03/10/2025
LITERARY | There Is a Light That Never Goes Out
Amidst the cold confines of our world, there is a light that continues to blaze. The ones who hold the beacon, are sometimes the ones who run out of wax to burn. Yet, they somehow find ways just to keep the light burning. His story, is one of many but beyond ordinary.
From the sinew of his classroom, Mr. Santos has sunken depths beneath his eyes but wears a smile so succulent, it's beyond measure. He starts class while wearing the same smile, a striking contrast to the tired expression he wore the night before.
Class is enthusiastic, class is attentive. Yet there is anything but that. Class is loud, Class is chaotic, energy draining.
"Okay class, let's begin", he says cheerfully. They somehow settle and discussion begins. As he starts drying his mouth of saliva, voice swallowed by hoarseness, he starts teaching the way he always did. Doing what he loves most, but somehow it goes unappreciated. Class goes back to being loud, overpowering his voice. "Children please minimize your noise", he says pursing a smile so he wouldn't seem aggressive.
They did what was said, he goes back to teaching. He starts explaining what the class is supposed to be listening to, what the class should be paying attention to. But there it was again. Laughs, chatter, snickers, it was a breaking point. He tries to cope with the suffocating noise, but it was no use. He saw his sanity breaking from a mile away.
His resolve falls. They all see it, as if a great tragedy is unfolding before them. Mr. Santos' succulent smile is replaced with a distasteful glace.
Now, they all sit quietly. The silence was deafening, his expression unchanging. He was holding his last bit of patience, all the stress, all the tiredness, that was pent up is now like a broken dam gushing out of control. He sighs heavily, and looks at his students. His eyes were watery, as he looks around. Their heads were now looking down on their desks, as if it was calling for their attention. With all the weight on his shoulders, he drops them. Sobbing gently, as he gets consumed by all the problems he's had no time to deal with.
They look up, to an image so commending. Until he finally spoke. "All I ask of you is to listen to me. That is all I ask. You won't lose anything? It's a simple request that I ask of you. But why is it so hard to do?", his words struck a painful nerve. It was a reality that they didn't know was real. It was painful, it was actual. The pain in his voice was haunting.
He sobbed, but quickly wiped the tears he'd shed as if it was unnecessary. He started talking again, talking about the topic he was quite eager to share. He started talking, he started doing what he loved most. And they listened, this time with all the attention they could ever humanly have.
His students saw. His eyes were full of joy but empty at the same time. They never really paid attention, not like they even do most of the time. But as if he was a candle with undying wax, he kept pushing through. And for the first time, they were actually enlightened.
His words held meaning, they never realized it. A meaning so harmless and so helpful at the same time. He always meant the best for them.
His light went out momentarily, but there it was again. Burning with a warm surge of passion, as if the mishap didn't matter. It might've been irrevocable, but it was definitely a breath of fresh air. The weight has been lifted, and it is a pause of reminder.
Behind the quaint smiles and cheerful tones, there is always a point that's bound to break and a limit that shouldn't be reached. Everyday, they try and push beyond their limit and extend their patience more. But somehow, it's always bound to be broken. And that's okay.
Mr. Santos, Teachers alike, they hold no bounds. They are humans too. Still, no matter how much time will test them their light still goes on. As if a candle has a finite fuel of wax, and as if a car has a finite fuel of gas. They may have hiccups and their exhaust may go exhausted, but they'll keep pushing. For the love of teaching.
In the cold confines of their rooms, there is warmth. It is their light, and their light that they shine upon their students.
It is the light, that never goes out.
✒️: Gielle Fiona Balanay
🎨: Julius John Gallego
