Most people admit to being tempted to wear a cape. When someone is in distress—and there’s always someone in distress—a hero, an expert, is summoned for the rescue. And to this, I often find myself yielding.
The temptation to wear a cape and play the hero is something a teacher like me finds hard to resist. Perhaps it is because it bestows such an enticing promise—a promise of significance, importance, power, security in worth, and indispensability. I see a lot of “the poor and the outcasts” among my students. Being their teacher makes me believe I am already wearing the cape. You see, my heroic impulses are most often born from the best of intentions. I just want to help. Yet this is the illusion of specialness, that I am the only one that can offer help, that if I don’t do it, nobody else will.
I took Alessa home with me after I heard her story. She lost her parents at a very young age and needed some care. I was eager to rescue her. I thought of taking the place of her parents. I played the hero.
Then there was Jim, a very smart boy who wanted so much to be in school. But no one felt responsible to help him with his dream. He watered his other teacher’s garden and tended a piggery during weekends so he could earn some amount for his education. I came to the rescue and paid for his tuition. I am the hero.
John is one pathetic genius. He is barely out of his teens but he thinks double his age. His dad is a stern man who would spew deadly speech, wounding the spirit of his children. John’s curved posture showed the image of his self-esteem. I rushed out and saved him, the hero that I am.
Then Crisdel came, and Alvin, and Heidi—all with sad stories who, through the help of that person in a cape, would end up happily ever after… supposedly.
The rescued demanded more of my time, money and energy. The problems came one after the other, but heroes, to be worthy of the calling, do not give up easily. I held on to the belief that if I just worked harder and put in more hours, I’d fix things, that if I just became smarter or learned a new technique, I’d be able to solve their problems.
So I took on more and more projects and causes, and had less time for my family and the activities that nourished me. My grip was so strong on the hero’s creed that it was up to me to save the situation, the person, the world. To my chagrin, I discovered that this hero’s path has only one guaranteed destination: I ended up feeling lonely, exhausted, and unappreciated. My hopes and expectations only served to make people dependent and passive. My students got rescued for a time, and so the next time they were in trouble, they’d come looking for the expert, now the villain.
Heroes are supposed to rescue people, not take away their identity and freedom. How to rescue and to equip them with knowledge on how to engage their hearts and minds to solve their own problems? The hero empowers people and enlightens them so that they’d realize that they have the solution to their own problems and that they’re responsible for carrying it out..
Upon realizing this, I had to leave my post. It was then that I noticed that I am not alone. Alessa, Jim, John, Crisdel, Alvin and Heidi are among the many who are just like me. They also want to contribute, they also have ideas, they want to be useful to others and solve their own problems.
Still, the deception prevails. Somewhere, there’s someone who will fix everything. Somewhere, there’s a strong leader who will lead people out of the mess they’re in. Somewhere, there’s someone who’s visionary, charismatic, brilliant, and people happily follow him or her.
Now wait a minute, I hear a cry of distress. It’s Rose in the back row. She’s in deep trouble. Somewhere here is where I tossed my cape…
Ruth E. Ortega, 29, is a college teacher in a private school in Oriental Mindoro.