"Good bye, class"

"Good bye and thank you, teacher!"

For the past 10 years, I have been immune to this mundane and scripted greetings. Five times a day, five days a week, 20 days a month, 200 days a year, it is like a prayer that I (and my students in Manila) got very much acquainted to. Sometimes - perhaps out of routine - we say good-bye to each other without meaning it. “Anyway” I thought, “We will see each other again tomorrow”. But nobody prepared me to say it for the last time.

"Good bye, class…"

I can still remember how I felt saying those words on my last day. My students had no idea that I was leaving the Philippines for good to move here in Hong Kong. As I bade good bye to the children I have always considered my "anak" (children), I also opened my hands to let go of my stable teaching career back home. I was at the prime of my professional life and I knew I could give more; but, I guess life has its way of “teaching the teacher”. This is what being a neophyte migrant worker in Hong Kong taught me - and I was never the same after that.

In school, students’ progress is assessed through exams and projects. In life, I got tested when I decided to move permanently in Hong Kong. I used to be idealistic - a hardcore nationalistic teacher. After months of preparing for the licensure examination and obtaining my license to teach, I vowed to remain in the Philippines and become an educator for as long as I live. In 2015, I received a government offer from the United States inviting me to settle in Washington to head the Special Education division. They gave me lucrative offers - so tempting that only fools would think of turning them down. And I chose to be that fool. I turned them down together with the prestigious and rare opportunity to make my life better. When I was asked why I declined, my answer pretty straightforward. “Hindi ko maiwan ‘yung mga estudyante ko” (I cannot leave my students).

Fast-forward 2019, I got married and joined my husband here in Hong Kong. Months prior to my flight, I started scouting for possible job opportunities. I was terrified and worried that I would never land any. And just like in exams, I was anxious throughout even though I was prepared for the move. With God’s grace, an institution gave me a chance and I was able to get a job as a teacher. On my first day, I remember the look on the parents’ faces. I understood why they were curious and doubtful. In the sea of blonde educators, I was the only “Asian-looking”. I remember one parent who even inquired where I came from. I was not offended at all. They have all the right to be concerned. I was different. I felt different during the start. It was a tremendous help that my boss and colleagues were very supportive and encouraging. Ever since then, I have worked hard to raise my head - slowly and confidently amidst the stares and doubts. There were days when I would tell myself that I was better off back home. In Manila, I was confident and recognised. Here in Hong Kong, I had to build what I had all over again.

"Good bye and thank you, teacher!"

In those first few days when my credibility as an HK teacher was tested, I could hear my Manila students’ echoing greetings. I told myself that my heart as a teacher would always be for the Filipino students only. I promised that I will not invest any extra feelings towards my students here in Hong Kong. I promised to just do my job and not let them into my heart. Like in any test, my goal back then was just to finish my tasks and walk out of the room. But the more I got to talk to my students, the more I lost sight of the promises I made. I slowly gained friendship with them. I started looking forward to seeing them. Each class became more personal and I learned to open my heart to listen to their stories. The one that totally broke the walls down was a student who wrote a letter to his family telling how much he liked our class. His previous teachers gave him negative feedback; so I figured that usual teaching strategies would not work with him. I started making our lessons personal and encouraged him to talk more in class (which he did towards the end!). Helping him was my very first achievement as a teacher in Hong Kong. I realised that it is possible - that I can find my place in this new place despite being “different”. 

All my effort paid off as my students (and their parents) began to see the help I am trying to extend. Finally, amidst the sea of blonde teachers, being dark-skinned or “Asian-looking” does not feel awkward anymore. From being stared at, parents now approach me to consult about their children’s progress. They express their trust and confidence in my supervision - and I could not ask for anything more than that. I am happy to see that they recognise what I can do for their children. But more than that, I am happier to be a tiny representative of all the hardworking Filipino OFWs in Hong Kong. Some of my students’ helpers would get surprised to see me inside the classroom. “Filipino ka ba ma’am?” (Are you a Filipino, ma’am?) they would ask. And whenever I say I am, I would see pride and joy in their eyes. I guess that is what makes Filipinos unique. No matter where we are in the world, we have this undeniably strong bond like we are part of one family. We celebrate the victory of others and mourn over their defeat.

"Thank you for teaching us today, Ms. She!"

This is how my HK kids greet me now. It does not sound like how my Manila students would greet after class; nor does it resonate any memory of what I have left in the past. Moving to Hong Kong taught me a great lesson as a teacher - that the value of my vocation does not depend on location. Hong Kong opened my eyes to see that I AM HERE BECAUSE THIS IS WHERE I AM NEEDED. My students need someone to talk to about their fears, frustrations, anxiety and hopes for the future. Teaching in Hong Kong made me realise that, despite being in a “third world country”, Filipino students are still luckier because teachers back home are mostly approachable and patient. Students here in Hong Kong are young warriors who are trying to battle excruciating expectations, discrimination and loneliness.

“Will you come back, Miss?” “I (will) miss you, teacher” some of my students anxiously said last December when I told them that I would be away for Christmas.  “Of course I will be back” I told them. “I will never leave you, guys” they looked assured after that.

In my mind, there is no doubt that Hong Kong is now my home. My students here are my new home. I know that I am where I am meant to be, no matter what the future holds.