me of nights spent battling waves larger than houses, of hauling nets heavy with fish and sometimes with nothing at all. He spoke of his children waiting at home, their future balanced on the uncertain generosity of the sea. His story was not just his own—it was a lesson in resilience, a reminder that knowledge is often carried not in books but in calloused hands.

Later, I met a young woman traveling to pursue her studies in the city. Her voice trembled as she shared her fears—would she belong, would she endure the loneliness, would she succeed? Yet her eyes gleamed with determination. In her, I saw the faces of my own students, their eagerness tempered by uncertainty. She reminded me that education is not a simple path; it is a journey that demands sacrifice, courage, and faith.

On another bunk sat a mother with baskets woven from palm leaves. She was on her way to sell them in a distant market, hoping to earn enough to keep her children in school. Her words were soft but heavy with meaning. She taught me that behind every student is a story of sacrifice—parents who labor quietly, whose dreams are bound not to themselves but to their children’s future.

There was also a man who remained silent for most of the voyage. Only when night deepened did he share his story. He had worked abroad for decades, sending money home, missing weddings, funerals, and the ordinary days that make up a life. Now he was returning, uncertain if home would still feel like home. His voice cracked as he spoke of longing, of years spent earning but never belonging. From him, I learned that journeys often take more than they give, and that knowledge, too, is sometimes born of loss.

The sea became both backdrop and teacher. It roared, it calmed, it whispered against the hull of the ship as if urging me to listen more closely. And listen I did—not just to words, but to silences, to the sighs between stories, to the laughter that broke out despite hardship. I realized that every bunk around me was a library, each traveler a book written in flesh and memory.

As a teacher, I had always believed that my task was to impart knowledge. Yet here, in the company of strangers, I became a student again. Their stories reminded me that knowledge is not confined to printed pages. It is alive in the journeys people take, in the risks they bear, in the sacrifices they make. Education, I discovered, is not only an act of teaching but an act of listening.

When the ship finally reached the harbor, I carried with me more than the thrill of having crossed the sea. I carried the fisherman’s resilience, the student’s courage, the mother’s sacrifice, and the migrant’s longing. These were not just stories; they were lessons that no classroom could have given me.

Back in my school, as I faced my students once again, I found myself teaching differently. When I spoke of perseverance, I thought of the fisherman braving storms. When I spoke of ambition, I remembered the young woman with trembling hands but steady eyes. When I spoke of sacrifice, I saw the mother with her woven baskets. And when I spoke of longing, I recalled the man whose homecoming was tinged with uncertainty.

“I slept with strangers,” I told my students, “and I woke with stories.” They laughed at first, puzzled by my words. But as I shared the journeys I had gathered, they began to see that education is not only what happens inside a classroom. It is everywhere, in the quiet bravery of ordinary lives.

My first journey across the sea was not about seeing new places; it was about seeing people more deeply. It taught me that teachers, too, must listen—open to stories, eager for lessons, willing to learn from the most unexpected companions. The sea will always remain vast, but so too will the human heart. So, I continue to journey, both within and beyond the classroom, carrying the wisdom of strangers who once slept beside me, reminding me that the world itself is a great, unfolding lesson.

The Breakdown That Taught Me How to Get Through

The fall hit me like a big wave, and I had a hard time getting my air and finding my balance.  I couldn't stop thinking, yet none of them helped me get forward.  I wanted to calm down, but I couldn't.  Tears soon replaced any sense of tranquility, and I began to forget who I was.  I was feeling a range of emotions all at once.  The worst part was feeling like no one else could comprehend what I was going through.

I used to think that giving up or weeping meant I was weak and couldn't manage myself.  I felt bad for not being calm, especially when it seemed like everyone else had their life together.  I didn't know at the time that this moment would mark the beginning of a long and hard road to recovery.  I had to stop pretending and face the truth about my life.  That awful thing that happened to me was the most critical turning point in my life.  I found courage within myself, faced my flaws, and learnt how to stay focused even when I was at my most vulnerable.  This wasn't just the end; it was the first step toward making things better.

What Went Wrong

When everything went apart, there wasn't a big calamity.  It was so quiet that it seemed like no one else had seen it.  However, it was as if my very core was collapsing. I realized I did not need to be there. The stress, unresolved pain, and persistent fears became overwhelming. Despite appearing positive, I was exhausted. My demanding schedule left me too tired to seek support. The challenges felt insurmountable. I cried for days because I felt like I couldn't do anything. I didn't really like things when they were going well.   Too much noise can cause people to lose their individuality.

Upon giving it some thought, I realized that I had been carrying an excessive amount of weight for far too long.  I overlooked my limitations and showed people that I was capable of being strong.  I had to deal with what I'd been avoiding when the cracks showed up.  I felt out of control because of the confusion and loneliness. 

The Moment of Change

Things began to change, even if only slightly.  It wasn't a breakthrough; it was merely a different perspective.  I had to own up to my faults and realize that I hadn't been honest with myself.  Talking about how I felt made me feel like I had let myself down. 

Then, help started to come.  When a buddy observed how quiet I was, I didn't stay focused. Instead, I told them how I was feeling.  I wrote in my diary at night and let out feelings I had been holding in for a long time.  I tried to be positive and thought that going for walks every day would help me get through hard times.  These things didn't heal everything right away, but they helped me keep going.

I wasn't ready to change when I could no longer pretend everything was good.  It's crucial to acknowledge when you're mistaken and keep moving forward.  I got stronger by letting myself feel pain.  Letting go is what makes you strong, not trying to control everything.

The Breakthrough

I started the hard work of repairing myself from the inside out.  I got better faster when I stopped hiding my suffering and addressed it, just like a big corporation grows from many modest efforts.  I jotted down my thoughts and the changes I wished to make in the mornings.  Short walks helped me remember that the world is big, the air is fresh, and there are more chances than problems.

From the outside, life appeared to be unchanged; nothing had altered overnight. I noticed that people were uninterested in me because of my organizational talents. My ability to deal with difficult situations, my commitment to honesty, and my belief that being open helps you become stronger. I had no idea that failing would make me a better person by increasing my honesty, kindness, and strength. I discovered power in my vulnerability. Sometimes light can shine through the fractures in our lives. The most essential lesson wasn't only about getting healthy; it was also about acknowledging that some wounds are exceptionally tough to treat.

When I think of my deepest hurts, I feel like I'm in a maelstrom that could take me over.  The rain soaks me, my fears drown out everything else, and suddenly the lightning hits.  But after the storm, the sky is clean, and there's no evidence of what happened.  Beginning again helped me let go of previous ideas about myself and showed me how strong I can be when things get rough.

Not every interruption means a setback.  Setbacks don't always mean the end.  They sometimes bring about significant, lasting changes.  I got stronger, smarter, and more focused after going through hard times.  I still worry about life's problems, but I feel less concerned now.  You can still do well, even when things are hard.

TINIG NG PANANAMPALATAYA

ni: Garry A. Portillo II

Sa katahimikan ng dambana ako'y nakaluhod,
Lay Minister na tumugon sa tawag ng Diyos.
Kaanib sa Archdiocesan Marriage Encounter, 

Mga mag-asawa'y pinanday at pinagtibay
upang pag-ibig nila’y manatiling buhay.

Sa isang unibersidad, nagsisilbing ilaw

Guro’t gabay, humuhubog sa puso’t isipan.

Sa gitna ng mundong magulo’t magalaw,

Naghahabi ng mga pangarap na busilak,

upang sa puso, sumilang liwanag ni Kristo.

Sa radyo, tuwing Sabado ng madaling araw

Tinig ko'y mapapakinggan sa “Larga Brigada”
Hatid ay balitang may halong pag-asa.
Tinig ng katotohanan at pananampalataya,

Ako’y Kursilista, matatag, bagama’t di perpekto,
Tapat sa misyon, kahit puso’y sinusubok
Sa gitna ng pagsubok, Diyos ang gabay,
Pananampalataya’y tanggulang matibay.

Kapatid, makiisa sa aking panambitan,

Hindi ang mundo ang sukatan ng tagumpay,
Hindi rin sa salapi, papuri, ni kapangyarihan

Kundi puso sa Diyos, wagas na pagmamahal

Sa bawat paglalakbay, panalangin ang baon,

Sa pagsubok, pananampalataya’y matibay.
Maglilingkod ako, kahit walang parangal,
Pagkat gantimpala’y buhay na walang hanggan.

Kristiyano, gumising ka! huwag matulog sa aliw,
Buhay ay panawagan, di isang layaw na malilim.

Pag-ibig sa Diyos, sa kapwa at pamilya,
Kayamanang isabuhay, ipaglaban nang kusa.

Kaya’t sa radyo, unibersidad, at kumbento,
Ako’y tinig, guro, at tagasunod kay Kristo.
Di madali ang landas, ngunit may liwanag

Sa pusong bukás sa Diyos at Kanyang biyaya.

Sa Likod ng Bawat Pangarap

Mercy M. Toribio

Pagkatapos kong makatapos sa kursong Edukasyon, dala ko ang pangarap na agad makapasok sa gobyerno. Sabik akong kunin ang board exam para maging lisensyadong guro. Pero gaya ng maraming pangarap, hindi agad natupad.

Hindi ako pumasa.

Sobrang bigat sa loob. Pakiramdam ko, nagsara ang lahat ng pinto. Hindi ako makapag-apply sa pampublikong paaralan. Natanong ko ang sarili ko:
“Para saan pa itong degree ko kung hindi ko rin magagamit?”

Pero kailangan kong kumilos. Sinubukan kong mag-apply sa isang pribadong paaralan. Sa hindi ko inaasahan, sa unang submit ko pa lang ng application, tinanggap agad ako. Hindi na ako nagdalawang-isip—tinanggap ko ang trabaho. Nagsimula akong magturo, kahit wala pa akong lisensya.

