In my dauntless years, I swore to myself that I should never let my passion become a slave to money. For one, I have always believed that my talents, while truly being potential sources of income, should dominantly be my source of happiness. Or better yet, the people around me. However, there’s always a first time for everything and my piano will never forget how I felt when I got my first fee through “tugtog-pera.”
I was a stay-at-home musician at 15 who was satisfied playing music alone and making my mom dance by playing “Dahil Sa’yo” by Iñigo Pascual at that time. To me, her acknowledgment was the greatest prize because it meant that my talent was special. Things spiced up a little bit, however, when I was called to play for a band. I turned down the offer, obviously, saying I did not know the songs, but they insisted that I should go. Long story short, I sucked at my first gig. I was neither satisfied nor happy with my performance and God knows how many times I said sorry to my bandmates for messing up—only for them to give me my “well-earned” talent fee.
That time, I felt undeserving, but I was thrilled to experience receiving money. That’s also the time when I learned of the concept tugtog-pera, the idea that some people don’t care whether you’re skilled or passionate. All that matters is that you’re playing their requested song, and boom, you’re paid. That was when I was 18, the first time I got paid and since then, the cycle has continued.
While all that was good, I am struggling to rationalize whether this is a mindset that should be forgiven or foregone at my scene as a professional. As someone who happened to step early into the professional realm, I am asking myself: “Is tugtog-pera justifiable for me, a passionate individual?” In other words, I would compromise the level of passion I exert on things I am passionate about while receiving paycheck after paycheck. If there is something that I learned as a young professional, extra effort secures the job you want for a year, but won’t pay you the amount of money you need for the day. Simply put, it is useless in the face of need. You do not get paid for early time-ins and overtime pays aren’t a thing for most establishments. Submitting papers on time won’t get you paid despite its quality and submitting them late could lead to reprimands and salary deductions. All of these are just enough to make me resort to tugtog-pera where staying in the middle will get you paid, regardless.
Aside from music, I have another passion: teaching. I am working in a private school—you know how compensations are over here. Unfortunately, for the younger me, I accepted the fact that happiness and money can go hand in hand. Despite that, I know that he’s proud that I am enjoying it.
My love for teaching has been ignited and I am happy that I am pursuing my passion. I am happy looking at my students learn and enjoy my lessons. I am happy looking at them grow. I am happy because I am learning and I can equip myself with better skills before going to bigger leagues like the Department of Education (DepEd) or overseas. But all that happiness fades once I get back from school because I suddenly remember that I am putting so much effort into things despite struggling financially.
In the middle of those things, I resort to thinking about tugtog-pera and how it could not only benefit me but the people around me. I wonder—should I dive into DepEd without enough experience? Should I take the leap without fully preparing myself? Sometimes, desperation leads me to think, “Public school kids won’t care much about who’s teaching them; they’ll be content as long as the teacher can relate to them.” Much like in tugtog-pera, it’s easy to believe that effort doesn’t matter as long as the job gets done, and the pay follows. Right now, I just hope that it won’t reach a point where I’d think that it is fine if I don’t put energy and passion into my lessons because I’d be paid anyway. I am a financially unstable teacher, but I’ll never allow myself to become a mediocre teacher.
In my mind, I know that those thoughts are unbecoming of a teacher. But I need to live as well. Some can say, “If you think of something like that, then maybe you are not as passionate as you think you are.” For me, being passionate has its limits. One can be passionate at one point and then outgrow it, and it’s normal, especially if you’re in a pinch. But in my case, I am doing all that I can to keep this passion.
Oh, how I wish I could go back to those simpler times when passion meant more than money. But as life moves forward, I’ve learned that sometimes, finding balance is the greatest achievement of all.
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Keith Russell A. Gacho, 23, is from Paoay, Ilocos Norte.