A Day of a Grade School Teacher

The Prefect's engulfing alarm sirened the entire Grade School, signaled the start of the formal opening of the morning assembly while I fumbled through the labyrinth of the multitude punch-in cards at the bundy clock. 7:15! Perfect. Just in the nick of time to start the day right in the good, old Xavier University Grade School.

As the children softly chorused the XU Hymn, I inched my way to the covered court. Mrs. Jamaca were already there, along with Mrs. Jano; usually the first ones to grace the venue by coming to school as early as 6:30 in the morning. As to how they do it? I have no idea. We exchanged warm glances and quipped smiles to acknowledge each other's presence.

I treasure these moments, when a teacher finds solace in the soft quiescence of the morning and collects her thoughts to pursue a day that promises a joyful (but honestly, sometimes, horrible) chaos ahead of her.

As the prefect capped the assembly to end, thunder of footsteps broke the silence. The students now went to their classrooms.

It's showtime.

I chatted a little with my co-teachers in the grade level and proceeded to tail the file of my students to the classroom. JC, one of my feeling-close students, approached me to bring in the first dish of the day, “Teacher, Jezreel lost her cellphone in the classroom yesterday.” This is it, Lord. Be with me today!

When everyone was finally seated, I locked my classroom door and started a thorough investigation. I barked and bargained and hollered and coyed and cooed and no cellphone came to surface. I wanted to pull each one of them by their feet and shake them upside down in the air to see what comes out from their nasty pockets. But all I had were faces of innocent children; apologetic of the deed they've never done. Little devils! I went to the Prefect's Office and reported the incident.

Back into the room, I took a deep breath and was ready to start with my class. It went well; my lesson development went perfect. The children were able to meet the objectives I planned for the day. Even the girl who lost her phone chuckled and had fun (unaware of what might come upon her at home later that day). They responded with jolly stance.

The excitement brought upon by the lesson surged in the air, inspiring me to do more than what is meant by ordinary and mundane. Things like these mean every good thing in the dictionary for us teachers. It's what sustains the very reason of our being here; of even waking up to the nightmare of underpayment. I left the room with nothing less than a satisfied grin on my face.

I was gladly humming my way to the office when my cellphone beeped for a text message. One subject teacher signified her absence. So okay, Teacher A out! How do I plan this? I got my substitution list and found Teacher B to be her sub. Teacher B it is. I went to find Teacher B. Then, out of the blue, Teacher B sent a note: “I am at the clinic. Not feeling well. Might go home in awhile.” Hmmm. So let's have Teacher C. “I will be at Pueblo.” came the response. Teacher D? Can you sub for… “No! I have a class!” Teacher E? “Ha? Dili man ko sa inyong level!” Ooops, sorry. Later I found out three more teachers were out. PANIC!!! One was on a seminar, one observed a class in the lower level, one was totally gone without a trace of her whereabouts. My “Anger Level” was 9.6 (10 being a completely live fireball).

Okay, Teacher F subs for A and let's get F for B. If F couldn't make it, let us make H have her class at HRG so that A's class will have time for J's class…and Z for Q…and S for P…and U for T…after all the bloody trouble shooting, Mrs. Paepke, the School Principal, substituted for Teacher X's class. How I wanted to die.

So Mrs. Paepke sat in Teacher X's class and I was walking on eggshells. My mind raced. Is the Faculty Room clean? Where is the freakin' janitor? I saw cobwebs hanging loosely in the girl's comfort room! Why are there still pieces of paper outside Teacher D's class? Why are there chairs in the hallway? And why are these boys not tucking in their shirts?! KILL ME! Arrgh!

“Why are you so white in your face, teacher?” asked my boggled student.