My college friends may not know this, but I used to be an academic achiever. It was ordinary for me to have straight As, conduct awards, and multiple extracurriculars all at once. Well, it’s all thanks to my mother—a teacher for 26 years now. She’d tell me her students don’t listen, so I’d listen in class. She’d say students submit too late for her to grade, so I’d submit on time—maybe even earlier. She’d come home tired, bearing the weight of unappreciation, so I’d always have wholehearted respect for my teachers. That is, until I grew older.

Back in elementary school, I remember seeing my classmate cry because of his nearly failing grade. I asked him why it turned out that way, and he said, “Si teacher kasi, hindi chineck ‘yung isa kong late.” To which my young, blunt mouth responded, “Ikaw pala late eh. ‘Wag mo sisihin si teacher!” I was a teacher-apologist of some sort. If a classmate wasn’t doing well, I’d automatically assume they were a bad student; never bad teachers.

That was until I got into this University. Compared to other subjects, theirs was my weakest. So, I studied for this one a little extra—sometimes even disregarding all my other subjects just to focus on this one. I mean, all I could rely on was myself, as the teacher would expect us to come to class already knowing the lesson. The discussion moved far too fast-paced for someone who barely had a clue what the field was about as I’ve been in the humanities track since God knows when and had just transferred from a Bachelor of Arts (BA) program. But, you know, maybe that’s just me being uninterested in the subject for so long, or being unskilled in this area of learning.

So, again, I studied hard. I even asked my friends to tutor me, until at some point they said I got better than them. Then, the exams came. “The fuck,” I thought as I saw the questions. That paper seemed like a social experiment. It was pages full of stuff I did know and two more that I didn’t. As much as I would like to blame myself—these weren’t even in the module! How was I supposed to know that my 8th grade lessons were a secret weapon I should’ve stored in this brain for five more years? So, with all the dignity I had left, I eenie-meenie-minie-moed my way through two pages of the exam and submitted my papers. Did I pass? No. Not even bonus points could save that.

My friend messaged me a few weeks later. “May grade na.” I accessed my portal, optimistically flashing back to all the times I doubted myself and still conquered and… a line of 5? Damn. I knew I was bad, but I was certain I wasn’t that bad. Human instinct kicked in, so I asked my classmates to check if they got the same grade. Luckily (I think), they did. I messaged my professor kindly to inquire about it, to which they responded with the most passive-aggressive, condescending reply I have ever read—to this date. They did not admit to any wrong-doing, only that they could just fix our final grade during the final term.

The thing is, students should have the right to raise concerns and be responded to, no matter how repetitive it gets.

We deserve modules that actually align with the exams, or vice versa at the very least. We have the right to not know things because that’s what teachers are for. They’re there to teach. A hostile environment defeats the purpose of schooling. Students will never learn if they are afraid to ask questions simply because college students—for some reason—are expected to know everything.

       Don’t be offended. My heart will always go out to educators, especially those like my mom, who treat it as a 24-hour job with the ultimate goal of preparing students for the future. It’s just that, sadly, there are others who simply do not care. I’m sure other students have more stories like mine, some even worse, often carried to the grave because speaking up has its consequences.

So to all the parents who think their children are bad students: on behalf of your child, I want to say—no, the case isn’t always like that. The narrative that students do all the work and teachers just input the grade is false. Because the teacher gives the work, prepares the student for it, and grades it. Okay, I do admit I still see bad students, but it disheartens me to conclude that there are bad teachers, too. And to all those who are triggered by this article, take a moment and reflect.

Originally published in Heraldo Filipino Volume 39, Issue 2