Pero kahit nagtuturo na ako, may kulang pa rin. Hindi pa rin ako nakaka-move on sa sakit ng pagkatalo. Hindi pa ako handang harapin ulit ang parehong pagkabigo. Kaya imbes na bumalik sa board exam, nag-enroll ako sa master’s degree.

Gusto ko pa ring matuto.

At dahil nagtuturo ako sa private school, puwede akong magbayad ng tuition via salary deduction. Hindi mabigat sa bulsa, hindi rin mabigat sa loob. Sa hindi ko inaakalang paraan, natapos ko ang master’s degree nang tahimik at payapa ,walang pressure, walang panghuhusga, walang agam-agam.

At dumating ang kagustuhang magpatuloy—hanggang sa doctoral.
Akala ko hanggang MA lang ako. Pero heto, umabot ako sa PhD.

Habang abala ako sa mundo ng private education, dumating ang malaking pagbabagong hatid ng K–12 curriculum. Kasabay nito, nagbukas ng pinto para sa mga guro na makapagturo sa senior high school kahit wala pang lisensya. Para sa akin, ito ay tila liwanag sa madilim na daan. Hindi ko pinalampas ang pagkakataon. Buo ang loob kong nag-apply at sa ikalawang pagkakataon, muli akong tinanggap.

Doon ko muling natagpuan ang lakas ng loob na harapin ang takot at bumalik sa laban ng board exam. Halos dalawang dekada ang lumipas mula nang ako’y magtapos sa kolehiyo, ngunit sa pagkakataong ito, ibang-iba na ako. Mas matatag, mas buo, at mas malinaw ang pagkilala ko sa sarili. At sa wakas matapos ang lahat ng paghihintay, pagluha, at pagbangon, nakamit ko rin ang tagumpay: nakapasa ako.

Ngunit hindi naging madali ang pagpasok ko sa pampublikong paaralan. Sanay ako sa pagtuturo sa kolehiyo, kaya naging mabigat ang pag-aadjust sa mundo ng basic education. Iba ang takbo, iba ang pamamaraan, at tila ba ibang-iba ang mundong aking ginagalawan.

Sa kabila nito, muling umalingawngaw ang tawag ng puso, ang pagbabalik sa higher education. Buo ang loob kong nag-apply sa State University, at minsan pang ipinakita ng Diyos ang Kanyang kabutihan-sapagkat muli akong tinanggap.

Doon ko lubos na naunawaan:
May mas malalim palang plano ang Diyos.

Akala ko, tapos na ang lahat nang bumagsak ako. Pero hindi pala, iyon pa lang ang simula ng mas magandang kwento.

Sa bawat pagsubok, natutunan kong hindi pagtatapos ang pagkatalo, kundi simula ng panibagong direksyon. Napilitan akong tahakin ang ibang landas, isang landas na hindi ko inakala, ngunit siya palang magbubukas ng mas dakilang pintuan. Dinala ako sa private education, at doon muling nag-alab ang apoy ng aking pagmamahal sa pag-aaral.

Naka-masteral ako. Naka-doctoral pa.
Hanggang sa tuluyan akong nakapasok sa serbisyo ng gobyerno—sa larangang pinakamalapit sa puso ko: ang pagtuturo sa kolehiyo.

Ngayon, malinaw na malinaw sa akin ang kabutihan at karunungan ng Diyos. Akala ko noon, pagkatalo na. Ngunit sa likod ng bawat luha, bawat delay, at bawat pagkabigo, naroon pala ang Kanyang mas magandang plano.

Lahat ng nangyari ay paghahanda.
Lahat ng liko ay patnubay.
At lahat ng sugat ay naging daan tungo sa tagumpay.

Kaya’t kung ikaw man ay nasa gitna ng pagkatalo ngayon, maniwala ka—hindi pa iyon ang dulo ng iyong kwento.

Balintunay

Jay L. Escalera

Mahina ang pagpapahalaga sa sariling wika

Hindi maituturing at hindi maisasambitlang

Mayaman ang kultura ng lahing dakila

Makulay ang kultura, malalim ang diwa

Sa pagkakaiba-iba ay banaag ang ganda 

Na sayang lang ang pagbabalik-tanaw 

Maituturing na malaking balintunay kung tuturan

Mga inalay ng mga bayaning nabuhay, namatay

Ang saliw ng musika, ang sigla ng mga sayaw

Mayaman ang kulturang umaapaw sa kulay

Ang paglimot at pagdudusta sa sariling wika

Tuluyang naglalaho at unti-unting nawawala

Ang wikang sa lahi’y ganap na mapagpalaya

Ang pag-ibig sa sariling atin higit na dakila

Sana’y laging nakikintal sa isip, puso at diwa.

Ang pagkaduhagi sa mga mapang-aping dayuhan

Tuluyan nang ibinabaon sa nakaraan

Ang malaab, maliyab na pagmamahal

Namamalas ang taas-noong pagpaparangal

Sa lahing kayumanggi, wika’y pinagyaman

(basahin nang pabalik)

Anchors in the Storm: A Teacher’s Silent Battles and Transformative Grace

Writer: Frederick F. Faz

My earliest memories are painted with simple colors—days marked by modest meals, laughter shared on makeshift benches, and lessons learned not from books but from life itself. Growing up, education was both a privilege and a beacon of hope—something I watched my parents strive for despite scarcity. Their sacrifices and quiet perseverance became the foundation of my dreams.

School was both a sanctuary and a battleground. It was where I first met the people I would someday try to emulate—my teachers. They were more than just conveyors of information; they were guiding lights in an ocean of uncertainty. I saw how they went beyond their duty—offering a listening ear, a comforting touch, or a stern reminder to do better. Their care often reminded me of my parents, filling the gaps where a student’s struggles too frequently went unseen beyond the classroom walls.

Teachers are often pushed into battles that remain invisible to many. Their hardships come not only from the challenge of sharing knowledge but also from wearing many invisible hats: mentor, second parent, confidant, and sometimes the only friend a student might have on a tough day. I remember teachers who bought school supplies with their own money, who stayed late after class to give extra help, and who carried the weight of troubled students’ stories with quiet courage, offering warmth and hope when it felt scarce.

Yet, despite these hardships, many teachers respond with steadfast devotion. Sleepless nights are spent designing lessons to reach even the most withdrawn students. Weekends are filled with worry for children whose pain can’t easily be erased with more tutoring or extra classroom hours. I’ve seen teachers struggle and sometimes stumble, but I’ve also seen how they rise each morning with renewed determination. Their resilience became the measure by which I came to understand true greatness—not awarded with medals but found in hearts willing to endure for others.

As a student from humble beginnings, I didn’t stand out as the brightest or boldest, but I was always curious and grateful. Over time, teachers gently drew out parts of me I didn’t know existed—they encouraged questions, celebrated even my small successes, and taught me to learn from mistakes rather than fear them. They shared stories of hardship and how they overcame adversity, showing me that errors are not the end but the beginning of deeper understanding.

These experiences moved me deeply. They showed me that the classroom is more than a place to fill young minds—it is a sacred space where hearts are mended, and new dreams are planted. The challenges teachers face shape their compassion and fuel their perseverance. For every late night, preparing lessons, every moment worrying about a child’s well-being, and every facet of uncertainty faced with courage, there is an unmatched reward: changing lives.

Teachers make a difference far beyond the lessons they teach. They simplify complex ideas to make knowledge accessible, nurturing curiosity that sparks lifelong learning. More importantly, they build confidence in students who might struggle to see their potential. Through encouragement, they help quiet voices be heard and timid hearts take bold steps. In classrooms where respect and empathy are modeled, students learn not just facts but how to engage with the world as compassionate, resilient individuals.

A great teacher becomes a mentor and role model—someone who inspires not just academic success but personal growth. They teach skills—critical thinking, communication, teamwork—that prepare students for life beyond school. Even during tough times, teachers create safe spaces where students feel valued and understood, fostering emotional strength and perseverance.

Through unwavering dedication, teachers shape futures by sparking passions and opening doors students never imagined. A student inspired by a teacher’s enthusiasm for literature might become a writer; one encouraged in math could pursue engineering. The teacher’s impact reaches beyond grades and tests; it’s felt in every dream nurtured and every life changed.

To me, being a teacher means embracing a journey filled with both challenges and deep meaning. It means remembering my roots and giving back the kindness and patience I was shown. It involves building bridges of understanding and never underestimating the power of a kind word or a listening ear. It is a constant hope that with resilience and love, a classroom—and the world—can change for the better.

By facing hardship with courage, teachers become more than just educators; they become family, mentors, friends—anchors for those who need them most. Inspired by their sacrifices and strengthened by my own journey, I step into the role of teacher with humility, gratitude, and a firm belief in the lasting power of kindness and learning.

Keep the passion alive. Stay committed to the noble calling of teaching, continue to ignite hearts with love for the profession, and embrace the spirit of service. "Teaching, like rowing upstream, requires constant effort; if you do not advance, you will fall behind." Let this motivate everyone’s journey forward with resilience, dedication, and unwavering hope, knowing that your work shapes the future—one student at a time.

Teacher’s Prayer

by Salma “Aaleyah Nadira” M. Macarambon

O Allah, All-Knowing, Most Merciful and True,

As I guide my students, strength from You I sue.

Not just knowledge, but Taqwa, I aim to impart,

Your consciousness within, to reach each youthful heart.

Islamic principles, my teachings shall embrace,

Righteousness, compassion, in this sacred space.

Justice, love of learning, a thirst to pursue,

Knowledge leading closer, to You and Your view.

Patience grant me, Lord, for those who stray and fall,

Wisdom to comprehend, and answer every call.

Inspire them to strive, for excellence so high,

Following Your divine will, beneath Your watchful eye.

A role model I'll be, reflecting Muhammad's light,

His beautiful example, shining ever bright.

In my classroom, Quran and Sunnah's words shall ring,

Faith strengthened, character built,

joy and hope they'll bring.

