Change the world—if you can

I once believed I could change the world.

That is, until one ordinary night when aimless dinner table chatter with the family turned into one of those “Where are they now?” conversations, sort of a documentary-style slash-blabber fest, talking with our mouths full. Any die-hard fan of table etiquette would’ve fainted as we went over our talk-a-thon about the now-professional lives of the former editor in chiefs of our university paper. You see my sister and I once stood or, more appropriately, sat at the helm of the same paper back in college, and interestingly, all our predecessors went into teaching.

They graduated with different degrees, but all of them ended up teaching—some in high school, others in college, all teachers. I guess when you get used to all the ups and downs of being a student, mostly the downs, it kind of encourages you to change the way things go. I would like to say “improve” on the way things go. But I can only assume that all of those former editor in chiefs went into teaching to “show them how it’s done.”

My sister named them one by one, saying after every name, “Nagtuturo pa din siya, ano?” with a voice half-amused, half-confused as to why they chose teaching. At that point, the thought crossed my mind that “I once believed I could change the world… through teaching—my teaching.” I could have said it out loud, all I could do was to look at her with an awkward smile. I cannot tell you the exact reason why I held back. Was it pride? Sadness? Shame?

I once believed I could change the world.

I really did.

For some time, I was a teacher too… and that is just it, isn’t it? I was. My days now are spent at home, writing, reading, baking, updating my book reviews on my blog, or maybe posting something random about our dogs eating plants, my father stealing our neighbor’s ube, or about some food I ate somewhere that I was sure had LSD in it. These things can all be interesting… but, I’m not teaching anymore.

Once my other sister came home late and she found me in front of the laptop, watching Jamie Oliver’s 30-minute meals that my boyfriend had downloaded online. The first thing my sister said was, “Nakasabay ko sa jeep yung estudyante mo, ah.” I crossed my brows, wondering what the heck was she talking about, and then in a fraction of a second, I remembered… Oh, right, I was a teacher. My sister went on to say that my former student was a senior in college now, and he talked mostly about me, and how he sorely regrets it that I was not teaching anymore. “Sayang” was how my former student put it. I only smiled in response as my sister passed the word of a former student on to a former teacher.

I once believed I could change the world.

It seemed so simple then. After taking my first degree and waiting for the results of the board exam, I went back to school and took up professional education subjects… so I could be a teacher. I wanted to be a teacher, and a good one at that—not for the money or anything, because teaching in college can be good in terms of pay—and for a good while I thought I was doing the right thing and found my place—a place where time flies by without me noticing it, a place where I could stick my neck deep in work and be insanely happy about it. After getting my certificate in teaching, I got a teaching job and I remember thinking, “This is it. It’s time to show them how it’s done.”

But I was naïve then. I thought it was enough to do your job and do it well. I thought if you did not mean harm to others, they would not harm you. I thought if you had good intentions people would not stab you at the back. It was all so simple and I had it all figured inside my head. I’d go to school, greet my students, squeeze every ounce of brilliance off my teaching bone, the students will add a few ounces to their brain, and we’ll call it a day. It was utterly, utterly simple.

But who was I kidding? This was real life, not paradise. I was tempted to say kindergarten, but then I remembered how kindergarteners can be so mean on the sandbox, so let us just stick to paradise. Nothing is as simple as that and there were shady people around who had insane thoughts on getting ahead. You can call it whatever you want to call it, but I just knew then I was out of place, even though I found teaching a source of joy.

I once believed I could change the world.

With teaching—my teaching.  I want to tell you that it was not my fault that I now speak of my teaching in past tense, but I just can’t do  it. For a time I thought I was the victim here—of unfairness, of bullying and of every horrible thing you can think of… but that is not true. In time, I realized I had my share of faults too, like how I was narrow-minded, idealistic and unyielding, refusing to go with the flow. I had principles I was not ready to sacrifice, and I had no intention of taking part in a culture I did not believe in. It is not really clear to me to what degree these things could be a person’s fault but, somehow, I knew I was part of the problem too.

I once believed I could change the world.

…And I know there was a handful who thought I could, and would, with teaching—my teaching—but after only a year of smiles and tears, I decided to break up with teaching. I want to use the word “quit,” but when you quit you do not get heartbroken, do you?

It has been a while since then, and I feel like a totally different person now. I cannot even imagine myself teaching back then or, maybe, I just won’t, or both. Sometimes I get to meet my former students, and when they greet me excitedly, sometimes too eagerly as if they have seen a movie star, I have to take a pause and wonder why they are acting like that, and then it comes back to me… because I was their teacher. We all tend to behave like that in the presence of a teacher we really like, don’t we? And no matter what I do, I cannot take that back from them.

I once believed I could change the world.

Please do not think I dislike how things are now in my life. Things are going well, even when I am not teaching. Everything is less stressful now, if that is any consolation, and I can do what I want to do as long as I believe in it. But I must admit that sometimes, when I am allowing myself not to be defensive about it, I wonder what would happen, what could have happened, if I had continued to carry a box of chalk in my hands, or a marker, greeting students “Good Morning” everyday, or telling them “The worst thing you can do is do things half-baked.”

Sometimes I wonder if things would have been different, if lives would have been different if I stayed on the same road. Still, sometimes, I wonder, if I still have it in me to change the world…  believing I can, with teaching—my teaching.

Dominique Fae Saroca Fajardo, 24, is a registered nurse, a home baker and a blogger.