YOUNG VOICE
Confessions of a red ballpen
I knew it was time; it's been a while since I last saw her fingers. Though I was hidden; she and her newly polished crimson nails found their way among a multitude of my kind. She brought me to a familiar room; it was well-lit and it had the smell of coffee. A few seconds later, I found myself reunited with some friends in the same wooden table. She placed me near near one who kept on correcting my every mistake. I heard the chair screech, she sat down and I became more apprehensive. She reached for me and removed my top cover and began to draw blood out of me. Yes, my blood. But I didn't care because the violence was too discreet and hemorrhage isn't any of my concerns. I have been through a lot of her kind; they all used me for the same purpose.
I am a red ballpen, my sarcastic friend is the white-out, and I bleed to serve. My masters are the teachers and I've been through different kinds.
Miss Santos, a pre-school teacher, purchased me from a school supplies store. She's in her twenties , smelled like fresh dalandan and bursting with energy. She, by far, was the most patient and tolerant of all. My cap off to Miss Santos, the early beginnings of a mathematician, pageant titlist and political leader were all inside her classroom. It was she who taught me how to draw a perfect star with just five strokes.
Miss Santos passed me on to Mrs. de la Cruz. She was in her final year of teaching when she started using me. She looked like our stereotype of old teachers --- hair tied in a bun, wore thick glasses and carried a bulky bag. She has been in the profession for almost forty years and has earned the respect of her fellow educators. She holds sleep inducing discussions.Her discussion notes and lesson plans never changed because she believes her method and approach were tested through time, thus there's no need to innovate.
Mrs. de la Cruz left me at the cafeteria after her farewell party, and that was when Mr. Carlos got hold of me. I thought my ink would ran out because he writes a novelette when he comments on the students' eassays. He said, he wants his students to learn and he'll make the process easier for them. Mr. Carlos was a middle aged high school English teacher, who considered his subject Life 101. He shared not just sentence structures nor stories Greek mythology, but his personal experiences and witty advices on dealing with life. Everybody loved his mysterious yet open nature. He would at times, keep me hanging on his polo's side pocket while playing the guitar for his students after classes. It was he who showed me more than just test papers and grids on the grading sheet.
Mr. Carlos forgot to retrieve me from his friend who borrowed my service for some time because his own red ballpen grew dry. But soon enough, I failed seeing Mr. Carlos' face and saw more of Prof. Valdez. She was a college teacher who cared more than just releasing class cards and checking attendance. She made the students independent but never ignored their cries for assistance. Yet, once more, my nomadic life brought me to the hands of another college teacher after Prof. Valdez mistook another red ballpen for me. The next moment I just saw myself inside Prof. Barrios' pencil case. He was Prof. Valdez's alter ego, who would go to his lectures and begin his lesson without even realizing only two students are around. He considers his students' grades as stress relievers, using my blood to strike a 5.0 to a student who misspelled his surname. It was both of them, Professors Valdez and Barrios who made me realize that the world is indeed at balance and my strokes can either make a relieved graduate or a frustrated failure.
With all my experiences from different kinds of teachers, I found one common thing that defined the very core of their profession. I found the link that connects all of them regardless of their popularity among students or the brand of red ballpen they use. Whatever the method or approach may be, they educate. They keep the world free from illiteracy and ignorance. Their knowledge had given rise to doctors, lawyers, nurses, engineers and even a new batch of teachers. I certainly appreciate their presence.
Now here I am in another teacher's possession. I haven't come to know her; it's been only some weeks since she has been my master. All I know, she's a teacher and I'm glad I could be of assistance to her noble profession.
Good teachers, may your tribe increase.
(For comments and reactions please send an email to reylangarcia@gmail.com or SMS to 09186363090. View my blog at http://www.theyoungvoice.blogspot.com)