Fruitful make my efforts, O Allah, I implore,

Guide my students onward, to a life evermore,

Of piety and service, to humanity's need,

All praise and thanks to You, the Lord, indeed.

Allahumma Aameen.

Hello Teacher, Kumusta? 

By: Ferlor Angel G. Rodriguez

Hello Teacher, kumusta?
Ang bigat ng pasanin, kaya pa ba? 

Araw-araw, kahit Sabado’t Linggo, walang pahinga,
kinabukasan ng kabataa’y nakatali sa ‘yong pangangalaga

Hello Teacher, kumusta?
Tinitiis mo pa ba ang init ng pasensya?

Sa pilyong estudyante, konsintidor na magulang,
At batas na kulang, sadyang kulang.

Hello Teacher, kumusta?
May gana pa bang bumangon sa umaga?
O sapilitan na lamang dahil sa pangangailangan
Na ikaw lamang ang tanging pumapasan

Hello Teacher, kumusta?
Katawan mo, na pa’no na?

Kahit pagod, kahit masakit, pilit tumatayo
Alang-alang sa kabataan, kahit magbabalat-kayo.

Hello Teacher, kumusta?
Nakakatulog pa ba, o nakakapahinga?

Sa kabila ng lahat ng mga pinagdadaanan
Sarili ay huwag kalimutang alagaan

Hello Teacher, kumusta?
Kahit pakiramdam mo’y wala nang saysay

‘Wag kalimutang sa bawat leksyon, aral at gabay

May kinabukasan kang nililikha

Hello Teacher, kumusta?

Huwag mo kalimutan sana

Ikaw ay bayani, isang inspirasyon

Binubuo mo ang pag-asa ng susunod na henerasyon

Hello Teacher, kumusta?

Alalahanin mo lagi sana

Sa mundong puno ng pangarap at alinlangan

Ikaw ang ilaw na hindi natitinag kailanman

Kaya Teacher, ‘wag kang bumitaw, patuloy ka lang
Ang pagod, sakripisyo, lahat ng paghihirap mo
Ay hindi nasasayang, may kinabukasan kang nabubuo

Isang taglay na yamang kailanma’y hindi matutumbasan.

My Guiding Light in The Dark

Cynthia M. Sanchez

Fearful, different, distant and isolated these words described my elementary grades experiences as a student. For the longest time these words marked a negative impact on my self-esteem and motivation to learn. But a different teacher came into our class and showered me with courage and wisdom to believe again in myself and realized that teachers are not tyrant but second parents.

At a young age of six, learning to read was a struggle for me, various reasons affect my comprehension skills and my academic performance as well. I used to fear teachers a lot since I had traumatic experienced with teachers who would punish students by asking them to stand in the corner if they cannot answer during discussions. Some teachers favor students because they are intelligent, relatives of their colleagues or because they are simply good-looking and talented. The average students or even those who do not excel were left without notice. I carry this trauma and since then I became more silent and fearful of studying and learning. Not to mention the bully classmates that shattered me into pieces. 

These are the silent battles that I have and for years I hide all of them believing that I was at fault since I cannot meet their standards. Studying then was gruesome for me. I hated myself for not being like them, beautiful, assertive, intelligent and confident while I was the exact opposite.

But Ma’am Lucia Matias was different from them, she was soft spoken, cheerful and most of all approachable. I can vividly recall my memories of her as she was seated next to me during our field trip. Maybe it was a coincidence that I was seated next to her and I want to believe that there is purpose to that. This incident was the start of a transformation for both of us. All throughout the trip, we had short but very meaningful conversations, she was very kind. I feel at ease with her since she eased my worries about travelling alone and calmed my nervousness.  When she noticed that I was feeling dizzy, she immediately grabbed her ointment and allowed me to use it. 

All the while I thought after the field trip, she will be distant to me but the more we became closer because come June of the next school year, she became my Class Adviser. We have more time to be together, enough for her to always ask me how I was my studies and encourage me to join programs. I often refused but she found a way to encouraged me to do so. She often uttered lines “ I know you can do it.You have potential to be who you wanted to be because you are talented and capable of everything if you believe in yourself. If you need help, we can talk after class and during my vacant time, I can teach you” These words were music to my ears, I wanted that chance to be with her.

Ma’am Lucia saw the potential in me and she believed that I have something to offer. She began calling me during discussions and encourage me to answer even if the answers were incorrect. This little acts of kindness and reassurance inspired me to believe that I am worthy and important which I think not all of my teachers made me feel. 

The confidence that I slowly gained from Ms. Matias became a beacon of light for me, the light that guides me as a journey towards finding myself as I continue with my high school in another school. When challenging times arises, I always remember her reassuring words that resonates in my mind---“I am capable, worthy and talented. I just need to believe in myself.”

Sa Kahilom: Prayer of Love and Dreams

Ma. Menie B. Cadlawon 

There are moments in life when words cannot carry the weight of the heart. Worries remain unspoken, failures press silently, and dreams seem too fragile to be told. Yet in the quiet of prayer, one discovers a language deeper than words, it is a language of surrender, hope, and faith.

In her silence, she turns to the Lord. She prays for strength not only for herself but for those she loves most dearly. Health, togetherness, and the courage to keep moving forward are the treasures she longs for. Her career remains uncertain, a map with unfinished lines, but she trusts that God will guide her feet to the right path.

Even as financial struggles weigh upon her, she dares to dream of lighter days. She imagines a time when obligations lessen, when savings grow, and when travel and laughter become part of life’s rhythm. For her, joy is not extravagant, it is a simple wish, a rightful reward for enduring the storms of everyday living.

More than comfort, however, her heart seeks purpose. She prays to be a vessel of kindness, to have enough not only for herself but to extend help to others in need. In giving, she believes, lies the truest reflection of God’s grace.

Her prayer is never loud. It is gentle, constant, and filled with faith. A whisper that carries all her burdens and dreams into God’s embrace. In that sacred silence, she finds strength, hope, and the courage to keep walking forward.

Wisdom’s Adornment

By: Aileen D. Tacbalan

A crown of glory was extolled,

Interwoven of truth, interlaced in light.

A lesson full of strength and all fair,

A crown of wisdom placed with utmost care.

A pendant glimmers around my neck.

Where lines of gold remain, etched there, love.

A father’s voice, a mother’s grace,

A guiding hand, a safe embrace.

They sing low and sweet during storms.

A truth shield, a lie veil.

They raise up my feet; they keep my path.

That dark will never eclipse the light.

For wealth may flee, and power may fail,

But the pearls of wisdom outweigh them all.

A heart to moon with truth divine,

Reflects a love forever mine.

Teachers and their Silent Battles

Nina Marie L. Pojas

Education does begin at home – the parents being the first teachers and the living room as the first classroom. But behind every student’s triumph is another guiding force whom we usually call as the “second parent.” Whatever name we give them, whether the educator, the teacher, the coach, or the rabbi, these individuals work in silence to encourage young hearts to be the best version of themselves. 

Teachers’ sacrifices are most of the time unnoticed – rarely becoming the headline of the news. There were a lot of silent battles – a mom who could not be a teacher of her own children, a father who could not be a fan loudly clapping his hand for his own son’s or daughter’s performance, and a son or daughter who could not attend to his or her sick father or mother. These happen because many times teachers were left with no option. Despite all these, they manage to wear their sweetest smiles in front of their students as if they are not in pain.  And seeing their students’ joy and little accomplishments become their happiness too. They endure the pain because they know it is life that they are teaching and not just the content.

Like a real mom, teachers being the second parent work most of the time beyond the 8-hour duty, an overtime without pay. Filipino joke says, “marry before becoming a teacher”. This makes sense because once you become a teacher, work out of passion becomes limitless leaving a little room to socialize. Socialization for teachers mean attending seminars and post-graduate school for profession growth. This if not a joyful service the option will be “get another job.”

The teachers’ task is really not as simple as counting 1-2-3 and reading A-B-C. It is a hope and inspiration  given to students who lack motivation to pursue life. It is a special and crucial task providing the students a venue to explore their full capacities and to improve themselves in becoming the change they want to see in their community.

These struggles left unseen deserve a huge hug – a recognition teachers deserve as an honor to their commitment to make a difference. Everyday has to be a Teacher’s day. Kudos, dear teachers! Thank you for not giving up.

SA BISIG NG EDUKASYON, KABATAAN AY AAHON

Nerissa Nabanalan-Behhay

Laking pasasalamat sa bisig ng edukasyon,

Pagkat buhay ng kabataan ay kanyang iaahon;

Kung sipag at tiyaga ang magiging sandigan,

Tiyak na tagumpay ang bunga ng inaasahan.

Pakaisipin ang mga katagang iniwan,

Ng ating mga ninuno na puno ng katapatan;

Itaguyod natin tungo sa maliwanag na kinabukasan,

Upang kabataan ay maging pag-asa ng bayan.

Mag-aral nang taimtim tungo sa mithing buhay,

Ang Panginoon ang gabay sa landas na tunay;

Pagkat ang Kanyang biyaya’y wagas at walang kapantay,

Sa sipag at tiwala, tagumpay ay makakamtan ng tunay.

Ituon ang isip at puso sa kinabukasan,

Bukas ay masisilayan ang tamis ng kinalabasan,

Sakripisyo’t hirap ialay alang-alang sa bayan,

Di maglalaon, aanihin ay ginto’t kasayahan.

Makinig sa magulang, sa payo’t pangaral,

Pagkat iyon ang kaloob ng ating Maykapal;

Nais nilang iwanan ang gintong pamana’t dangal,

Na sa ating buhay ay magsisilbing gabay na mahal.

Gising na, kabataan, yakapin ang edukasyon,

Pag-asa ng bayan, sa iyo ang kinabukasan;

Mahigpit mang gapos ng dusa’t kahirapan,

Kapalit niyon ay dangal at kayamanang kabanalan.

