How many kilobytes can your heart hold?

My name is Hannah and I was born twenty-two years ago. I live in a country with more than 7,000 islands. Unfortunately, we do not have snow. I am trying to finish a degree in Clinical Psychology while working part-time in a BPO somewhere in Makati. Children are the apple of my eyes. If you see me listening to music, I'm probably listening to Jason Mraz. Philippine Literature and Historical fiction interests me. Cute things bring out my girly self. ISFP.
Posts tagged "teacher"
LIGAYA A. REGISDivision Supervisor, Journalism I saw this certificate in my brother’s room while I was helping him clean up. I wanted to cry when I saw the name. Mrs. Regis used to be the Journalism adviser of my high school’s campus paper. She was the only teacher who made me cry. I cried not because she treated me harshly, but because during my second year in high school, she said goodbye to us. She was promoted to a higher position. There was no doubt about her promotion. During her stay in our high school as a Journalism adviser, our school was in the top 10 high school papers in the whole country for 10 years. She was that good… and that’s also the reason why she has a special place in my heart. I started writing when I was six or seven. I kept a diary, and I would write all sorts of stories, poems, essays, etc. On my fourth grade in elementary school, I tried signing up as a writer for our school paper, but I failed. I tried every year until my sixth grade, but I never got in. I finally graduated and moved to high school. I have heard about Mrs. Regis in the past, and so I was a bit scared of signing up. I still tried, though.. And I got in. She accepted twenty students from hundreds of first-year students. I couldn’t believe it. I thought it was just pure luck, but still, I did my best. I listened well every time she discussed lessons on how to write news articles, feature stories, opinion pieces, sports articles, etc. She let us to get a feel of the different kinds of sections in our school paper, and she encouraged us to write for the section where we excelled. I wrote for the features. She rarely made us write about a topic that she thought of — she trained us to think, brainstorm, and come up with our own ideas. I could really say that it was her who made me fall in love with writing. She helped us sharpen our skills according to our own pace and style. During the last few months of my second year in high school, she made the announcement that made me cry. She got promoted to a higher position, and so she has to leave our school and start working in the Department of Education’s office. As I sat at the back of our school paper’s office, I tried my best to not let the tears fall from my eyes… but I failed. I looked away and muffled my cry into silent sobs. The next year, she was replaced by another teacher. I don’t know if I got used to having an excellent teacher like Mrs. Regis or if she’s really a bad journalism teacher, because she sucked big time. I started avoiding meetings because I hated how I never learned anything from her. I could write more about her but that’s another story. Anyway, I stayed until my fourth year in high school just for the sake of being a writer in our school paper. One time, the teacher who replaced told us that we’re going to to a general cleaning of all the files in our office. While I was looking through old records and papers, I saw Mrs. Regis’ class record where she our grades for the articles we wrote. I was surprised to see that among the twenty students that she accepted during my first year, I got the highest average. I just couldn’t believe what I saw, especially because I felt so intimidated by her excellency in her job and the great skills of my classmate. Sometimes I think that maybe she made a mistake in grading my papers, but deep inside I felt very happy. She was the first person to make me feel like I actually have writing skills. I haven’t hear anything from her since then. She probably doesn’t remember me anymore, but the tears that almost fell from my eyes when I saw this certificate proves how much I am thankful for getting to know her. She’s now the supervisor for dozens of high school journalism classes, and I’m sure that she will get promoted again someday. She’s amazing, and I wish I can thank her for building up my self-confidence in writing. If not for her, my Tumblr would just be another generic “reblog blog”. Haha :P

LIGAYA A. REGIS
Division Supervisor, Journalism

I saw this certificate in my brother’s room while I was helping him clean up. I wanted to cry when I saw the name. Mrs. Regis used to be the Journalism adviser of my high school’s campus paper. She was the only teacher who made me cry. I cried not because she treated me harshly, but because during my second year in high school, she said goodbye to us. She was promoted to a higher position. There was no doubt about her promotion. During her stay in our high school as a Journalism adviser, our school was in the top 10 high school papers in the whole country for 10 years. She was that good… and that’s also the reason why she has a special place in my heart.

I started writing when I was six or seven. I kept a diary, and I would write all sorts of stories, poems, essays, etc. On my fourth grade in elementary school, I tried signing up as a writer for our school paper, but I failed. I tried every year until my sixth grade, but I never got in.

