It’s been almost two years since I finished a graduate degree in Language and Literacy Education at the University of the Philippines Open University.
I decided to take the course a few months after the twins were born. I was focused on being my children’s first teacher that I abandoned the initial plan of pursuing a Master’s in Development Communication. (I made up for it and is now down to my last semesters for my Dev Comm masters).
It is hard to imagine how I did it. I lived in two foreign countries, raised twins, got pregnant with another mutant and gave birth five days before a paper was due. I was diligent and focused, even more diligent and focused than now as I am struggling to fulfill requirements and reconcile the two hemispheres of my brain as to which thesis proposal to pursue.
Studying language and literacy education allowed me to learn how to craft literature-based lesson plans. I have since learned to examine a children’s storybook based on the values it shares and the subjects it embraces. I have one too many literature-based lesson plans and have since used them to teach the life cycle of a butterfly to my children.
Before earning the degree, I was privileged to learn about second language teaching and interacted with Filipinos who work abroad as English teachers. It was in these encounters that I learned about their struggles and challenges.
Many of them are way better and more qualified than their American and European counterparts. But they are paid way lower than what the “white teachers” get simply because the schools think that the native English speakers are better teachers.
In Jakarta, Indonesia, I met an English guy who had no idea what a “gerund” is. But he was hired — and paid a good sum of money — to teach English because he had fair skin and was therefore considered a native English speaker.
In Guangzhou, China, I was told that I would be paid less than what my husband will be getting if we choose to teach in their school. When I asked the director why is this so, the answer was straightforward, “He is American. You are only Filipino.”
In Paris, France, I had a conversation with a lady at the Charles de Gaulle Airport who shared that her nanny is a Filipino who taught her how to read and love books and appreciate sinigang na baboy paired with rice.
In New York, USA, I met a woman who could not stop gushing about how wonderful and compassionate her children’s Filipino teachers are.
In Tabok, Mandaue City, Cebu, my teacher-friend Jackie showed me what it takes to be a public school teacher; her every day sacrifice and test of patience inspires me to do better in what I do beyond volunteering as a teacher.
It’s not teacher’s day but here’s a shoutout to every teacher — man and woman — who work hard to be this generation’s dream enablers.
I am a believer of what you do. 😉