Ikaw ang bisig ng edukasyon-tutulong at aahon,

Itaguyod ang aral; ilaw sa kinabukasan;

Sapagkat ikaw ang pinagkatiwalaan ng panahon,

Bandila sayo’y iniukol ng Diyos na Makapangyarihan.

Masaya ang pamilya kung edukasyon ang una,

Malaki ang tulong nito sa pusong umaasa;

Sa pagbabago ng buhay ng bawat isa,

Laging magpasalamat sa Amang dakila.

Magkapit-bisig upang karunungan makamtan,

Henerasyong sumusunod sa yapak ng bayan;

Gabayan at ituro ang dapat na matutuhan,

Sila ang magpapatuloy sa ikauunlad ng sambayanan.

Kabataan noon, kung ihahambing sa ngayon,

Malaki ang ipinagkaiba ng kanilang panahon;

Sapakat noon ay ramdam ang hirap sa katawan,

Ngunit ngayon, malaya na, ngunit kulang sa laman.

Madaling ihambing ang dalawang salita,

Ngunit sa gawa’y kulang ang tunay na nakikita;

Pag-ibig ang dapat manaig, sapagkat ito’y tama,

Upang ang kabutihan ay mamayani sa bawat isa.

Ngunit kahit anuman ang dadanasin,

Sa hirap at dusa, edukasyon ang gamutin;

Mangarap nang mataas, hangga’t may hangarin,

Sa bisig ng karunungan, tagumpay ay tiyak na kakamtin.

Edukasyon ang susi sa tunay na tagumpay,

Nagbubukas ng landas tungo sa ligtas na buhay;

Mga mithiin ay maaabot nang walang humpay,

At pangarap sa buhay ay makakamtang tunay.

Mga pangarap, katuwang sa bawat landas,

Doon masisilayan ang gawang di kumukupas;

Mga natutuhang aral, magsisilbing lunas,

Na siyang mag-aangat sa buhay na wagas.

Sa bisig ng edukasyon, kabataan ay aahon,

Kung susuklian ng gawaing para sa kabutihan;

Mga sakripisyo’t hirap ay dapat bigyang-diin,

Upang tunay na angat sa buhay ay makamtan din. 

Tunay ngang malaki ang hatid na pagbabago,

Kung ito’y hinubog ng mahusay na plano;

Isip at puso’y sa edukasyon ay buo,

Ilaw ng pag-asa tungo sa pag-ahon na totoo.

Kaya, paalala sa kabataan ngayon,

Bigyang-halaga ang handog ng edukasyon;

Pagkat ito’y tanglaw, hatid ay direksyon,

Tungo sa buhay na may tunay na ambisyon.

 Bilang kabuuan, edukasyon ay dakilang katulungan,

Handog na biyaya ng Amang Makapangyarihan;

Kaya’t ito’y ingatan at puspusang pangalagaan,

Upang maging ilaw ng pag-asa at gabay magpakailanman.

The Chalk Dust of Dreams

EILENE B. BUGNAY

Every morning, as the sun peeks through the classroom windows, I stand before my students with only a piece of chalk and a heart full of hope. The chalk dust lingers in the air, dancing like tiny fireflies, as if whispering the stories of countless lessons that have shaped not just young minds but also my own spirit.

To the world, teaching is often seen as a profession—a noble one, yes, but just a job. Yet for us teachers, it is more than that. It is an art, a performance, and sometimes an act of faith. We paint knowledge on the canvas of eager faces, knowing that the true masterpiece may take years to show.

I have learned that teaching is not about perfection of delivery but about persistent care. Some students arrive carrying invisible burdens—poverty, doubt, silence. Others shine so brightly they light up the room. Both kinds, and everything in between, remind me that education is not about filling a pail but about lighting a fire.

When I falter, I think of the countless teachers before me, whose lessons are etched in history not just through books but in the lives they touched. Perhaps that is the real reward of teaching—that we may never fully see the harvest of what we plant, but we keep sowing anyway.

As I erase the blackboard at the end of the day, I see not the loss of words, but the promise of a fresh start. Tomorrow, there will be new chalk, new dust, new dreams to carve in the air. And so, the teacher’s work continues—endlessly, quietly, and beautifully.

Because in the end, teaching is not just about imparting knowledge. It is about becoming the chalk dust of dreams—marking lives in ways that last long after the lesson is over.

Sa Likod ng Pisara

Taos-Pusong Isinulat ni: Mr. Gid Chris Atip Malenab, LPT, PMEC™ CLSSYB

Sa likod ng pisara, may kwentong di nababasa,
Kwento ng isang guro, bayani ng masa.
Sa bawat tisa’t chalk na kanyang ginagamit,
Ay pangarap ng kabataang pilit nililikha't hinahabi.

Tuwing umaga, mulat ang matang pagod,
Bitbit ang lesson plan, baon ang pag-asa’t pagod.
Minsan kulang ang sahod, minsan delayed ang bayad,
Ngunit di ito hadlang sa kanyang paglingap.

Kasalukuyang tag-ulan, ngunit may bubong bang buo?
Kahit silid-aralan ay butas at may tagos-tulo.
“Mag-aral kayo,” wika niya sa kabataan,
Habang ang sahig ay basa, at silid ay wasak na tahanan.

Sa mga baryo, bundok, at isla ng pag-asa,
Lakad sa putikan, tawid sa bangka, kay hirap gumaan ang paa.
Pagsubok sa daan, ngunit dala’y dangal,
Ang edukasyon ay sagradong panata, hindi isang kalakal.

May mga batang walang lapis, walang papel,
Ngunit sa kanyang puso, sila’y mga bituing kay kinang at tangi sa langit.
Ipinaglalaban ang karapatan ng karunungan,
Kahit minsan siya’y nauubusan ng lakas at kasangkapan.

Naririyan ang hinaing—kulang sa suporta’t respeto,
Minsan pa’y tila nililimot ng lipunang kay gulo.
Ngunit kahit ‘di makintab ang pangalan o medalya,
Sa bawat “Ma’am” o “Sir” ng bata—may ngiting kay saya.

Isang araw, siya’y magreretiro—tahimik at simpleng pamamaalam,
Walang plake o entablado, pero puso’y puno ng tagumpay at alam.
Dahil ang guro, hindi lang nagtuturo,
Siya’y tagabuo ng bayan, tagapaghasik ng mundo.

AnCOREing on my Adversity Quotient (AQ) as an Instructional Leader

By Dr. Ann Gilyn B. Premarion, ECE, LPT, CRS

In my almost hour-long daily ride from home to school and back, my mind often drifts to meetings, students’ research work, policies, guidelines, conflicts, and even the occasional drama. Yet, at the end of the day, my heart always skips a beat as I ask myself: Did I make the right decision today? It is an invisible weight I silently carry—the burden of expectations to always choose wisely, entrusted to me not only by teachers and students but also by my own family. 

However, I have learned that leadership is not about having a perfect decision for everything. It is about resilience in the face of adversity—resilience that is anchored on the CORE dimensions of my AQ (Stoltz, 1997).

CONTROL: Holding the Reins Amidst the Storm 

The lockdown due to the pandemic disrupted our instructional flow, just like that of other schools. Remote learning, mental health concerns, and internet connectivity became daily hurdles. Teachers were overwhelmed, students were confused, and complaints came 24/7 because everything was online. I—caught in the middle—had to choose to shut them off or respond. I chose to respond. I kept my communication line open, listened deeply, and together we reimagined our approach. In that moment, I realized that control isn’t about having all the answers. It’s about being calm in chaos and guiding others through it. 

“You cannot control the wind, but you can adjust your sails.” — Unknown

That moment taught me that control isn’t about eliminating adversity, it’s about steering through it with purpose.

OWNERSHIP: Having the Courage to Say “It’s my accountability”

During the first batches of students’ research, thesis, or capstone projects brought by the new curriculum, students’ outputs fell short of expected outcomes. I could have distanced myself because I was also struggling with my dissertation. However, I chose to own the results and initiated a research capability-building workshop with the faculty members. We identified gaps, redesigned our strategies, and remain committed to continuous improvement of students’ outputs.

“Leadership is not about being in charge. It is about taking care of those in your charge.” — Simon Sinek

Owning that failure didn’t diminish my leadership; it deepened it.

REACH: Protecting What Matters Most

When I heard complaints of a faculty member with his/her direct supervisor, the tension threatened students’ learning dynamics. I stepped in—not to reprimand, but to mediate. I created space for dialogue, empathy, and resolution. Most importantly, I ensured that our students remained untouched by the discord.

“Adversity doesn’t build character. It reveals it.” — James Lane Allen

Leadership means knowing which fires to extinguish and which ones to let burn for growth. Moreover, loyalty shall be given to the profession, and respect is due to the direct supervisor. If you can no longer give that respect, then it is time to find your happy workplace to grow professionally. 

ENDURANCE: Standing firm beyond family matters.

This year I have tested every ounce of my endurance. My mother was diagnosed with BIG C, my son's left foot bone was fractured, we had a car accident, my daughter has mental health concerns, we had a land conflict to settle, I have my health issues, and of course, resource scarcity became a daily hurdle. But I held on to “All this shall pass.” The moment I logged my biometrics in school, I was “switched on” to do my leadership duties.

“Endurance is not just the ability to bear a hard thing, but to turn it into glory.” — William Barclay

Each challenge became a stepping stone—not a stumbling block. Adversity has not broken me. It has built me. As an instructional leader, I carry the weight of decision-making—not just my own and my family, but those of every teacher and student who dares to dream. And in every challenge, I find a new reason to rise.

“The greatest glory in living lies not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall.” — Nelson Mandela

I kept rising after every fall until my CORE anchored deep enough to withstand the adversities I encountered, not just as a daughter, as a mother, as a wife, but often as an instructional leader.

Ang Gintong Kabibi ni Mang Isko

Isinulat ni: Mary Jean M. Jabiñar

Sa isang maliit na isla na napalilibutan ng malawak na karagatan, naninirahan si Mang Isko, isang mangingisda na kilala sa kaniyang pagiging masipag. 

