(image: youtube.com)
When one of my students uses cuss words, I do not
simply let them pass. I reprimand them because words carry biblical, moral, and
social implications. When disrespect happens, I raise my voice in protest
because silence is not always civility. I also call the attention of girls who
scream unnecessarily or dress inappropriately within the school campus, not to
police their individuality, but to remind them that freedom must be accompanied
by responsibility and that education must also cultivate decency.
I teach my learners to uphold dignity, embody respect,
and practice decency.
When the Ateneo de Zamboanga school shooting made
national headlines, Palace Press Officer Claire Castro drew criticism after
remarks that included the statement that some teachers “teach their students
how to be disrespectful, particularly toward elders or other people.” She later
explained that her remarks were intended to emphasize the role of teachers in
shaping character. Still, the statement prompted strong reactions from
educators, particularly in the context of an already painful conversation about
school safety.
“Walang modo.” In English, uncouth. The irony is worth
reflecting upon. In our effort to teach young people how to behave with
respect, we must also be mindful of how we speak about those entrusted with
educating them.
Based on my experience in the classroom, there was
never a time when I deliberately taught disrespect or ill manners to my
learners. In fact, I have heard fellow teachers express their frustrations over
learners who display poor manners and disrespect, experiences that can be
emotionally and physically draining.
As a social researcher, I would find it difficult to
formulate a sound hypothesis that teachers, as a group, teach ill manners to
their learners. Such a premise appears too simplistic to explain a behavior
shaped by many influences, including family, peers, community, culture, media,
and the school environment. Any claim of causation, therefore, deserves
evidence rather than assumption.
Claire Castro is a lawyer, and her public role also
carries an expectation of careful reasoning and contextual sensitivity,
particularly when statements are delivered from a government podium. In a
subsequent press conference, she clarified that she was referring to particular
teachers who, according to her explanation, were facing legal action or
investigation in connection with social media posts involving the President.
That clarification provides important context. Yet it
also leaves a broader question worth asking: when words are spoken publicly,
especially during a sensitive national conversation, should intent alone
determine how they are received? Public statements carry consequences beyond
what the speaker may have intended.
The situation may be viewed through the lens of
scapegoating, a process in which blame for broader social problems is displaced
onto a particular individual or group. It would be premature to conclusively
label the remarks as scapegoating. Still, attributing learners’ behavioral
problems primarily to teachers, without sufficient empirical evidence, risks
reducing a complex social phenomenon to a convenient target of blame (Allport,
1954/1979; Glick, 2005).
Filipino teachers deserve better. They are already
carrying classrooms, paperwork, remediation, administrative responsibilities,
and the countless demands that extend beyond the teaching of lessons. Their
work requires patience, emotional strength, and an enduring commitment to
children, often amid pressures that the public does not always see.
To question their commitment without examining the
larger environment that shapes a child's behavior is unfair and overly
simplistic. Teachers should not be convenient targets in conversations about
problems that society collectively has a responsibility to address.
Our teachers do not need blame thrown at them. They
need trust, support, protection, and recognition. After all, the work of
raising a generation has never been theirs to carry alone.


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