Yes, I have to admit that these points may be valid. Still, it is my choice whether I want to set aside these advantages in favor of a more difficult choice, which is to stay here in the Philippines. I had to spend several days as one of the hundreds of workers in our metropolis to rediscover why I want to remain in this country.

Several weeks ago, I began my summer job as an English teacher, specifically teaching children of elementary age. Getting to my workplace and back requires me to wake up early, to wait at a dusty and smoky bus stop for an already crowded bus, and to walk a long way past overpasses with beggars, rushing cars that seem to have lost their brakes, and sidewalks full of cracks and potholes. The very nature of my work requires a lot of patience, especially when dealing with stubborn children who may not understand the importance of education. I return home sometimes ranting about the unruliness my younger students display.

I am certain that my idealism has not been lost. On the surface, it may appear to have wavered a bit, but deep down, it is becoming more grounded as I begin finding ways to make an impact on the reality that I am becoming accustomed to because of my everyday life. I am beginning to understand that my decision to remain in the Philippines will not take me on a yellow brick road.

Recently, I asked two of my older students to write about their plans to achieve their dreams. Both of these boys wrote about becoming doctors, and the hard work they were willing to do in order to reach this noble goal. Their reasons stemmed from a love of helping others, even at their own personal disadvantages. While reading their works, I wished that my world could come up roses, just like theirs. I was glad to see that at their age, they were already beginning to think of possibilities that would be for the betterment of other people, and to make plans, however vague they may have been at first. Our differences in age and position clearly denoted a gap between our ways of thinking, but there are two things that transcended it; hope, and the potential to make a dream into reality.

Children hope and dream limitlessly, to the point that their visions are utopian. They believe in every promise, and hold on to the sunlight in the darkest corners. With more mature persons, this trait can either vanish altogether into the dark void of apathy, or adopt a more balanced footing that weighs the good and bad in the situation, and decides on a feasible course of action to effect a positive change. I am certain that my idealism has not been lost. On the surface, it may appear to have wavered a bit, but deep down, it is becoming more grounded as I begin finding ways to make an impact on the reality that I am becoming accustomed to because of my everyday life. I am beginning to understand that my decision to remain in the Philippines will not take me on a yellow brick road. It will entail much sacrifice on my part on many levels. I will have to pay my taxes, contribute my talent and resources to the needy, and dedicate years that I could have used for other, easier endeavors besides a lifelong vocation as a teacher.

So why would I pick a more difficult path to follow? I know that there is a reason for my being born and raised in the Philippines, for having grown up being aware of the less fortunate around me, and for my passion in becoming an educator. With all of these traits in me, I see no other way to make the best of them besides serving my countrymen, especially the young. I am a great believer in the importance of a good environment and good role models in determining a better future for an individual. If my presence and effort in one classroom can ensure that some children will return home inspired and ready to do their own small parts in making a difference in our society, then I will not have stayed in vain.

My staying in the Philippines will probably not revamp our entire government. It will not wipe out poverty in one go, nor will it improve the peso’s exchange rate to twenty. However, I can help in imparting even just one vision of a better Philippines to a child, who will in turn tell perhaps four others of what he or she learned, and these four to several more, and so on and so forth. In time, this vision will have reached a critical mass of people and become a powerful means of changing lives.

In the past few weeks, I have learned what I am powerless against, and what I do have the means to influence. I may not be able to lobby in the streets against corruption in the government, and nor can I run for public office in the years to come. I lack the strength to stand up to powerful structures and institutions; however I have the will to empower young people who are stronger and more principled than I could ever hope to be. I may not start a foundation or be present at the scene of every disaster, but I can hand down a priceless legacy to my children in the future. I can bring them up to love their country enough to cherish what is good in it, and find ways to change what can bring it to shame.

It would be a good thing if I could live to see the fruits of what I work for in the Philippines. Still, I am aware of the time it takes to alter well-placed structures, like water seeping over a rock to eventually weather it. It is very likely that what I and so many other educators do will only become manifest in the lives of our grandchildren. I go to the classroom every day, not knowing whether I will see what effect I will have on the lives of my students. Every day, I pray that what I do or say will leave a good mark on them. After all, I am just one young woman trying to inspire at least four other children in one day.

I no longer live on the ecstatic rush of dreams and visions inspired by stirring slogans and clichés that ignore practical application. Nowadays, I listen and take in all these things, and act on them as I can, not expecting grandiose outcomes. Rather, I expect the seemingly insignificant, every day signs of hope which become part of the effort to change the Philippines for the better. I look at my decision to stay here in its light and shadow, heeding all the warnings, but choosing to endure and wait for the dawn which I know lies ahead.

April 2006
1st Place Winner, Kabataan Essay Category (English)
56th Carlos Palanca Memorial Awards for Literature

Katrina G. Gomez, 17, is a Fourth Year High School Student at the Assumption College, Makati.



The Cape Bojeador Lighthouse rises about 600 feet above this lonely, treacherous coast. According to the Coast Guard, there has been no known major ship accident here since the lighthouse was built in 1892.