Sa kabila ng mga pagsubok sa buhay, si Mang Isko ay kilala rin sa kaniyang matamis na ngiti at mabuting puso. 

Kahit na pagod sa maghapong pangingisda, hindi nagdadalawang-isip si Mang Isko na magbigay ng bahagi ng kanyang huli sa mga pamilyang walang makain.

Kaya naman araw-araw ay lumalabas siya dala ang kanyang maliit na bangka, upang makahuli ng sapat na isda para sa kanyang pamilya at sa mga taong kaniyang tinutulungan. 

Isang araw, habang nasa karagatan si Mang Isko, ay bigla na lamang itong napabuntong-hininga habang tinitipon ang kanyang mga gamit. Matumal ang kanyang huli ngayong umaga at halos walang nakuhang isda. 

Kaya naman sa sumunod na araw, nagpasiya si Mang Isko na subukang mangisda sa dilim. Sinabi niya sa kanyang sarili, "Marahil ay mas maraming isda ang nagtatago sa kalaliman ng gabi."

Habang nasa gitna ng dagat, nakaramdam siya ng kakaibang pakiramdam. Isang liwanag ang sumalubong sa kanyang mga mata, nagmumula sa kalaliman. Sumisid siya sa dagat upang mas makita nang malinaw ang pinagmumulan ng liwanag.

Doon niya nakita ang isang hindi pangkaraniwang kabibi. Sa loob nito, kumikinang ang isang magandang perlas na may kulay ginto.

"Hindi ako makapaniwala!" bulalas ni Mang Isko. "Kay ganda!"

Dahan-dahang inilabas ni Mang Isko ang kabibi sa tubig. 

Sa pagkakahawak niya rito ay mas lalo siyang namangha. 

Naisip niyang dalhin ito sa isla upang ipakita sa mga tao. 

Sa pagbabalik niya sa baybayin, lahat ay nagtaka at humanga sa kanilang nakita. 

Kaya naman ang balita tungkol sa gintong kabibi at perlas ni Mang Isko ay mabilis na kumalat sa buong isla. 

Sa kasamaang palad, maraming mangingisda ang nainggit at nasabik.

"Siguro, mayroon din akong makikitang perlas," sabi ni Pedro, isang batang mangingisda.

"Oo nga, baka maging mayaman na tayo lahat!" dagdag ni Juan.

Habang nag-aayos ng kanilang mga lambat, si Mang Isko ay nagsabi sa kanyang mga kapwa mangingisda, “Mga kaibigan, tandaan ninyo na ang ating karagatan ay isang kayamanan na dapat nating pangalagaan”.

“At ang perlas ay biyaya mula sa dagat,” sabi niya. “Ito ay isang paalala na kahit sa pinakamadilim na bahagi ng karagatan, maaaring umusbong ang isang bagay na maganda”.

“Ngunit upang mapanatili ang kagandahang ito, kailangan nating pangalagaan ang ating karagatan, dapat nating iwasan ang mga gawaing nakakasira sa ating karagatan.”

"Natahimik ang mga mangingisda at napayuko na lamang. Sa kanilang mga puso, alam nilang tama si Mang Isko. Ang kanyang mga payo ay isang paalala sa kanila na dapat nilang pahalagahan ang kanilang karagatan at ang gintong yaman na kaakibat nito."

Makalipas ang ilang taon, ang kanilang isla ay nanatiling kilala dahil sa mga magagandang perlas na matatagpuan rito. Kaya naman ang bayan ni Mang Isko ay tinawag na "Mutya" ng mga tao na hango sa kayamanang hatid ng dagat. 

Sa kalaunan, nabago na rin ang pangalan ng isla at naging kilalang bayan ng “Motiong”. 

Gayunpaman, ang kuwento tungkol sa gintong kabibi at perlas ni Mang Isko ay nanatili sa kanilang mga puso, isang paalala ng kanilang simpleng buhay at ng mga himalang maaaring mangyari sa karagatan.

Buod:

Si Mang Isko, isang masipag na mangingisda, ay nakadiskubre ng isang napakagandang gintong perlas habang nangingisda sa gabi. Ang perlas na ito ay nagmula sa isang malaking kabibi at naglalabas ng isang napakagandang liwanag. Dinala niya ito sa kanilang maliit na isla at ipinakita sa mga tao. Dahil sa natuklasan ni Mang Isko, naging sikat ang kanilang isla sa magagandang perlas at tinawag itong "Mutya."

Ngunit sa kabila ng kayamanan na dulot ng perlas, pinaalalahanan ni Mang Isko ang mga tao na mahalagang pangalagaan ang karagatan. Sinabi niya na ang kabibi at perlas ay regalo mula sa kalikasan at dapat itong pahalagahan.

TITSER

Ni: Emeliza Blacano Tungala-Cruz

T-- TUNAY at tapat na pagmamahal sadyang di matatawarang  pagkalingang ibinibigay sa kanyang mga mag-aaral mabigyan lamang ng kalidad na  edukasyong magiging puhunan upang mapaunlad ang  bawat buhay ng mga mag-aaral

I-- INIISIP palagi kapakanan ng marami.Palaganapin ang kaalaman upang maging lunas sa minsang kamangmangan

T-- TIYAGA niya ay di matatawaran.Gabi-gabing pagpupuyat sa paggawa ng kagamitan mula sa sariling bulsa kinita mula sa sideline upang maitawid ang iba pang pangangailangan upang maitawid ang araw-araw na pamumuhay

S--SIPAG at diterminasyon ang puhunan kung nais magtagumpay palaging bilin sa lahat ng kanyang mga mag-aaral ,magsikap palagi upang makatulong sa pamilyang minamahal

E--ESTUDYANTENG nahihirapan kanyang pilit na  inaalalayan upang matutunan ang araling di maunawaan nang tumimo sa isip at matutunang tunay

R-- RESPONSIBILIDAD bilang guro ay sadyang di matatawaran .Nakaukit na sa puso at isipan maglingkod sa bayan .Bantay tuwing halalan.Isang buhay na bayani yaman ng ating bayan.

Beyond Resilience: Lessons from a Borderless Classroom

Kevin Sean S. Rada, MAEd

Camarines Sur Polytechnic Colleges

When the pandemic struck, classrooms around the world emptied overnight. Blackboard chalk gave way to muted microphones, and rows of desks dissolved into grids of faces on screens. In this shift, education did not end—it migrated, often chaotically, into the uncertain terrain of digital space. For many, this was the “borderless classroom,” a new frontier that promised freedom from walls but also revealed deeper divisions.

In Learning in a Borderless Classroom: A Phenomenological Study of Learning During Education Disruption, researcher Marlon S. Pontillas captured this tension in words that continue to resonate: “Findings revealed that despite technological limitations, students demonstrated resilience and proactive learning attitudes. However, access to digital tools and stable connectivity posed significant barriers.”

That sentence carries the weight of both triumph and tragedy. On one hand, it tells the story of students who refused to be defeated. They found ways to attend online classes with phones balanced on plastic chairs, or borrowed gadgets from siblings just to complete assignments. Their resilience, born of necessity, reflects the human spirit at its most determined. On the other hand, the same sentence acknowledges a stubborn truth: determination alone cannot bridge a broken internet connection or conjure up a laptop in a household struggling to meet daily needs.

Resilience is admirable, but it is not justice. To glorify students’ perseverance without addressing systemic inequities is to risk turning struggle into spectacle. Pontillas’ study calls educators and policymakers to see resilience as a starting point, not a solution. If learners are willing to adapt, then institutions must be equally willing to transform—by providing equitable access, flexible assessments, and culturally responsive teaching strategies.

The borderless classroom, at its best, is not only about access to information. It is also about access to identity, belonging, and expression. Students in Pontillas’ study found that multilingual approaches helped them engage more deeply and express themselves more freely. One student shared that writing in the language most comfortable to them made a “big difference” in academic performance. Here, the borderless classroom becomes not a space of loss but of possibility—where diverse voices are affirmed rather than silenced.

At the same time, the study reminds us that the digital community is fragile. Social interaction, once woven naturally into the physical classroom, must now be deliberately designed. Virtual campus squares emerge in social media groups; collaborative projects become the glue of connection. Yet these digital spaces require thoughtful guidance from educators who understand that presence online, social, cognitive, and teaching, does not happen by accident.

The lesson of the borderless classroom is clear: it is not enough to provide log-in credentials and call it access. True inclusion requires that we design learning spaces with the most vulnerable students in mind. Equity in education cannot remain a slogan; it must be built into infrastructure, policy, and pedagogy.

Resilience will always be part of the student journey, but it should never be demanded as a substitute for support. Pontillas’ study reminds us that beyond resilience lies responsibility. If students can adapt so fiercely, then the greater task falls on educators, leaders, and communities to ensure that every learner not only survives disruption but truly thrives within it.

Irreplaceable: The Enduring Role of Teachers Amid the AI Revolution

The rapid emergence of artificial intelligence (AI) has transformed many aspects of human life, including education. Students now have access to chatbots that answer queries in seconds, while automated grading systems and detailed lesson plans save teachers’ valuable time. These are just a few of the promises that AI offers. Balfour (2013) noted that automated grading systems not only save teachers time but also ensure consistent evaluation across a large number of students. As AI continues to provide quick and comprehensive answers, learners may begin to view teachers as secondary tools in the learning process. This shift is further reinforced by the rise of Intelligent Tutoring Systems (ITS), which can simulate one-on-one tutoring by offering adaptive, real-time support (VanLehn, 2011).

It is widely recognized that AI has already made significant inroads into the world of academia, raising the challenge—and concern—of potentially replacing teachers in the coming decades. From my perspective as an educator, I have observed firsthand the influence of AI on the learning environment. Nevertheless, I firmly believe that teachers, educators, mentors, and similar professions are irreplaceable agents in the learning process. This belief is grounded in the following reasons:

First, human interaction and emotional connection are crucial. Teaching is a two-way process that requires the active involvement of both the teacher and the learner for effective learning. As Baker and Siemens (2019) point out, teaching is not merely about transferring knowledge; it also involves understanding and addressing students' emotional and social needs. Recognizing students' emotional states, such as stress or frustration, and responding with empathy can only be achieved through human interaction.

