Chapter 15-The Name on the List
1861 Words
Several months had passed since Lena first walked through the gates of St. Clare Learning Center.
Sometimes, she still remembered that first day.
The nervousness.
The carefully prepared lesson plan.
The way her hands had trembled when she introduced herself to her class.
The strange feeling of hearing thirty young voices call her Ma'am Lena for the first time.
Back then, she had thought she needed to know everything before she could call herself a real teacher.
Now she knew better.
She still made mistakes.
She still asked questions.
She still learned from the teachers around her.
But she was no longer afraid of admitting that she did not know everything.
She had become more comfortable in her classroom.
She knew which learners needed extra time.
She knew who needed encouragement before answering.
She knew when the class was becoming too noisy and when the noise simply meant that the learners were excited about what they were doing.
She had learned to prepare alternative activities when a lesson did not go according to plan.
She had learned to listen to parents.
She had learned to apologize when she made mistakes.
And perhaps most importantly, she had learned that becoming a teacher was not a destination.
It was a process.
Still, one dream had remained unchanged.
DepEd.
Lena had not forgotten it.
She had simply stopped rushing toward it.
When she first passed the LET, she had imagined entering a public school almost immediately.
Then reality had given her another path.
St. Clare had become her training ground.
The salary was small.
The workload was sometimes overwhelming.
The days could be exhausting.
But the experience had given her something she could not have learned from a reviewer or a lecture.
It had given her experience with real learners.
Real classrooms.
Real parents.
Real responsibilities.
Real mistakes.
And now, one ordinary afternoon, that old dream suddenly felt close again.
Lena was checking activity sheets when Teacher Grace entered the teachers' room carrying several papers.
“Have you seen the announcement?”
Lena looked up.
“What announcement?”
Grace placed the papers on the table.
“DepEd.”
Lena's hand stopped moving.
“DepEd?”
Grace nodded.
“They've released an announcement regarding the recruitment and selection process.”
Lena immediately stood.
“Where?”
“On the bulletin board.”
Lena left the room almost immediately.
She walked down the hallway toward the bulletin board.
Several teachers had already gathered there.
Some were reading quietly.
Others were discussing the requirements.
Lena moved closer.
She read the announcement from top to bottom.
Then she read it again.
Her heart began beating faster.
For months, she had told herself she would apply when the opportunity came.
Now it had come.
She suddenly felt nervous.
Not because she did not want it.
Because she wanted it very much.
She stepped away from the bulletin board.
Her phone was already in her hand.
She opened her messages.
Carla, have you seen the DepEd announcement?
The reply came a few minutes later.
YES. I was waiting for you to message me.
Lena smiled.
Are you applying?
The typing indicator appeared.
Then disappeared.
Then appeared again.
Finally:
Of course. Are you?
Lena looked back at the announcement.
She thought about the girl she had been months ago.
The girl who had celebrated passing the LET as if it were the final destination.
She remembered her first lesson plan.
Her first mistake.
Joshua falling asleep in class.
The struggling learner who had written her first complete sentence.
The parent who had complained about classroom cleaning.
The mistake she had admitted instead of hiding.
The nights she had gone home exhausted.
The mornings she had still returned.
She smiled.
Yes. I'm applying.
That evening, Lena spread her documents across the dining table.
Her mother looked at them.
“What are all those?”
“Requirements.”
“For what?”
Lena looked at her.
“DepEd.”
Rosa stopped what she was doing.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Rosa smiled.
“So the dream is calling again.”
Lena laughed.
“Maybe.”
“Are you ready?”
Lena looked at the papers.
“I don't know.”
Her mother sat beside her.
“You don't have to know everything.”
“I just want to do well.”
“You will do your best.”
“What if it's not enough?”
Rosa looked at her daughter.
“Then you learn what you can improve.”
Lena smiled.
“You always say that.”
“Because you always need to hear it.”
Lena laughed softly.
She began arranging her documents.
She checked each requirement carefully.
Birth certificate.
Transcript.
LET documents.
Certificates.
Training records.
Employment-related documents.
She placed everything in order.
Then she stopped.
She looked at the papers from St. Clare.
For a moment, she felt grateful.
This small school had not been the destination she originally imagined.
But it had changed her.
It had taught her how to enter a classroom without fear.
It had taught her how to speak to parents.
It had taught her how to accept correction.
It had taught her that a learner who struggled was not necessarily a learner who did not care.
It had taught her to notice the quiet ones.
It had taught her to ask for help.
And it had taught her that teaching was much harder—and much more meaningful—than she had imagined.
Rosa watched her.
“You're thinking too much again.”
Lena smiled.
