My heroes
I believe that all of us appreciate the role of teachers, because they have been or are still part of our lives. But how many of us truly hold them in deep respect? I, for one, didn’t have such sincere appreciation for them until I experienced teaching a classroom full of little kids myself.
Once, after 30 minutes of repeating phonetic sounds and making very little impression, I was brought back to the time when I was a grade school pupil. It dawned on me that teaching kids was really not a picnic.
In retrospect, I am amazed at how my teacher in Grade 2 made our very young minds understand that we had to change “y” to “i” and add “es” to some words to make them plural. I shook my head in disbelief at my fourth grade teacher’s ability to persuade us to memorize and help us comprehend the complete list of subject-verb agreement rules that would become so useful in high school, college and beyond. The word “mimicry” will forever be etched in my memory since I learned in Grade 5 that it is one of the protective adaptations used by some animals. And how can I ever forget my teacher who explained to his awkward sixth graders the stage of puberty? I can still remember my seatmate who asked me what “public hair” was. I whispered back that the word was “pubic” and that I thought it was hair that would eventually grow on you-know-where. We both blushed.
Ah, memories of the good, old days in school! That was a time when sweat trickled down our foreheads during flag ceremony, a time when we could experience the distinct smell of pencil and eraser in every classroom, a time when the ringing of the bell told us it was time for recess. Such memories never fail to make one feel nostalgic.
But how can we ever forget our alertness and sense of anticipation about saying, “Present, ma’am!” every morning during roll call, the constant reminder to capitalize the first letter of every sentence and place an appropriate punctuation mark at the end, or the stern look we got every time we attempted to glance sideways during quizzes?
Remembering all these helped me greatly as I grew up and continue to do so as I practice my profession. These experiences inculcated in me the essence of integrity and honesty. They helped me develop the ability to give undivided attention and listen carefully when somebody is speaking. They drove me to strive for excellence and perfection every time I do my work.
My dear grade school teachers, you don’t know how much we owe you. You don’t know how much difference you have made in our lives. You laid strong foundations for our education, although during those times we didn’t really care how much effort you put in because we were too busy with our Chinese garters and marbles. Now let me thank you for going the extra mile when we were still in your classes. Thank you for the persistence in correcting us when we said “tha” apple and not “the” apple. Thank you for drawing hundreds of tiny tennis balls on the green board to help us learn addition and subtraction. Thank you for constantly reminding us to say “please” and “thank you” every time we forgot. You are our unsung heroes.
We can never repay our teachers for their dedication and hard work. But one of the greatest things we can do for them is to emulate the examples they have set and pass on to the younger generation the goodness and lessons we have learned from them.
Cherrie Mae Aguila, 25, is a missionary English teacher in Jeongeup City, South Korea.
Big Annie
By Arlene M. Resano
My English teacher just quit teaching grammar and world literature.
One memory of her that I will never forget was when she introduced herself in our journalism class. Teachers then would simply say their names, but she told us that her name was Anecita Trasmonte Altis, which when translated to English meant “Little Annie across the mountain (at) high speed.”
Before I enrolled in her class, I really didn’t know her. Once in a while I would see her walking briskly as if she was dancing, with her butt out or hear her laugh through that big mouth of hers, but none of these encounters were enough for me to know her.
She became my teacher for two years. In journalism classes, she taught me how to write news properly and how to advertise imaginary products. (To this day, I will admit feeling bad that she rejected my proposed teaser for our school’s 12th Foundation Day which had the tag line “Gusto mo bang makatikim ng dose anyos?”) In English she raised hell by discussing Dante’s “Inferno” canto by canto, and told me to my face how poor I was compared to Job when she asked our class to enumerate how many animals he had.
After I finished high school, I heard that she was suffering from cancer. When I saw her a year later, I was dumbfounded when I saw her still laughing heartily as if there was nothing wrong with her, even if a piece of cloth on her head cried out, “I just had chemo.”
I asked her how she was doing and, smiling as if she owned half of Job’s assets, she said: “I’m better.”
Upon reading the article she wrote sharing her life as a cancer patient, I saw the difficulties she had to go through. In my pathology classes, I learned the pathology, grading and naming of cancer but little did I know of the dilemmas brought about by the condition. Had I not read Ma’am Annie’s story, years from now I would be a physician who simply cares about curing the patient without going through the healing process with them, physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually. Thanks to her inspiring story, now I have a greater motivation to be a doctor, and not the “hands-on” type but the “heart-on” type of doctor.
After reading her story, I knew that Anecita Trasmonte
Altis is no longer Little Annie crossing the mountain swiftly. Rather, she is Big Annie who has crossed life’s many mountains at high speed. Other people see cancer as the end of their lives, but Ma’am Annie sees it as an opportunity to share what she’s going through in order to help educate other people. My respect and admiration for her have grown bigger. She shows us that science, which helps cure physically, and faith, which nourishes spiritually, should go together and bring out the best in every individual.
My English teacher quit teaching grammar and world literature. But she is still teaching another subject called Inspiration 101.
Arlene M. Resano, 21, is a first year student at Iloilo Doctors’ College of Medicine.
