THE HOPELESS DOES NOT EXIST

      I have written this during the first semester of 2010-2011 when I was in my third year in college. It is based on a required reading about a teacher who helped a child improve his reading despite the odds. Teachers are indeed miracle-workers. Generally, one does not need to have special powers or special authority to work miracles in his/her life and in others most especially.

      I struggled as I brainstrormed for this required paper. I was rather saturated with writing tasks that I found no meaning in them. I was tired and I wanted to give up. That is why I focused on hopelessness.

I am hopeless.

I have found Rommel’s story inspiring like the other stories and testimonies I have read with a similar theme but that is just about it. Unfortunately, I have nothing more to say. In the past, compulsory reflection still worked out for me; I was still able to relate the assigned readings to a personal experience or a particular aspect of my life. Yet, as this exercise became a routine, beginning in freshmen college, I honestly admit that I have learned to take it for granted. I am only sorry because the dryness had to reach its peak while being asked to see myself in this story of hope.

To say something about the text, Rommel’s case, though not a new one for me, was rather surprising. At the age of ten, he still was not able to recognize sounds. Seemingly, that was the only impediment he had, a major one. Despite that, his ability to comprehend was fairly well and he also proved to be a very critical listener, always wanting to have a deep discussion of the story narrated to him. He was an amazing boy. He displayed great potential which would have been laid to waste had Mr. Currie continued ignoring him.

This is now the point where the teacher’s role is given due emphasis. When Mr. Currie finally decided to seriously look over Rommel’s situation, he was actually discrediting the existence of the hopeless. I believe he was challenged by such lack of competence and his “teacher instincts” got to him. Where there was inability, he reached out to teach. He did it one step at a time and he gave particular focus on Rommel because he agreed that there “Ain’t no way [he] can fix everything around here.”

I hope that I can be like Mr. Currie. Actually, there is no hindrance at all. I can be like him. The “teacher instincts” also got to me when I was going over the part where Rommel was asked to read yet could not even utter the sound of a single letter he is not familiar with correctly. I am becoming sensitive to deficiencies. I have been drawn to them. During my first year in college when we, scholars, were conducting tutorials for street children, I always found time to prepare for the sessions though it would usually take until 12 midnight. I would report to the venue still sleepy yet it would all be gone when tutorials begin.

I love teaching. The satisfaction of seeing progress is worth more than any effort in preparing, strategizing, studying and reflecting. This is my motivation. This is the reason why I still lift my fingers to locate and type every single letter and punctuation in this reflection.

Rommel’s story is at the same time Mr. Currie’s story. It is the latter’s success story, a proof of his commitment, a proof that the hopeless is something imagined, something which is unmotivated.

The hopeless does not exist. It is only animated by reservations. I have not been very open to the idea of submitting reflections. I have eventually run out of words and reasons for doing so. At this point, I discover a motivation anew: I love teaching and I also want to disprove the state of hopelessness. There is always a way and there will always be a reason and use for everything. I will surely get something worthwhile from this reflection as a future teacher.

I am hope.