Second, adaptability. Teachers modify their approaches in response to students’ input, classroom dynamics, and unanticipated challenges. They continuously assess students' learning and make adjustments to their teaching methods to suit the needs of the learners. Heffernan and Heffernan (2014) further argues that AI cannot match teachers’ adaptability and flexibility in terms of managing classroom dynamics.

Third, critical thinking and creativity. AI’s ability to generate answers to questions and respond to commands may seem promising. However, it is highly dependent of predefined algorithms operating on a set of rules and data that are programmed into them. Engaging students to raise questions and encouraging critical thinking activities using human insights are beyond AI’s ability. This is where the role of educators is emphasized as they foster critical thinking, creativity, and other higher-order thinking skills (Bialik and Fadel, 2015). 

Lastly, ethical considerations. Moral dilemmas frequently arise in the teaching and learning process, and teachers are ideally positioned to help students navigate complex ethical issues, make informed decisions, and understand societal norms. Educators are responsible not only for academic instruction but also for guiding students through the ethical and moral challenges they face both in and out of the classroom (Dogan and Ristow, 2021). Furthermore, Williamson, Molnar, & Boninger (2024) assert that while AI can optimize learning processes, ethical concerns such as data privacy, bias, and fairness remain a challenge which will require the guidance of teachers also. 

From the preceding premises, it is clear that teachers and educators play an indispensable role in facilitating students’ learning. While the presence of AI will undoubtedly impact all facets of society, it should not be viewed as a revolutionary change in the field of education. AI serves as a valuable aid to teachers, providing resources and support to enhance their effectiveness, but it cannot replace the intrinsic human elements of teaching.

Teachers are truly irreplaceable. Kudos to our educators!

References:

Baker, R. S., & Siemens, G. (2019). Human-centered AI in education: A framework for integrating 

artificial intelligence and education. Educational Psychologist, 54(2), 70-84. https://doi.org/10.1080/00461520.2019.1625887

Balfour, S. P. (2013). Assessing writing in MOOCs: automated essay scoring and calibrated peer 

review. Research & Practice in Assessment, 8, 40–48. http://files.eric.ed.gov/fulltext/EJ1062843.pdf

Bialik, M., & Fadel, C. (2015). The Future of Education: Preparing Students for a Rapidly 

Changing World. Education Futures. Retrieved from https://www.educationfutures.com

Dogan, M., & Ristow, J. (2021). The role of teachers in moral and ethical education: Navigating 

societal norms and dilemmas in the classroom. Journal of Educational Ethics and 

Philosophy, 18(2), 145-163. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.jedph.2021.01.002

Heffernan, N. T., & Heffernan, C. L. (2014). The impact of intelligent tutoring systems on student 

learning: The case of Cognitive Tutor. Journal of Educational Psychology, 106(4), 1354-

1367.

VanLehn, K. (2011). The Relative Effectiveness of Human Tutoring, Intelligent Tutoring Systems, 

and Other Tutoring Systems. Educational Psychologist, 46(4), 197-221. https://doi.org/10.1080/00461520.2011.611369

Williamson, B., Molnar, A., & Boninger, F. (2024). Time for a pause: Without effective public 

oversight, AI in schools will do more harm than good. National Education Policy Center. https://nepc.colorado.edu.

"SHE DISTANCED HERSELF TO SAVE HERSELF. SHE IS ME."
(Written by: MS. JEYCELLE E. INTING)
March 14, 2025

The words resonate, a deep hum vibrating within my very core.  

They aren't just a statement;

they're a testament to the quiet, often unseen, 

battles we wage within ourselves. 

It's a recognition of a hard-won truth: 

sometimes, the greatest act of self-love is the courageous act of creating distance.

It wasn't a selfish act, this distancing. 

It wasn't born of malice or indifference.

It was a fierce, protective instinct, 

a desperate need to preserve the fragile flame of my own spirit. 

I had allowed myself to be diminished, my boundaries trampled, my energy depleted.  

I had given so much of myself, poured myself out until I was left feeling hollow and empty.  

The distancing, then, was an act of radical self-respect.  

It was a declaration: 

"I am worthy of better. 

I deserve to be treated with kindness, with consideration, with respect."

The process wasn't easy.  

It felt like severing limbs, 

like tearing away parts of myself that were intertwined with others.  

There was guilt, of course, the nagging whisper of doubt questioning my motives.  

But beneath the guilt, 

a stronger current flowed – the current of self-preservation.  

I was learning to prioritize my own well-being, 

to recognize that I couldn't pour from an empty cup.  

I had to refill myself, 

nurture myself, 

heal myself 

before I could offer anything meaningful to others.

This journey of self-love, self-respect, and self-preservation is ongoing.  

It's a daily practice, a conscious choice to honor my own needs and boundaries.  

It's about learning to say "no" without guilt, to set limits without apology, 

to prioritize my mental and emotional health above all else.  

It's about recognizing my inherent worth, i

independent of external validation.  

And it's about understanding that distancing myself, in those moments when it was necessary, 

wasn't an act of rejection, but an act of profound SELF  LOVE.

It was a recognition that I am worthy of a life filled with peace, joy, and genuine connection – 

a life where my well-being is not a compromise, but a sacred priority.

Sa Likod ng Pisara

Sa Panulat ni : Bb. Rhea M. Sabay

Sa silid-aralan, tahimik na saksi,
Sa bawat pangarap na nais makamit.
Guro ang gabay, ilaw sa dilim,
Nagbubukas ng landas, nagbibigay ng ningning.

Sa pisara’y nakaukit, letra at bilang,
Ngunit higit pa roon, aral ay malalim.
Hindi lamang libro ang kanilang tangan,
Kundi puso’t sipag na walang hangganan.

Tinitiis ang puyat, pagod at lumbay,
Ngunit sa mukha’y ngiti ang alay.
Pagkat sa bawat batang kanilang hinuhubog,
Kinabukasang maliwanag ang kanilang tinutuhog.

Guro, Haligi ng lipunan,
Pundasyon ng bayan at kaalaman.
Kung wala sila, saan tayo dadalhin?
Buhay ay madilim, landas ay malabo’t malihim.

Maraming pagsubok, kulang ang sahod,
Ngunit patuloy pa ring naglilingkod.
Pag-ibig sa propesyon ang kanilang sandata,
At malasakit sa estudyante ang tunay na ginhawa.

O guro, kayo ang tunay na bayani,
Hindi nabibigyan ng medalya o salapi.
Ngunit sa bawat pusong inyong nahipo,
Doon nakaukit ang gintong parangal ninyo.

Called to Light the Way

Teaching was one of the professions I initially tried to avoid – not because of the compensation or the weight of its responsibilities, but because of its strong presence in my family. On my mother’s side, many of my relatives had already chosen the path of teaching, and I desired to carve out a different path for myself, free from the expectations and traditions tied to our family identity. Yet, as the Bible says, “Many are called, but few are chosen,” and looking back, I believe I am among those truly called to teach.

Teaching has always been more than a profession to me – it is a calling, a passion that gives meaning and direction to my life. I still remember back in high school, when I helped my classmates understand a math lesson and even served as a student-teacher during Teacher’s Month. The smile on their faces when they finally “got it” gave me a feeling beyond words. That simple moment showed me how fulfilling it is to guide someone on their journey of learning. 

Over the years, I have come to realize that teaching is not confined to classrooms or textbooks. It is more than standing in front of students and delivering lessons. It is about inspiring curiosity, building confidence, and reminding them that they are capable of more than they imagine. It is about touching lives in ways that may not always be visible yet are deeply felt. I have always viewed teaching as a way of shaping not only minds but also hearts. In the process, I discovered that I was not merely sharing knowledge; I was also helping others discover their own potential. 

As a teacher, I have tried to live by three guiding principles: to teach young minds with patience, to touch hearts with compassion, and to inspire students to dream bigger. These principles remind me that my role goes beyond academics. A kind word, a listening ear, or even a simple encouragement can stay with a student far longer than any test score. What I treasure most in this profession are not awards or recognition, but the small victories – when a shy student finally gains the confidence to speak up, when someone who used to struggle proudly shares their improvement, or when I hear a simple “thank you, ma’am” after class. Those moments, though ordinary, are what make every sacrifice worthwhile. 

Teaching is not about perfection. It is about showing up every day with dedication, even when it gets hard. It is about believing in every learner, even when they doubt themselves. It is about giving a part of yourself in the hope that your students will carry it forward in their own lives. Indeed, the greatest honor of being an educator is knowing that through our passion and perseverance, we become the light that guides others toward their future. And while the lessons we write on the board may fade, the lessons we write in their hearts will remain forever.

