Wishful Redemption: A Teacher's Journey from Misery to Victory

In the Philippines, teachers are dubbed heroes. The most popular slogan describing them, My Teacher, My Hero, fits well with the real predicament of the teachers in this country who work their fingers to the bone, go the extra mile, or burn a candle at both ends. Indeed, our teachers exemplify the identities of being a subject expert, a reporter, a mentor, and a good role model. I am one of these 900,000 public school Filipino teachers at all levels of basic education, and I am no hero. I have changed—a radical and revolutionary change.

I found myself at a crossroads in my lifelong journey as an educator in the heart of a little town in one of the Philippines' regions. For more than 28 years, I have committed my life to teaching, developing young minds, and establishing a love of study. But, as the years passed, the once-bright flame of my enthusiasm began to flicker, gradually extinguished by the harsh winds of injustice within the educational system.

I had witnessed firsthand the decline of meritocracy, the unjust promotions that left dedicated teachers unrecognized, the continuing ancillary duties that devoured our time and energy, the deteriorating quality of education due to mass promotion, poor facilities, and outdated curriculum, a lack of support for teachers in terms of training, compensation, and mental health, a shortage of textbooks and equipment, and the list goes on. The system I once believed in, the system that was supposed to inspire and empower, now felt like a suppressing bureaucracy that suffocated creativity and drowned passion in sorrow and misery. Imagine having to wait a decade for the promotion we all deserved. And now I am waiting again, in vain, for more than a year.

I used to be a firm believer in the value of education to influence a better future. My classroom was a refuge, a place where children were encouraged to think critically, dream big, and challenge the world around them. But as the system became increasingly complicated, I found myself suffocating in administrative responsibilities, wallowing in paperwork intended to help, not hinder, education.

The final straw that shattered the camel's back was realizing that promotions were no longer based on merit but rather on power struggles and preference. Colleagues with less experience and effort surpassed others who had been in the profession for decades. I felt the pain of injustice, and it put a shadow over my school's once-happy hallways.

As the weight of these injustices weighed on me, I couldn't help but think of myself as a revolutionary. The enthusiasm that had driven my commitment to school had turned into hatred and rage. I found consolation in lamenting and challenging my students to be radical thinkers who questioned authorities and demanded change.

My classes became platforms for opposition, and my walls resonated with the voices of young minds questioning the world. My dissatisfaction served as armor, a shield against the numerous injustices that crippled our educational system. I thought I was making a difference by inspiring a new generation of critical thinkers, but in reality, I was losing myself.

My relationships with my fellow workers began to deteriorate. I withdrew from collaborative efforts after becoming disgusted with a system that seemed unconcerned with the challenges of people who worked tirelessly to influence the future. My identity as a teacher, which had once been a source of pride for me, began to change into something unrecognizable—a vessel of bitterness and contempt.

My frustration was motivated not just by system injustices but also by the growing understanding that my radical perspective had overtaken me. The never-ending battles against an institution that seemed resistant to reform left me exhausted and depressed. The indignation I felt at the system and those who perpetuated these injustices became a poison that penetrated every part of my life.

Depression had infiltrated my life like an unwanted intruder, and my once-passionate heart was now covered in sadness. I wanted to find happiness in something that had previously defined me. I wondered if the effort was worth it if I had the strength to keep fighting against a system that appeared indestructible to change.

In the depths of my misery, a flash of wisdom struck me like lightning. I stood in front of my classroom window, staring out at the world, and I saw the reflection of a teacher who had gone astray. The weight of my responsibilities, not only to the system but also to the young minds ahead of me, slammed over me like a tidal wave.

I understood I could shape opinions, inspire change, and implant ideals that would last a lifetime. Bitterness, constant dissatisfaction, and a revolutionary life were not tools for change. They were the chains that held me back from achieving the same goal that had convinced me to become a teacher.

I realized the magnitude of my responsibility at that time of discovery. I was more than simply a teacher; I was a mind-molder, a beam of light for those who looked up to me. The revolutionary fire that had consumed me had to be channeled, not against the system but toward bringing about constructive change within it.

I set out on a path of self-discovery and transformation. Not through endless complaints, but through acts of kindness, I searched for ways to address the disparities that had driven my unhappiness. I became an advocate for positive change within the system, working to create an environment that served both educators and students.

This process was not easy. It took confronting my bitterness and letting go of the spite that had become a toxic companion. I looked for methods to connect with my colleagues and to repair the gaps that had been created as a result of our common despair. We might be a force for change if we banded together and demanded a fair and just education system.

As I redirected my focus to productive efforts, I saw a subtle change in the school's atmosphere. My students were pleased with the shift in my attitude. Instead of challenging them to be radicals for the sake of disobedience, I urged them to be pragmatic idealists—to dream big while still understanding the practical actions required to effect change.

True change, I understood, did not come from constant complaining but from sincere involvement. I became active in projects aimed at transforming the learning environment, cooperating with like-minded educators to create a system that valued merit, encouraged innovation, and fostered the well-being of both teachers and students.

During this process, I found the passion again that initially drew me to teaching. My enthusiasm, which I had thought was extinguished, suddenly reignited. I witnessed education's transformational power not just in the minds of my students but also in myself.

The resentment that had defined me went away as I became an agent of constructive change within the system. After years of hostility, the identity of a good role model became stronger and more resilient. I became a symbol of metamorphosis, demonstrating that even amid adversity, one can rediscover their purpose and leave a lasting impression.

My journey from revolutionary bitterness to constructive transformation was more than a personal accomplishment; it was proof of education's transformative power. It taught me that true improvement begins within and that, as a teacher, I had the key to unlocking the potential in myself and my students.

The revolution I sought was not against the system but within it—a revolution of values, empathy, and of a shared commitment to creating a better future. The injustices that once consumed me became the catalyst for positive change, a driving force that propelled me towards a brighter and more fulfilling path.

Finally, I realized that the real essence of my identity as an educator had not been gone; rather, it had been hidden by the shadows of discontent. Through resilience and determination to change, I emerged from the darkness stronger and more motivated than ever before,

My story serves as a reminder that, even amid systemic problems, we can define our destiny. As educators, we have the power to shape not only the minds of our learners but also the fundamental foundation of the educational system. We must accept this responsibility with open minds, mindful of the transforming impact we may have on the world one student at a time.

Elenita Fuentes Alibang is a Grade 10 junior high school teacher who has been in the service for more than 28 years now. Her personal views in this article do not represent those of any organization or institution.