CHAPTER IX

ADVENTURES OF A SCHOOL TEACHER.

Laguna de Bay, surrounded by mountains, sleeps tranquilly in the

stillness of the elements, as if it had not joined the chorus of

the tempest on the night before. As first rays of dawn appear in the

eastern sky and awaken the phosphorescent myriads in the water, long,

grey shadows appear in the dim distance, almost on the border of the

horizon. They are shadows of fishermen's boats at work drawing in

the nets.

Two men, dressed in deep mourning, from a lofty height contemplate

the scene in silence. One is Ibarra, and the other is a young,

meek-looking man with a melancholy countenance.

"Here is the place!" said the latter. "Here is where your father's

body was thrown into the water! The grave-digger brought Lieutenant

Guevara and me here and pointed out the spot."

Ibarra, with emotion, warmly grasped the young man's hand.

"You need not thank me!" replied the latter. "I owed your father for

many favors he did me. The only thing I could ever do for him was

to accompany his body to the grave. I had come to the town without

knowing anybody, without any recommendations, without a reputation,

without money, just as I am now. Your father protected me, procured a

house for me, helped secure whatever was needed to advance education;

he used to come to the school and distribute pennies among the poor

and diligent pupils; he provided them with books and papers. But that,

like all good things, did not last long."

Ibarra took off his hat and seemed to pray for a short time. Then

he turned to his companion and said: "Did you tell me that my father

used to help the poor children? How is it now?"

"Oh, now they do the best they can."

"And don't they come to school regularly?"

"No, for their shirts are ragged and they are ashamed."

Ibarra kept silent for a few moments.

"How many pupils have you now?" he asked, with a certain interest.

"There are more than two hundred on the register, but only twenty-five

in the class."

"How does that happen?"

The school teacher sadly smiled.

"It is a long and tedious story," said he.

"Don't think that I am asking out of vain curiosity," replied Ibarra,

looking seriously at the distant horizon. "I have been meditating a

great deal on the matter, and I believe that it is far better to try to

carry out the ideas of my father than to try to avenge him. His tomb

is sacred Nature; and his enemies were the people and the priest. I

can forgive the people for their ignorance, and as to the priest,

I will pardon his character because I wish to respect the religion

which he represents. I wish to be inspired with the spirit of the

one who gave me life, and, that I may lend my help, I wish to know

what are the obstacles here in the way of education."

"The country will bless your memory, Senor, if you can carry out

the beautiful and noble ideas of your dead father," said the school

teacher. "You wish to know what the obstacles are? Very well. We are

now in such circumstances that unless something powerful intervenes,

there will never be any education here. First, because there is no

incentive or stimulus to the children, and, secondly, even when there

is an incentive, lack of means and many prejudices kill it. They say

that the son of a German peasant studies eight years in the town

school. Who would want to spend half of that time in our schools,

when the benefits to be derived are so small? Here the children read,

and commit to memory verses and at times entire books in Spanish,

but all without understanding a single word. What good can the sons

of our farmers get out of the school so long as this is the case?"

"And you see the evil; have you not thought out a remedy?"

"Ah, poor me!" replied the teacher, shaking his head, "a poor

teacher cannot alone fight against prejudices, against existing

influences. Above all, I would need to have a school house, so that

I would not, as I do now, have to teach from the priest's carriage,

under the convent. There, when the children want to read aloud, they

naturally disturb the Father, who at times comes down and very nervous,

especially when he has his attacks, finds fault with the children and

insults me. You know very well that under such conditions no one can do

any teaching. The child does not respect the teacher from that moment

when he sees him mistreated by some one else without maintaining his

rights. The teacher, if he is to be listened to, or if his authority

is not to be doubted, needs prestige, a good name, moral strength, and

a certain amount of freedom. If you will allow me, I will give you an

illustration. I wished to introduce some reforms and they laughed at

me. In order to remedy the evil that I spoke of a moment ago, I tried

to teach the children Spanish, because, not only does the Government

order it, but because it will be a great advantage for them to know

the language. I employed the simplest method, used simple phrases

and nouns without making use of hard rules, with the expectation of

teaching them the grammar as soon as they had learned the language. At

the end of several weeks, almost all the smarter ones in the school

understood me and were able to compose phrases in Castellano."

The teacher stopped and seemed to be in doubt. Then, as if he had

made up his mind, he began again.