“I was just remembering.”
“Remembering what?”
“My first day.”
Rosa nodded.
“You've come a long way.”
Lena looked at the documents again.
“I hope I'm ready for the next one.”
Rosa smiled.
“You'll find out.”
The following weeks became a mixture of preparation and uncertainty.
Lena and Carla helped each other review their documents.
They compared checklists.
They reminded each other about deadlines.
They talked about their hopes.
One afternoon, they met at a small café.
Carla placed her folder on the table.
“Do you think we have a chance?”
Lena smiled.
“I hope so.”
“That is not an answer.”
“Okay. Yes.”
Carla laughed.
“That's better.”
Lena stirred her drink.
“I'm nervous.”
“Me too.”
“What if we don't make it?”
Carla shrugged.
“Then we keep going.”
Lena smiled.
The words sounded familiar.
They reminded her of her mother.
Then you try again.
Maybe that had always been the answer.
Not just for exams.
Not just for applications.
For life.
The application process was not as simple as Lena had imagined.
There were documents to organize.
Forms to complete.
Requirements to review.
Schedules to remember.
Applicants to compare herself with.
Everywhere she looked, there were teachers with different experiences and qualifications.
Some had years of service.
Some had additional training.
Some had impressive credentials.
Lena began comparing herself with everyone.
One afternoon, she looked at a group of applicants and thought:
What if I'm not enough?
She immediately remembered something Teacher Sam had once told her.
Don't measure yourself against someone else's journey.
So she stopped.
She looked at her own journey instead.
She had passed the LET.
She had worked in a real classroom.
She had taught learners with different needs.
She had handled difficult conversations.
She had made mistakes and taken responsibility.
She had learned.
Maybe she was not the most experienced applicant.
Maybe she was not the most qualified in every category.
But she had something too.
Experience that had changed her.
And a reason for wanting to teach that had never disappeared.
One morning, the results of an initial stage were posted.
Lena was not at school when the announcement came.
Carla called her.
“Lena.”
“Yes?”
“Did you see the list?”
“What list?”
“The names.”
Lena's heart skipped.
“Where?”
“It's posted.”
“I'll go there.”
She hurried toward the bulletin board.
Several people were already gathered around it.
She moved through the crowd.
Her eyes traveled down the page.
One name.
Another.
Another.
Her heart beat faster.
She moved lower.
Then stopped.
She saw it.
ELENA MARQUEZ
For a moment, the sounds around her seemed to disappear.
She read the name again.
Then again.
It was really there.
Her name.
She placed a hand over her mouth.
She had made it to the next stage.
It was not yet the position.
It was not the end.
There were still more steps ahead.
But it was something.
A beginning.
Carla stood beside her.
“You made it.”
Lena nodded.
“So did you.”
They looked at each other.
Then they laughed.
For a few seconds, they were the same two girls who had once sat together after passing the LET, wondering what their future would look like.
Only now, they had something they did not have before.
Experience.
That evening, Lena returned home and placed the printed list on the table.
Rosa looked at it.
“Your name?”
Lena nodded.
Rosa smiled.
“I knew you could.”
Lena sat beside her.
“Ma, I'm scared.”
“Why?”
“Because this is getting real.”
Rosa laughed gently.
“Wasn't teaching real?”
“You know what I mean.”
“I do.”
Lena looked at the list.
“What if things change?”
“They will.”
“What if I don't get the position?”
“Then you continue.”
“What if I do?”
Rosa smiled.
“Then you continue.”
Lena laughed.
“You make everything sound so simple.”
“No,” Rosa said. “I just know that whatever happens, you keep moving.”
Lena leaned against her mother's shoulder.
For a moment, she allowed herself to rest.
She thought about how much had changed.
The young woman who once stared at the LET results on a computer screen had been terrified of seeing the word FAILED.
Now, she was staring at her name on another list.
The fear was different.
But so was she.
She had learned that dreams were not always reached in one giant step.
Sometimes they were reached through ordinary days.
Through small decisions.
Through mistakes.
Through patience.
Through continuing when the excitement disappeared.
Through choosing to learn even when learning was uncomfortable.
Lena opened her notebook that night.
She turned to the page where she had written ONE MONTH.
Below it, she added a new line.
I am still learning.
Then she wrote:
And I am still moving forward.
She closed the notebook.
Outside, the evening was quiet.
Tomorrow would bring another school day.
Another lesson.
Another set of responsibilities.
Another reason to keep learning.
And somewhere ahead was the dream she had carried since college.
This time, she would not chase it blindly.
She would walk toward it with everything St. Clare had taught her.
The next bell had not yet rung.
But Lena could already hear it coming.
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