Today Paul and I, along with Tutham and Eloi went to a public high school Justice Cecelia Munoz Palma High School about 40 minutes from Ateneo. Driving there in our air conditioned vehicle we passed the usual markets, busy streets, jeepneys, and the odd 'mega-church' or two, but as we got closer to the school we started to see the building deteriorate, a larger percentage made from plastic sheeting and old metal.
Getting out of the car, the school seemed to be of a similar design to other multi-storey buildings we have seen...but the odor of lingering trash was in the air from further up the street. We were introduced to the Principal, Ms Juanita Alajar, who, in the last nine years had increased the standards in this school, creating more of a community and a cleaner and more effective school. She is having to retire next year as she reaches the age of 65 and it begs the question as to the future of the school, and consequently, the future of the students.
The school, as Tutham and Eloi explained is in a re-settlement area -these are areas in the Philippines where squatters have been moved to, from other places. One famous place is Smokey Mountain, a dump where upwards of 25,000 people have lived. Different sources I have just read give differing information on whether it is closed or not, but regardless, people are living there too. Live on and in trash. You should google it.
While our school was a distance from there, these people too had apparently been in worse conditions, although based on what we viewed from the car, their amenities are not plentiful now. Our biggest eye opener was the size and quality of the classroom. As the community has increased, the school has had to make additional rooms. While they are currently constructing a new building immediately next to an existing one, they have had to modify current rooms by dividing them in half. Our first class we visited was a fourth year (10th grade - and current final year of high school) room that measured maybe four meters by eight meters...and the class size was about 50. Some of the rooms that haven't been divided house 70 or more in a class. In the Philippines, students stay in the room and teachers rotate rooms, in contrast to the USA, so, students are crammed in this room most of the school day. Despite all of these hardships, the students and teachers were so welcoming and willing to share and let us learn and join in. We were greeted with a chorus of "Mabuhay!" and beautiful smiles and watched the students work incredibly hard. For a few minutes Paul had the opportunity to share a math technique with the students and their interest never waivered and they quickly grasped the concepts he was offering them.
As I sat there, sandwiched in to my chair between Paul and Tutham with sweat beginning to build up on my skin, I wished for all my students and families and colleagues at Prep to be with me right now, to remind us all of how lucky we have it. We know that, but these little wake up calls are really useful once in a while.
Peering out of the open, broken glass window, I can see the community below. I am surround by noise and other sensory overload - noise of the workers cutting metal beams twenty feet from the window for the new building and the heavy and constant traffic on the street a similar twenty feet in another direction. It can't possibly ever be silent here. The smell of exhaust fumes and other pollution is invading my nostrils and lungs; I feel my clothes beginning to stick more to my body despite an inconsistent breeze through the metal window frames and the one ceiling fan is not working. From my third floor vantage point, we are shown in the distance a flat topped mountain that is actually another trash dump.
The taste sense was activated at lunch time when the generosity of the Principle once more came in to play a filipino meal around a beautiful wooden table in her office, on china plates. But this is also the room with the attached Principal's office bathroom where the method of flushing the toilet, as I experienced, was to take the water scoop and ladle the water in to the toilet bowl. If there is money, it is not used by her for fixing her conveniences. It's for her school, her students. Out on the school playground, small areas are dotted with potted plants, and pink flowers on vines hang over a covered seating area. Students take her hand as a sign of respect when she walks with us and are genuinely excited to see her. I realize that the world needs a few more Juanita Alajars in it.