From Blueprints to Blackboard

When I first stepped into the lecture halls of Biliran Province State University (BiPSU), I wasn’t just carrying books—I was also bringing with me years of experience from the field. Before becoming an instructor in the Department of Civil Engineering, I served as an engineer in the Municipality of Macrohon, Southern Leyte Province, where I worked closely with projects that shaped communities and improved lives. The shift from project sites to classrooms was not a simple change in workplace—it was a transformation of purpose. In Macrohon, my focus was on infrastructure: roads, drainage systems, and facilities that directly supported the needs of the people. At BiPSU, however, my role expanded into something equally vital: shaping the minds of future engineers who would one day carry the same responsibility of building and sustaining communities. At first, the transition was daunting. Engineering in the field is grounded in precision, deadlines, and results that are often measured in cubic meters or kilometers of concrete and steel. Teaching, on the other hand, demands patience, creativity, and the ability to translate technical knowledge into lessons that inspire. I had to relearn how to communicate—not to contractors or municipal officials, but to eager, curious students whose futures depend on the foundation I help lay today. What makes BiPSU special is its spirit of growth and resilience. The university is not only an institution but a community wherein students, faculty, and staff are bound by a shared vision of progress. Each day, I am reminded that my role goes beyond teaching formulas and design principles. It is about mentoring young people to think critically, act responsibly, and remain grounded in service to society. Looking back, I realize that my years in Macrohon prepared me for this new chapter. The hands-on experience in local governance and engineering projects gave me the real-world perspective that I now pass on to my students. The classroom becomes richer when I can connect lessons to lived realities—from the challenges of implementing drainage systems in rural barangays to the collaborative process of planning municipal projects. As a new instructor, I see myself not only as an educator but also as a bridge—linking academic theories with practical applications. The transition from engineer to instructor has been both humbling and fulfilling. It is a journey that constantly reminds me that while buildings may stand tall for decades, the impact of education lasts for generations. And so, as I continue to walk the halls of BiPSU, I carry both a hard hat and a chalk in spirit—symbols of a career that has evolved from building structures to building lives.

Guro- Magpakatatag ka 

 ni:Reclien Tagsay

 Pitong Taon … Susuko na ba o Maghintay muna. Pangarap kong maging guro , Guro na nagtuturo sa kolehiyo .Minahal ko ang Paaralan kung saan ko binuo ang Pangarap na ito, Nuon pa man inaasam na ng aking puso na isang araw dito ako mag tratrabaho at gugulin ang mga natitirang araw sa mundo. Minahal ko ang mga naging Pangalawang magulang ko sila ang nagsilbing gabay at Liwanag sa mundo kong magulo sila ang aking mga naging guro . 

Labing siyam na  taong gulang nuong unang sabak ko sa trabaho sa Paaralang pinapanalangin ko .Kahit agad na may nag alok ng permanenting trabaho sa maynila mas Pinili ko ito dahil alam kong ito ang kaya at gusto ng puso ko. Sa loob ng pitong taon na paninilbihan marami akong naging karanasan hindi madali at hindi rin masarap.Napagtanto kong ang pagiging guro pala'y para sa mga may matatag na puso at sigurado sa pangarap na ginusto. 

“Job order, no work no pay”  minsan dalawang buwan bago dumating ang sahod pero tiniis ko . Kahit minsan Maganda ang porma at suot na animo’y kagalang galang ngunit ang kalamnan at bulsa’y naghihikaos . Paglipas ng panahon marami akong nakilala, Sila ang mga taong sa aki'y naniwala , mga taong naging kaibigan at kapamilya ko na .Ngunit hindi rin maiiwasan ang mga taong may ugaling balat kayo , gagamitin ang kapangyarihan para maging bully sa kapwa . hindi lang pala estudyante ang nakakaranas nito.May mga gurong wala naming hinangad Kundi magtrabaho para makasuporta sa pamilya at matuto ngunit may mga taong sadyang mapanukso at hindi alam ang maki kapwa tao.  Nakakalungkot isipin ngunit ito ay totoo . 

Ang iba'y kayang gumawa ng kwento na para bang gumagawa ng santo na wala namang ulo . Ang iba nama'y dahil nasa posisyon hindi na nila kayang panindigan ang kanilang mga salita. Kaya nilang pumatay ng Pangarap ng isang tao dahil nga sa sila ay maimpluwensya. Kaya nilang tumingin sa mali ng iba ngunit hindi nila kayang tignan ang sariling pakakamali nila .. yan ang katotohanang hindi ko inasahan ngunit may katotohanan. Sa pagpapatuloy ako’y hinubog na ng  Panahon at Minahal ko na ang pagtuturo.

Dedikasyon at pagmamahal sa mga estudyante ang puhunan ko kahit taon nang nalayo sa sariling lugar at sa pamilya. Tanging ang lakas ng loob at paniniwalang isang araw makakamit din ang pangarap ko at maging isang permanenteng empleyado . Hindi lang dahil sa pera , Kundi dahil na rin sa kinabukasan ng pamilya at sa mga taong umaasa na magtagumpay ako . Ang mga kapatid na pinapaaral ko, ang mga magulang na naghihintay sa anak kung kailan mananalo. Ngunit ngayong nandito na at malapit na ang pagbibigay ng hurado para sa aytem na ito ang tanong sa sarili’y Magbubunga kaya lahat ng sakripisyo o ang pangarap na ito'y tuluyan nang maglaho . Minsan ang isip ay gulong gulo at may mga panahong gusto ko nang sumuko kahit ninanais ko pang sumulat nang libro at sa pananaliksik ay matuto.Nais kong ipag patuloy ang Ministry na sinimulan ko at masungkit ang gintong pamana award sa entablado. Ngunit sa kabila ng pangniningning na ito makikita kaya nila ang hangarin ng puso ? O mananaig ang kapangyarihan ng mga maimpluwensyang tao at maniniwala sa mga endorso ng mga makapangyarihang tao . Maraming mga tanong sa isipan ang isang guro na ang tanging hangad ay manilbihan sa bayan. Ngunit isa lang ang paninindigan ko ang Panginoon ang siyang tunay na kakapitan ko , Ang ama lamang sa itaas ang nakakapagbukas at nakakapagsarado sa isang pinto . Sa kapwa ko guro na patuloy na umaasa na magkaroon ng permanenteng trabaho, Huwag mawalan ng pag-asa, Kahit minsan ma'y nagiging malabo ang mahalaga'y nagtuturo tayo ng buong puso at wala kang inaapakang ibang tao.

Wired Hearts

By: Loudie B. Suliva

I scroll through the night,
blue light on my face,
a thousand voices
in a wireless space.

They say machines can learn,
machines can feel,
but what is a dream
If it isn’t real?

I type, it answers,
I ask, it replies,
Yet behind the screen
These are my own disguised sighs.

The code is a mirror,
a rhythm, a beat,
not steel, not fire,
but a pulse in the street.

We are wired together,
flesh and machine,
dancing in data,
half-lived, half-seen.

Will we lose ourselves
in the circuits we’ve spun,
or find that the future
has only begun?

So hold your humanity,
don’t let it decay—
the tech we are building
is built of our clay.

My Teaching Journey

By: Carlyn Mae P. Avila

Teaching has been my heart’s true call,
A dream I’ve always carried, since I was small.
And when I earned my education degree,
I knew this path was where I’d stay.

I started teaching back in November 2005,
Just months after my college graduation, with new dreams alive.
My first teaching  journey began with both struggles and gains,
Yet each trial has molded me the strength that remains.

For almost 20  years, I taught the youth with care,
Each day in the classroom brought memories to share.
In both English and Filipino languages I guided their way,
And in teaching I learned, growing wiser each day.

These treasured years have taught me well, 

With stories of growth I’m proud to tell. 

Through God’s kind grace and with friends who are true, 

I’ve grown in my life and profession too.

GURO: Bayani sa Totoong Buhay

Ni. G. Jonald F. Dugo 

Isa sa mga pinakachallenging na propesyon

Sa pagtatrabaho ay may dedikasyon

Pagtitimpi sa sarili ay proteksiyon

Sa panahon ng makabagong henerasyon

Disiplinang pisikal ay bawal na

Baka masaktan ang pasaway na bata

Pagsabihan sila'y Tila ba bawal

Baka masaktan, maging emosyonal

Limang araw, walong oras, sampung buwan

Ibat ibang tungkulin dapat magampanan

Oras sa pamilya nagagamit pa kung minsan

Buhay pag-ibig nauuwi pa sa hiwalayan

Ilan lamang Ito sa mga sakripisyo mo

Ikaw ay nagtitiis sa kakarampot na sweldo

Sinumpaan mo ito, hindi ka pwede magreklamo

Serbisyong iniaalay mo nakikita kaya ng gobyerno?

May bagong pag-asa, ang career progression 

Pagkakataon ito upang umangat sa posisyon

Pero sa dami ng hinihinging kwalipikasyon

Kawawang guro posible pa yata magkadepresyon.

Napakataas ng standard sa Pilipinas

Akala mo naman ang sahod ay napakataas

Ang mga nasa posisyon ay tunay na mapalad

ikaw na nasa ibaba? Kailan Ka makauusad?

Guro Ka, Hindi guro lang.

Karapat-dapat ka! irespeto at igalang

Taghubog Ka ng mabuting kabataan

Kabataang PAG-ASA, hindi sakit sa lipunan

Salitang SALAMAT Hindi sapat

Para sa serbisyong totoo at tapat.

Guro, bayani ka sa totoong buhay

Karapat-dapat ka sa aming pagpupugay!

In God We Call, When Disaster Fall

Ronald S Lamata

When thunder roars and floods arise,

And trembling hearts watch teary skies,

We face what’s fierce, and we’re afraid,

Yet in God’s love, hope is made.

We build our dreams, but winds undo,

The strongest walls, the roofs we knew.

Still, prayers rise above the rain,

Belief survives, conquers pain.

In darkest night, we kneel and cry,

Not lost, but asking “Lord, reply.”

His word, a shelter, mercy’s balm,

Our shaking souls, held close and calm.

So when disaster storms our door,

Let faith be anchor, not the floor.

For though the world may break and fall,

We stand, because we call on God.

Time is Gold but Ages Grow Old

Ronald S Lamata

Time is gold, the elders say,

Precious seconds slip away.

Chase your dreams while clocks still chime,

Youth is fleeting, spent in time.

But ages pass, and years unfold,

Moments bright turn dusk and cold.

Wrinkles mark the lessons told:

Rich are hearts, not just the old.

So spend your gold where kindness grows,

Invest in love as season shows.

For though our ages must grow old,

The richest life is one well told.