I finally graduated and moved to high school. I have heard about Mrs. Regis in the past, and so I was a bit scared of signing up. I still tried, though.. And I got in. She accepted twenty students from hundreds of first-year students. I couldn’t believe it. I thought it was just pure luck, but still, I did my best. I listened well every time she discussed lessons on how to write news articles, feature stories, opinion pieces, sports articles, etc. She let us to get a feel of the different kinds of sections in our school paper, and she encouraged us to write for the section where we excelled. I wrote for the features. She rarely made us write about a topic that she thought of — she trained us to think, brainstorm, and come up with our own ideas. I could really say that it was her who made me fall in love with writing. She helped us sharpen our skills according to our own pace and style.

During the last few months of my second year in high school, she made the announcement that made me cry. She got promoted to a higher position, and so she has to leave our school and start working in the Department of Education’s office. As I sat at the back of our school paper’s office, I tried my best to not let the tears fall from my eyes… but I failed. I looked away and muffled my cry into silent sobs. The next year, she was replaced by another teacher. I don’t know if I got used to having an excellent teacher like Mrs. Regis or if she’s really a bad journalism teacher, because she sucked big time. I started avoiding meetings because I hated how I never learned anything from her. I could write more about her but that’s another story.

Anyway, I stayed until my fourth year in high school just for the sake of being a writer in our school paper. One time, the teacher who replaced told us that we’re going to to a general cleaning of all the files in our office. While I was looking through old records and papers, I saw Mrs. Regis’ class record where she our grades for the articles we wrote. I was surprised to see that among the twenty students that she accepted during my first year, I got the highest average.

I just couldn’t believe what I saw, especially because I felt so intimidated by her excellency in her job and the great skills of my classmate. Sometimes I think that maybe she made a mistake in grading my papers, but deep inside I felt very happy. She was the first person to make me feel like I actually have writing skills.

I haven’t hear anything from her since then. She probably doesn’t remember me anymore, but the tears that almost fell from my eyes when I saw this certificate proves how much I am thankful for getting to know her. She’s now the supervisor for dozens of high school journalism classes, and I’m sure that she will get promoted again someday. She’s amazing, and I wish I can thank her for building up my self-confidence in writing. If not for her, my Tumblr would just be another generic “reblog blog”. Haha :P

Photo
Caught on cam. This is a blurry screenshot taken from a video presentation of the teachers in our volunteer work. I had no idea that they took a picture of me, and it was a bit embarrassing when the video was played in front of more than 10,000 people. Haha. Almost a year ago, I went back to being a once-a-week volunteer teacher and it has been a wonderful experience from me. It can get tiring. It can get really crazy when you have a group of ten kids and you’re trying to teach them new artworks, and then suddenly you see three boys fighting in the corner. You break them up and go back to the tables and notice that a boy spilled water on the floor. You clean up, sit down and a kid complains about being hungry. You tell them it’s snack time but they want to play instead. However, nothing can replace the joy getting hugged by kids outside the classrooms while they shout, “that’s my teacher!”. I have been with them for a year, and I refuse to let go of my Nursery boys class (boys are separated from the girls because there are too many kids). I’m moving up to the Kinder class with them because I have fallen in love with my boys and I don’t want to see them go. I want to be there for them as they grow up. :)

Caught on cam.

This is a blurry screenshot taken from a video presentation of the teachers in our volunteer work. I had no idea that they took a picture of me, and it was a bit embarrassing when the video was played in front of more than 10,000 people. Haha.

Almost a year ago, I went back to being a once-a-week volunteer teacher and it has been a wonderful experience from me. It can get tiring. It can get really crazy when you have a group of ten kids and you’re trying to teach them new artworks, and then suddenly you see three boys fighting in the corner. You break them up and go back to the tables and notice that a boy spilled water on the floor. You clean up, sit down and a kid complains about being hungry. You tell them it’s snack time but they want to play instead. However, nothing can replace the joy getting hugged by kids outside the classrooms while they shout, “that’s my teacher!”.

I have been with them for a year, and I refuse to let go of my Nursery boys class (boys are separated from the girls because there are too many kids). I’m moving up to the Kinder class with them because I have fallen in love with my boys and I don’t want to see them go. I want to be there for them as they grow up. :)

Photo
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