All In A Day's Work

Whenever my dark materialistic dopelganger threatens to get the better of me, all I have to do is look at the children around me and I feel all warm and content in the knowledge that I am safely where I am supposed to be, at this particular stage in my life. :)

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Everyone has "off" days... when your coffee turns out poorly, when your uniform feels like it shrank two sizes due to an extra serving of dessert the previous evening... when nothing seems to be going the way it should be.

But then there are those days when you feel the worth... no, the BEAUTY of what you're doing, of what you're part of.

I had one such a day last week. :)

True, the start of the day was not an auspicious one. Two high school boys got into a fisticuff bout, I had to step in and physically separate them. Thankfully, I got to do it before either got more than minor bruises. My Asian Civ.class time was eaten up by the consequential investigation and sorting out by the principal. My heart ached for the two boys.

Then, during my Grade 2 Music class, one of my little girls fainted! Luckily she was a slender, tiny thing. She fell slowly and gracefully, like an elven princess, so we were able to catch her before she hit her head on the floor. I thanked the Heavens for my macho, unfeminine arms as I carried her slight frame to the infirmary. (Turned out she had chicken for lunch and suffered an allergic reaction. Thankfully, she's fine now)

All these sources of additional stress, aside from the usual stress brought about by my normal work load, disappeared in the face of a beautiful twenty minutes worth of Playground Duty.

All of the teachers in RMM have Playground Duty. We go out, rain or shine, and stand guard over the little children as they run around, a preventive approach to accidents... guardian angels in uniform, except without haloes and wings. :)

Two little boys (let's call them S and D) from my CASA (kindergarten) class have been my "teachers in patience" these past several weeks. They run around and refuse to stand still for one minute, no matter how often they're told, and as I try not to use my voice any more than is necessary, I often resort to running after them instead of shouting at them. They've been helping me practice my "patience muscle," as a wise friend put it.

Anyway, S and D were fascinated by a chess game they observed between some fourth graders. S ran up to me and said, "Teacher Gabi, gusto ko mag-chess!"

"Bakit? Marunong ka na ba?" I asked, to which he confidently replied, "Oo!"

So I guided him to the office, and showed him where to sign his name in the Chess Set Log Book and how to write the time and the number of the chess board. I had a suspicion that he didn't really know how to play, and I was right. But I was more than happy to teach S, and his other naughty playmate D.

They were so absorbed in the chess lesson, they didn't run nor skip the whole playtime before class, and came in the room with dry shirts (a near miracle! Especially with such energetic boys like S and D).

I have seen fewer more beautiful sights than that of two little boys, with their faces rapt in attention, while older children gathered around them and took over my role as chess instructor. Some sixth graders came along, and two of them appointed themselves as the little ones' teachers. "Turuan mo si S! Ako magtuturo kay D!" said one sixth grade girl excitedly.

Hmmm... maybe one of them will grow up to be the next Filipino grandmaster! :)

For the next two days, S and D barged in the office as soon as they got off the school bus, and borrowed a chess set. And I'm willing to bet this will go on for a long time. It seems a fire has been lit. And who says that 5 years old is too young to start learning how to play chess? ;)

All in a day's work. I can't wait to be witness to more fires being lit next week, to bear witness to the blossoming of a thirst for knowledge that is every educator's dream to inspire in one's students. :)

There will be more off days, but with golden moments like these to hold on to, how can one ever tire of teaching?