As I Bid Farewell

 

As the days of my exit from the service draw near, the pangs of separation begin to set in. I find myself missing the people with whom I have shared almost four decades of memories — the hustling and bustling of daily work, the laughter, and even the tears. Faces of students who became part of my life flash in my mind, together with recollections of moments that touched my heart and left lasting marks on my soul.

I admit, I tend to grow emotional and nostalgic as I prepare to leave a life I have embraced for so long. Yet, I remind myself not to cling to such feelings, for this is merely another chapter closing — and a new one about to begin in the ongoing drama of my life.

Yes, I can’t simply shake off the memories. This is my second great separation — the first being my husband’s passing, and now, my retirement from service. Life brings changes, and each of us has our own way of coping and moving forward. I am now at the threshold of a new journey, and while it poses a challenge, it also excites me. As a mother, nothing can be more fulfilling than devoting time to one’s child — to see her pursue her dreams — and to embrace the privileges of a “second citizenship,” the Senior Citizen status.

Some people have asked why I chose to retire at sixty when I could still serve five more years. My answer is simple: Life is too short to delay what truly matters. After graduating from college, I devoted more than half of my life to government service. Now, I wish to give quality time to myself and my family — who, at times, took second place to my work. To me, what counts most is not how long you stay in service, but how meaningfully you spend your retirement years.

Retirement, for me, is not a time of idleness. It is another realm of service — one without deadlines and pressures. Beyond family, the Church and the community offer boundless opportunities to serve. As long as one lives a purpose-driven life and clings to the One Above, the retirement years will always be a chapter to cherish.

I’ve often heard people remark, “Ay, classroom teacher ka lang?” What an understatement! At first, I felt insulted, but later, I realized that perhaps they saw in me the potential to take a different path. Still, I made my choice. I left the comfort of an air-conditioned office to be with energetic, sometimes rowdy, students — and there, I found fulfillment, meaning, and significance. I have no regrets. I have tasted the joy of success in my work, and that is enough for me.

Goodbyes should not be sad. They should be celebrations of thanksgiving, for no matter how happy or painful life’s experiences have been, each one has made us better and stronger.

To my friends and colleagues in the service — thank you. You have been my partners in fulfilling a noble mission: to educate the young. In times of discouragement, you inspired me to carry on.

Five principals, three department heads, and four curriculum chairpersons have guided and molded me through the years. Each had distinct personalities, and I have cherished the lessons learned from them. I must admit — I was not always the most obedient subordinate. I would question when something seemed unreasonable. But I was always dedicated and supportive, never shirking my responsibilities. To me, a healthy work environment welcomes diverse perspectives, for only then can we see the whole picture.

I value working with people who innovate and seek solutions, not those who gossip or stir division. I deeply admire my fellow teachers who quietly perform their duties yet achieve remarkable results — those who do not seek recognition or promotions, but find contentment in a simple word of appreciation.

Through the years, one distinct lesson has guided me: Never declare that you are the best, nor demand respect from others.
Instead, work for excellence and with excellence — for your work will speak for you, and respect will follow. In the end, accomplishment outweighs titles.

Yes, I’ve been annoyed, tired, and even angry at times — but I will miss my students deeply. Their mischief made me laugh; their happiness became my joy; their indifference challenged me; their achievements fulfilled me; their tears moved me; their respect dignified me. I am blessed to have taught a multitude of talented students who, in their own ways, made a teacher out of me. It was through them that I rose from Teacher I to Master Teacher II. For that, I am truly grateful.

To those who may have been uncomfortable with how I worked — thank you, too. You pushed me to strive harder, to prove that I could grow despite challenges. I have my own motivations, methods, and aspirations, and I have always respected others’ ways, as I hope they respected mine. We may not have been on the same wavelength, but we shared the same purpose. After all, you can never please everyone. What matters is doing what is right and for the good of many, without stepping on others.

And of course, how can I forget my family — the wind beneath my wings. My late husband was my tutor in history, economics, and social issues. He was my number one critic in speeches and write-ups, and an early “Brigada Eskwela” volunteer long before it became a movement. My late mother-in-law, a teacher herself, defended me whenever my long work hours drew complaints at home. My daughter taught me what students expect from their teachers. I remember her calling me “a terror in sheep’s skin” — knowing that while I demanded excellence, I was soft-hearted toward their struggles. Eventually, she understood why: I wanted my students to grow into better persons — for their families, their country, and the world.

My superiors and colleagues taught me so much. I learned human nature at its truest form. I found friends who became family — standing by me through every triumph and trial. From them, I learned selfless service, the value of time, and the power of respect — regardless of status. I learned that people are the network of effective and efficient service. I embraced excellence, love for work, respect for differences, and service to humanity.

Capiz National High School — with nearly three hundred dedicated teachers and over six thousand students — is a vast, living community. At times, it can feel like a jungle of complexities, but it is here that I learned to endure, to grow, and to proudly say: I survived.

Thank you, my beloved Alma Mater — my home for four decades.
This is not goodbye, for you will always be a home I can return to.

God bless you all.