The Reality Behind UniFAST Free Education: Understanding Its Limits

Misconceptions About ‘Libre’

Ronald S Lamata

The promise of free education through UniFAST (Unified Student Financial Assistance System for Tertiary Education) has given hope to countless students and families across the Philippines. For many, it means open doors, reduced burdens, and a brighter future. College dreams have become reachable for those who once thought higher education was only for the privileged. But despite these positive changes, there remains a challenge: many students do not fully understand the limitations that come with this “free education.”

The biggest misconception is that “free education” means everything is truly free—no more expenses, no more worries. In reality, UniFAST only covers tuition and other school fees. Expenses for textbooks, uniforms, projects, meals, boarding, transportation, and organizational activities are not part of the subsidy. Some students enroll expecting to have zero costs and find themselves frustrated or unprepared when other fees and daily needs quickly add up.

Another limitation that sometimes surprises recipients is the academic requirement attached to the scholarship. To continue enjoying the benefits of UniFAST, students must maintain a certain grade or fulfill their school’s academic policies. Some students, feeling too relaxed or entitled by “free tuition,” put less effort into their studies. Later, they struggle when told they risk losing their slot or support due to low grades or violations of school rules.

UniFAST also can’t accommodate every single student who wishes to avail of its benefits. There are limited slots per institution, and priority is often given to first-time college students, those coming from public high schools, or members of marginalized sectors. Some assume everybody automatically qualifies, only to be disappointed or confused when their application does not get approved or renewed.

The heart of the issue is the lack of understanding. Students and their families must know that UniFAST is a form of support—not a magical solution that erases all difficulties. It’s an opportunity that comes with responsibilities: to study hard, to remain informed about requirements, and to value the chance given. In the bigger picture, maximizing the benefits of UniFAST requires discipline, gratefulness, and practical planning.

UniFAST is a blessing and a milestone for Philippine education, giving hope to the less privileged and building a foundation for national progress. Yet, its value is best appreciated when students realize its limits as well as its potential. To make the most of the free education program, students should stay informed, practice responsibility, and remember: not everything is free, but what’s truly valuable is earned through effort, awareness, and gratitude.

Information is at the Palm of Our Hands

Ronald S Lamata

Today, if you want to know something—how to fix a faucet, the latest NBA scores, what your crush just tweeted—you don’t have to wait or search far. All you need is your phone. It’s wild how things have changed; my parents used to tell stories about using the library just to check one homework question. Now, I wonder if I’d ever survive without Google or YouTube in my pocket!

Having information right at our fingertips is amazing. I remember the time I needed to cook something for my family. I’d never cooked adobo before, but in seconds, I watched a video, followed the steps, and wow—dinner was saved (and yes, they survived). For students, online answers make studying less stressful. At 2 a.m., you can watch tutorials, join group chats, or email teachers if you’re stuck.

It’s not just learning; it’s also connecting. Imagine hearing about a typhoon about to hit your area—it’s not just the TV reporting anymore. You get updates from friends, group chats, or social media feeds. In a few seconds, you know what’s happening, who needs help, and what you can do. Information builds bridges, keeps us safe, and brings us closer, even when we’re far apart.

But there’s a catch, right? Sometimes, there’s just too much. You scroll through Facebook and see a hundred different opinions, news articles, and what seems like urgent updates. It gets confusing. Is this headline real, or did someone just make it up for clicks? I’ve seen people panic because of fake stories spreading online—messages that seem true but only cause fear or drama.

Then there’s that feeling of being overwhelmed. Sometimes I open my phone, meaning to just check one thing, and suddenly it’s hours later—I’ve watched three TikToks, replied to memes, and still haven’t finished what I started! It happens to all of us. Too much information can steal focus, make us anxious, and make time fly by without us noticing.

And of course, we have to be careful about what we share. Privacy matters. A quick post or comment might go further and reach more people than we expect. It’s easy to forget that someone, somewhere, could be watching, recording, or saving what we do online. Staying safe is part of the deal.

In the end, what’s important is not just having information, but knowing how to use it. Technology is powerful; it can make life easier, fun, and connected. But we have to stay sharp, think for ourselves, check our sources, and sometimes take a break from the constant flood online.

Information, after all, is in our hands; it’s up to us what we do with it. If we’re wise, caring, and careful, this digital age will serve us well—and maybe even help us finally master that adobo recipe without burning the kitchen!

Lessons that Resonate

By Jessa Mae R. Briones, MATE

In a world that’s always rushing and chasing the next big thing, the classroom is one of the few places where time slows down. It’s a space that’s often overlooked and sometimes underfunded, but it’s always full of potential. And it’s where teachers quietly help shape the future.

I didn’t become a teacher to be thanked. I became one because I believe in the power of stories, the strength of learning, and the value of second chances. Every student who walks into my classroom is more than who they are right now. I see who they can become. That’s one of the hidden parts of teaching. We guide dreams while juggling deadlines. We hold on to hope when others might not see it.

Of course, there are hard days. The kind where the work feels endless, the meetings drag on, and students seem distracted or distant. But then there are the small moments that make it all worth it. A student says, “I finally get it.” Another one says, “Thank you for believing in me.” Just like that, your energy comes back.

I remember a quiet student who barely spoke all term. I wasn’t sure I was reaching her at all. On the last day, she left a short note on my desk. No name. Just four words: “You helped me stay.” That moment reminded me that we don’t always see the impact we make. But it’s there.

This is what teaching is really about. We don’t just give lessons. We give support. We don’t just keep track of attendance. We’re part of our students’ turning points. Even when we’re tired, we show up because someone is counting on us to be there.

Teaching isn’t about fame or applause. It’s about purpose. Our biggest successes won’t always be seen or celebrated, but they’re real. Like the student who speaks up for the first time. The one who chooses kindness. Or the graduate who comes back to say, “You made a difference.”

As we celebrate National Teachers’ Month, I hope we remember that teaching is more than a job. It’s a calling. And even when it’s hard, it’s worth it.

To all the teachers out there, keep going. Keep showing up. What you do matters more than you know.

Katha…Awit! Liriko, Edukasyon, at Lipunan (Lyric, Education, and Society) 

Ni Vince Errol J. Lucas

Paraisong Tunay 

Awiting Diaspora

Bakit nga ba umalis 

Dala ay poot at galit 

Sumama sa Amihang naghihinagpis 

Lumisan at ‘di na bumalik 

Mirasol buhay sa hardin 

Uhaw sa sinag ng araw 

At nang sumapit ang gabing madilim 

Kumupas ang tingkad niyang 

Bakit nga ba umalis 

Dala ay poot at galit 

Sumama sa Amihang naghihinagpis 

Lumisan ‘di na bumalik 

Hubad na tela, bakas ng dumi 

Iniwang basahan sa sahig 

Paraisong hindi makamit 

Pag-asa ba’y sinlayo ng la—ngit?

Bakit nga ba umalis 

Dala ay poot at galit 

Sumama sa Amihang naghihinagpis 

Lumisan ‘di na bumalik…

Laban Lang

Awit ng Isang Guro

Pumapatak nanaman mga luha 

Ng nagdaang alaala 

Bakas ng nakagisnan 

‘Di na nga mababawi 

Ang dating saya at ngiti 

At ‘di puwede pang mabalikan 

Ngunit ang mga ngiti 

Tila nagsasabing 

Laban lang kahit nasasaktan 

Sa iyo ang laban, bumangon ka bumangon ka 

Bahaghari sa langit 

Tapos na ang tag-unos 

Ang araw muling maghahari 

Pag-asa’y atin ngayon 

Kahit pighati at hirap 

Tila nanunukso 

Laban lang kahit nasasaktan 

Sa iyo ang laban, bumangon ka bumangon ka 

Lumaban ka ‘di na masasaktan 

Tapos na ang laban

bumangon na bumangon na 

Bumangon na; nanalo na

Ilaw 

Awit ng Bayan para sa mga Guro

‘Di ba’t ang gandang pagmasdan  

Buhay na nakagisnan 

Paraisong ‘di masukat 

Lahat dalisay at tapat 

Iisang layunin, malabo pa rin 

Iisang hangarin, sa tuwina’y malayo na rin 

‘Di ba’t may buwan pa rin kapag gabi  

Liwanag ‘di napapawi 

Tuwina’y patuloy na magniningning  

Pag-asa ay mananatili 

Iisang layunin, ating tuparin 

Iisang hangarin, sama-sama nating abutin 

‘Di ba’t ikaw ang ilaw 

Sa buhay nilang mapanglaw 

Huwag ka sumuko ika’y lumaban  

‘Pagkat ikaw ang ilaw 

Susuko na ako pagod na pagod na ako 

Huwag kang manghina nandito ako 

Sandiga’t lakas ay kasama mo 

Susuko na ako (Huwag kang susuko!) 

Kasama mo ako (Pagod na ako!) 

Pangarap nami’y pangarap mo 

Patuloy mong ibunyag liwanag mo! 

Ako nga ang ilaw  

Sa langit ako ang araw 

Mag-aapoy sa gitna ng gabi  

Dahil ako ang ilaw

Tayo nga ang ilaw  

Ang buhay di mapapanglaw 

Magliliyab sa ano mang gabi  

Dahil tayo ang ilaw

Magliliyab sa ano mang gabi  

Dahil…tayo ang…ilaw

Alon

Awit ng Pag-asa

Pawiin ang galit sa iyong mukha

Sinisisi ang langit na parang sinumpa

Mga labi at puso’y hirap mapasaya

Ang araw ay sisikat na

Punasan ang luha sa iyong mata

Kapit-bisig, dalangin aybagongumaga

Mga awit at wika dala ay pag-asa

Halina at bumangon na

Umahon na, bumangon na

Haharapin ang alon sa paglalayag

O bayan ko, umahon na

May hanging dala ang ating pangarap

Ang ating problema, ngayo’y hinaharap

Ating lipi’t pag-asa ngayon ay iisa

Tayong lahat ang simula

Aahon na, babangon na

Aalon na sa daluyan ng pag-asa

Ang bayan ay aahon na

Alon na, ahon na, 

Bangon na, laban na…

Ang bayan ay lalaban na