A dignified life
Just recently, I received private messages from my former students asking for advice. They’re torn between their choice and their parents’ choice of the course they must take in college. They want to become teachers, but their parents don’t want them to take Education because, apparently, being a teacher in this country would not give them a good life. A luxurious one, I assume.
I was saddened learning of my students’ predicament. Until now, this notion about teaching and our society’s perennial perception and gauge toward success remains the same. It has always been focused on money, fame, houses, cars, and more cars, and that a simple public school teacher cannot earn no matter how hard he/she works.
I do understand the parents’ concern for their children’s future. Of course, they would like to make sure that their children would have a good life. And by good life, this means not experiencing the poverty and hardships they had probably been through.
But sometimes it’s the children’s well-being, happiness, and, ironically, their own futures that are compromised. Those who don’t like their course tend to waste time course-hopping and perform poorly in academics. By the time they graduate, it’s either they seek a job that doesn’t match their course or become mediocre in their profession. Or, the most unfortunate of all, they don’t graduate at all.
I took Secondary Education in Cavite State University. I’d often receive comments like, “Ah titser? Bakit ‘di ka nag-(insert a job that guarantees a high salary)?” I’d often reply with a smile: “Gusto ko pong magturo!”
I didn’t explain that I wasn’t numerically intelligent, so Engineering and Accountancy were out of my skill-set. I had a weak body and feeble immune system, so I wouldn’t last long in Criminology. But I was good at Language and History. So I decided to be a teacher, aside from being inspired by my mother who’s also a teacher, and my high school teachers. I didn’t explain all that, because I knew they wouldn’t listen.
I could have been an actor or a model, but it’s not really what I wanted to do. So I just shrugged off all the comments, and continued studying. They wouldn’t understand that it’s not about the salary (I don’t care whether I’m romanticizing it), but about doing what makes us happy, the one thing that we love the most, and serving our purpose in life.
My mantra has been this: “I’m doing what I love and being compensated for it. I get to enjoy time with my friends and family. I help my students realize their potentials and be a part of their success.” These are enough. These are enough wealth and for my own definition of success.
Our life isn’t grand. We have to live within our means, and there are times we have to work real hard just to get what we want and need. But we’re fine. We’re thriving. We’re happy despite life’s challenges and uncertainties. Most importantly, we’re living with dignity. We have to earn everything. Nothing is given. This is what other people often forget and lose in pursuit of a luxurious life—living a dignified life.
I believe no matter how we hustle to get something, be it fame, money, fancy cars, expensive houses, famous places, and other extravagances in life, we can never be fully satisfied. We have this insatiable desire and greed that we can never really fill unless we start appreciating what we have and be genuinely happy for every blessing.
In my case, I just want a frugal and meaningful life. I may not get everything. Maybe what I have is not that much, but knowing that I got them through hard work and labor, without cheating and hurting a fellow human being—I guess it’s true that “A hard-earned centavo will always be greater than a stolen peso.”
I am maybe just a simple public school teacher who earns meagerly, but I can proudly say that I love what I’m doing and that my job is an honest job. And not only is it decent, it’s also the noblest among all the professions because it epitomizes true public service: “Giving oneself for the benefit of others—our students.”
I gave my students some choices and the possible consequences of each choice. “This is what adulting is all about, taking choices. Making decisions that would impact not just your present but also your future,” I told them.
“But,” I added, “you’re lucky because you get to have options when some don’t.”
I hope they realize that, someday, when they start their own families, they have the chance to end this cycle. They can let their children just be themselves and allow them to do what would make them happy—and that’s more than having a good life.
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Allan L. Navida, 26, is a public senior high school teacher in Cavite.
