Teaching Values (March 4,2008)

Teaching Values
By: Maria Reylan M. Garcia


Ten minutes, the time it took us to get settled and complete inside the L300 van. Fourteen minutes, we waited for our hamburgers and sundaes at a drive-thru. Fifteen minutes, the time it took us to memorize an action song about birds, trees and fish. Twenty minutes, how long I dozed off during the entire road trip. Forty five minutes, travel time from Iloilo City to our destination, a church-side elementary school in Dueñas. As we came to a stop, I saw some curious faces of grade school pupils wondering why some weird looking college freshmen dared to enter their half-opened gates. Each of us tiptoed down the van carrying some bulky paper bags and packed carton boxes, inside are pencils, erasers, notebooks and sharpeners neatly placed inside some forty-five plastic envelopes. It wasn't long until some pupils greeted us with cheery smiles telling us we're in the right place and we're doing the right thing. Their welcoming hellos turned those few minutes into a lifetime of unforgettable moments.


As part of our school requirement, an outreach activity was to be performed by each group; otherwise we just have to visualize the number five printed in our transcripts. Twelve of us decided to push through a values formation class for grade school pupils, unaware of the tasking preparations we have to accomplish. The permits we need professors to sign, but who constantly were nowhere to be seen because of their quite habitual academic meetings. The downtown budgeted shopping for school supplies to give the students got our belts tightened to its maximum limit, we bid farewell to a week's worth allowance. But every centavo spent and every sweat drop perspired were all worth it, as we came to teach and had fun with those cute little angels of grade three, section Rizal.

We let the pupils draw their dream selves. We let them create a portrait of who they want to be when they grow up. I chuckled as a great majority drew caricatures of nurses complete with clinical uniforms and the distinct cap. At first I jumped to the theory that they may be victims of brainwashing considering the thick bundle of green cold cash they could be earning if they pursue with that course, most of aspiring student nurses do. But that chuckle was silenced to a grin, when each of them explained why they wanted to be nurses. Every single third grader muttered the phrase, 'to help sick people get well', how altruistic their motives are, in fact the very reason why that profession existed in the first place. Funny, how I was reminded of the reason why I ought to become a nurse by some innocent grade three kids. But what really caught my attention were those six boys who drew six different superheroes they see on weekend cartoons. Again their reasons of untainted innocence brought the twelve of us smiling, 'to save good people from bad guys'. Rarely, can we hear this chaste hope of a child, I wish one day they can be superheroes of their own right. Just one question, I wonder why none of them drew government leaders as their dream selves. Maybe they can't see them saving good people from bad guys or helping sick people get well.



We divided the class into smaller groups and created an open forum for them. The topic was about family, we wanted to know how they viewed their own families despite of dripping ceilings, economic poverty. There was a question that stated: If you would be given a chance to change anything in your family what would that be? Frankly, I expected for sour grapes and regrets, but I failed to hear them. Rather, my ears listened to light and happy responses of nothing, none, never, not a chance. How remarkable are these children, they have all the rights in the world to clamor for the best and yet they desire less, for they are contented. I wonder why some of society's elite still continue to shovel up some hundreds of millions and still have a lot of things that they would like to change in their families.

After several minutes of idealistic talks about believing in your dreams and living out the nationalistic pride, we stripped of the serious side and played games. For some moment or two, I was back in grade three, getting fired up in stacking the straw of towers and hitting some drinking cups with crumpled paper balls, all for the simple rewards of candies and lollipops.

An hour and thirty minutes, the time it took me to finish this article. Twelve hours, the time it took me to study three exams for the next week. A lifetime, the time I'll be remembering those moments with the grade three Rizal pupils, the moments when I thought I'll be teaching them values.


In the end, they were the ones who taught me.