A Winged Pedagogue (Submitted to The Aklan Collegian)

March 11, 2010 ♥Angel♥

A Winged Pedagogue

By: Ma. Angelica Maghinang – Domingo

(Inspired by the heroism of all teachers)

The banners, the posters, the television advertisements – broad smiles on the faces that promised the nation food in everyone’s plate, sound sleep at nights, a helping hand, a concrete future, education for everyone – free for the poor, all for their trust. For their name to be chosen, for the people to believe them – that they were the long-awaited gallant martyr, selfless and dedicated, that was born to lead and emancipate the country from all its evil.

JR kicked the unripe mango that fell from the tree in their backyard. Tears fell as he closed his eyes and cursed. They promised everything but none of them can ever give him what he wanted. What he longed for was that sweetly smothering hug, that soothing lullaby, that reassuring voice, that sweet and gentle kiss that was long remembered even after almost three years. “Mama”, he cried. He sat down and hugged his knees. It was almost three years but the pain felt like an open wound stabbed again, and again.

His last memory of his mother played on his mind. She woke him up early because she had to go to school even though it was a Special Day. “JR, here’s your milk. I have to go to school early so just wait here until your father gets back from the rice fields,” she said. “Ma, you did not have to wake me up. I’m still sleepy.” JR said. “I just want to hug and kiss you before I go. Most likely, I would not be able to go home tonight,” she said, then hugged him tight and gave him a peck on the cheek. He went back to sleep.

Questions raced in his mind. “What if I did not go back to sleep and watched her go instead? It won’t change a thing but I would have more time spent with her”. “What if I got sick that day, maybe she would not be able to leave me and would just be absent for her work”. Enough, he told his self. I can never bring her back. But without his permission, his mind drifted away.

“Liz, wake up!” Lenny shouted. She heard gunshots and her ears rang as she pulled Liz into awareness and ran. She could not believe her eyes. Flames licked her skin and burned parts of her clothes as well as Liz’s. Liz let out a shriek as she realized what happened. The building is on fire. The place smelled of gasoline, but what was stronger was the stench of death. They saw the perpetrators: armed men with bonnets, executioners who came with a dreadful message – that it was time for them to go. “What did we do?” Lenny asked herself. She froze for a millisecond as terror washed over her. She was brought back to life by an insistent tug at her arm. It was Liz. They ran and heard the gunmen firing behind them. They run but Lenny felt greater terror as she realized that they were trapped. There’s nowhere else to run. She hugged Liz tightly as she thought about her family. “JR”, she whispered and then heard her own scream, it sounded as if it came from someone else. She felt pain all over her body until her mind refused to think and the darkness swallowed her.

“Mama!” JR jerked awake and cried openly until he felt numbed.

JR was just a face of the children of the public school teachers bound by law to serve in the elections. Lenny was just a face of the selfless teachers who render their services worth much greater than what they get. Their shouts and whispers are prayers and hope that the government would give them all the security that they need in handling these perilous tasks – that there won’t be any educator added to the statistics of the winged pedagogues who gave their life for their duty as bound by law.

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