"I ought not to be ashamed of the history of my grievances. If any one

had been in my place, he would have had the same story to tell. As I

was saying, I began well. Several days later the priest, who was then

Father Damaso, sent the sacristan mayor to tell me that he wanted to

see me. As I knew his character and was afraid to make him wait for

me, I went up immediately, saluted him and said good morning to him in

Spanish. As was customary, when I saluted him, I advanced to kiss the

hand which he held out, but just at that moment he withdrew it and,

without replying to me, began to chuckle scoffingly. I was naturally

disconcerted, and it was all done in the presence of the sacristan

mayor. At the moment, I did not know what to say. I stood and looked

at him while he went on laughing. I had already become impatient

and saw that I was on the point of committing an indiscretion. All

of a sudden, he stopped laughing and added insult to injury. With a

cunning air, he said to me: 'So it is buenos dias, eh? buenos dias,

ha, ha! How funny! Why, you know how to speak Spanish, do you?' And

then he continued his laugh."

Ibarra could not keep back his smile.

"You laugh," replied the teacher, also smiling. "I confess that I did

not feel like smiling at that time. I felt the blood rush to my head,

and a thunderbolt seemed to dazzle my brain. I saw the priest far off,

very far from me. I started toward him to reply. The sacristan mayor

interposed and said very seriously, in Tagalog: 'You want to stop

wearing borrowed clothes. Be content to speak in your own language and

do not spoil Spanish, which is not meant for you. You have heard about

Ciruela? Well, Ciruela was a teacher who did not know how to read,

but he taught school.' I wanted to detain him for a moment, but he

went quickly into his room and closed the door violently. What was I

to do? In order to collect my salary I have to have the approval of

the priest on my bill, and have to make a journey to the capital of

the province. What could I do to him-the moral, political and civil

authority of the town, sustained by his corporation, feared by the

Government, rich, powerful, always consulting, advising, listening,

believing and attending to everything-what could I do to him? If

he insulted me, I had to keep my mouth closed. If I talked back,

he would throw me out of work, spoiling my career. And what good

would it do-education? On the contrary, everybody would take up the

priest's side of the matter; they would criticise me, they would call

me vain, proud, arrogant, a poor Christian, poorly educated, and when

not this, they would call me an anti-Spaniard and an agitator. The

school teacher should have no authority. He should only be lazy,

humble, and resigned to his low position. May God pardon me if I do not

speak conscientiously and truthfully, but I was born in this country,

I have to live, I have a mother to support and I have to be resigned

to my lot."

"And have you continued to be discouraged on account of this

trouble? Have you attempted nothing since?"

"Would to God that it had ended there!" he replied. "Would to God that

that had been the end of my misfortunes. The truth is that from that

day I began to take a dislike to my profession. Every day the school

brought to my mind my disgrace and made every hour a bitter one for

me. But what could I do? I could not disappoint my mother. I had to

tell her that the three years of sacrifices which she had made for me

in order that I might learn the profession now made me happy. I had

to make her believe that the profession was a most honorable one, that

the work was most pleasant, that the road was strewn with flowers and

that the fulfillment of my duty produced nothing but friendships. If

I had told her the contrary, I myself would still be as unhappy and

would only make another unhappy, which was not only useless but a

sin. So, I kept at my work and tried not to be discouraged. I tried

to fight it down."

The school teacher made a short pause and then began again.

"You know that the books in most of the schools are in Spanish,

excepting the Tagalog catechism, which varies according to the

corporation which appoints the priest of the parish. The books

generally used in the school are novenaries, the 'Doxology' and

Father Astete's catechism, which are no more edifying than the

books of heretics. On account of the fact that it was impossible to

teach the children Spanish, as I wanted to do, and owing to the fact

that I could not translate so many books into the native language,

I decided to try to substitute for them gradually, short verses,

extracts from the best Tagalog books, such as the 'Treatise on

Urbanity' by Hortensio y Feliza, and some of the little pamphlets on

agriculture. Sometimes I myself translated small works, such as the

'History of the Philippines,' by Father Barranera, and afterward

dictated to the pupils for their note books, adding at times some

of my own observations. As I had no maps to teach them geography,

I copied one of those of the province which I saw in the capital,

and with this reproduction and, by the aid of the tiles on the floor,

I was able to give them some ideas about the country. The new priest

sent for me. Although he did not reprimand me severely, he told me,

however, that my first duty was to teach religion, and that before I

began to teach any such things I must prove by an examination that all

the children knew by heart the 'Mysteries,' the 'Doxology,' and the

'Catechism of the Christian Doctrine.'

"So, in the meantime, I am endeavoring to convert the children into

parrots so that they will know by heart all of these things of which

they do not understand a single word. Many of the pupils already

know the 'Mysteries' and the 'Doxology,' but I fear that I am making

Father Astete's efforts useless, inasmuch as my pupils do not even

distinguish between the questions and the answers, or what either

of them signifies. Thus we shall die and thus shall do those who are

yet to be born; yet in Europe they talk about Progress!"

"Let us not be so pessimistic," replied Ibarra, rising to his

feet. "The teniente mayor has invited me to attend a town meeting to

be held in the tribunal. Who knows but that some plan for improvement

may there be adopted!"

The school teacher arose to go, shaking his head in token of doubt.