Reporting for duty in the Storm: The Role of Teachers When It Matters Most
When bad weather looms, parents naturally worry. Their children’s safety is paramount, and many weigh carefully whether to send them to school. Understandably, schools respect this discretion. After all, not all families experience a rainy day the same way. Some students ride comfortably in cars, others walk long distances, cross rivers, or live in areas prone to landslides or flash floods. In the Cordillera region, heavy rains—even without storm signals—can quickly lead to dangerous road conditions, swelling rivers, or soil erosion. These realities call for wise and compassionate action.
In these moments, teachers are reminded to extend compassion, to understand missed attendance, to be lenient with deadlines, and to meet learners where they are.
But amid these varied student experiences lies another silent reality: the teachers.
Teachers, too, are human. We check the skies, the road conditions, and worry about our own families. We think of the homes we leave behind, the uncertain trails we traverse, and the children we may also be sending to school elsewhere. Many of us are parents ourselves. And yet, when no official class suspension is declared, teachers are still expected to report for duty—if they safely can. Because in the eyes of our learners and the community we serve, our role doesn’t end when the weather turns gloomy.
This is not a call to override safety. We recognize that not all teachers are in the same situation. Many live in isolated barangays where rivers rise quickly or roads become impassable. The decision to stay home must always be rooted in sound judgment, and no teacher should be put at risk. But when conditions are manageable and travel is safe, our presence in school becomes a quiet yet powerful act of service.
Like health workers, firefighters, and other essential public servants, we serve at the frontline, though often less visibly. The classroom becomes a shelter, not just for learning, but also for stability and reassurance. Even if only a few students arrive, their effort to show up deserves to be met with the same dedication.
Having spent years in public education, I’ve come to believe this: it’s not always the lesson plan that matters most on stormy days. Sometimes, it’s simply that learners see someone waiting for them—that they are not alone in their effort to learn, even when the world feels uncertain.
Some may ask, “What if my child is studying elsewhere?” And it’s a question many educators, myself included, quietly wrestle with. But this is where the beauty of shared responsibility comes in. The public education system functions on mutual trust—that while I am caring for my students here, someone else is doing the same for my child over there. We are part of an unspoken web of protection and guidance.
This is not about downplaying family duty or glorifying hardship. It’s about embracing our role with purpose. Teaching is not just a job—it is a vocation, a calling to serve even when it’s inconvenient. It’s a trust that must sometimes endure through unpredictable weather, both literal and metaphorical.
So let us continue to strike that balance: to care for our families, while remaining mindful of the learners entrusted to us. To be prudent when needed, and present when possible. Because on days when learners brave the rain, what they remember most may not be the lesson—they may remember the teacher who welcomed them with warmth, calm, and dedication.
We are not just employees. We are protectors, guides, and steady hands in times of uncertainty. And when the storm rages outside, it is often the teacher’s presence that brings peace inside the classroom.
We are, simply and powerfully, teachers.
MARIA TERESA B. MACASINAG,
Rizal National High School, Baguio City
