[OPINION] A teacher’s life, from the point of view of her red ballpen

I’m here to tell you about this woman. She’s been around my kind for a long while, so the red ballpens from long ago know of her, and I suspect the red ballpens that will come long after I’m used up will still get to meet her. 

There are quite a number of us in her pen holder, and boy are there stories to tell: the many times we were used to check her students’ papers, the perfect scores always punctuated with a star and a “Great job!” added in for good measure.

We were also there for the many times that the scores were not so good, even when ovals were drawn instead of stars. We would hear her disappointed sighs, and watch her frown and pout, because that could mean anything from frustration that her students didn’t try hard enough, or guilt that maybe she hadn’t done enough for them to understand the lesson.

These papers were often hidden in the back of their accordion envelopes until they were replaced by better scores. There was always some form of eye contact when these were given back, an unspoken inquiry on her part and a quiet promise on her student’s part to do better.

But even better than these papers were her students’ journals. We, her red pens, communicated her compassion and commiseration to her students, with their stories of young love and the simple joys of youth, as well as the regret and misery that accompanied heartbreak and the impatience of adolescence.

She made sure she wrote messages that always shared in their delight, and encouraged them to see the brighter side of things when the bad times came around. We’d be surprised that the kids would continue to do this even with the advent of online chats. I guess nothing beats the written word, and the effort spent letting them know that no matter what happens, they matter.

Our friends, the black pens, tell us, “Oh we have a better job than you guys.” That’s when I learned that she would also regularly write notes to her students, to wish them continued blessings at Christmas and also at the end of the school year, to wish them luck as they left her classroom and continued on their journey of learning. I admit, I was kind of envious for a while, but as I looked around her desk, there were as many red ballpens as any other kind, so that got me thinking that we had our own mission to accomplish.

Personal battle

And yes, as she grew older, so did her students, and we were used to grade longer, more complicated papers that tackled darker and more serious topics. And we, her red ballpens, were still around, guiding her almost adult wards to think more critically, especially in a world that was increasingly hostile to reason and good judgement and principled opinions.

Every comment that said, “Cite your sources,” “Explain this more substantially,” and “Make your points clear,” on the margins of a paper meant she required additional thought and reflection.

By now we understood that we were part of her personal battle against the ever-growing tide of misinformation and false facts, which led to wrong values and ultimately, a corrupted soul. This was the only way she could fight; in her own way, the wrongs could be made right. This would be accompanied with fervent prayers that when her students grew up, they would be bearers of light.  

One time, a co-teacher told her, “Why are you still using red pens? They give off a negative vibe, of correction and mistakes.”

She didn’t have to answer, because I knew. She still uses red ballpens because red is the color of the only thing that kept her going all these years. One simply cannot stay this long in this profession if it were not for sheer, genuine love. – Rappler.com

Rosanna Mallillin-Borja has been a teacher for 31 years at the Ateneo de Manila University, and has taught Grade 3 all the way to Grade 12.