gossip, bragging, or worse, violent brawls and riots. They spent their days with nothing better to do. But with ALS, the
A TEACHER IN PRISON Irene Barzaga ”Whether you are teaching young students or prisoners, always teach with a heart. It makes all the difference.” Irene Barzaga is assigned to teach in one of the most crowded jails in the Philippines. There, she has touched and transformed a lot of lives—she gave the prisoners a sense of freedom to hope and dream more.
PHOTO FROM IRENE BARZAGA
As a child I would play “teacherteacheran.” That’s what I love to play when I was a child. A make-believe teacher. While growing up in the province, I looked up high to teachers. My aunts were teachers in Manila. Every time they would visit us, I would look at them in awe and say “Gusto ko rin ng ganyang buhay.” (I want that kind of life) It was by accident when I entered the Alternative Learning System (ALS). I majored in Industrial Education, but early in my career I received a training as ALS instructional manager. I was the youngest in our group then. I just thought of getting some work experience through ALS. This was in 2002. But when I started meeting the ALS students, my perspective changed.
I felt I was needed there. I realized the value of what I was doing to them. I realized I could give hope. So I decided to stay. In 2004, I got the position as a mobile teacher. After 6 months, I was assigned at the Quezon City Jail. As a mobile teacher, I go and teach where I am needed. So when I was first assigned to prison, I went there to teach. I took the adventure. And all of my students are prisoners. I never felt afraid. I treat them just like an average neighbor or a newfound friend, without having any label or presumptions about them and their past. I think of them as my tropa, (my buddies), and I interact with them.
1
For 6 months we studied together. I found them very cooperative. I taught them the basics on reading writing, and they all studied with the intention of graduating. Eventually, 13 of my 30 students graduated from ALS. In the outside world, graduating from school is so ordinary. But in prison, every graduate is a major achievement. It was my achievement, too. And yet, even for those who did not graduate, I think graduation matters less than to see them transformed individuals after ALS. That for me is also an achievement. But I think my greatest accomplishments as an ALS teacher can only be told through the stories of my learners. Every prisoner-learner has a story and I am given the opportunity as an ALS teacher to be part of those stories. My prisoner students would tell me that before studying at ALS, they would just hang out engaging in mindless talk, gossip, bragging, or worse, violent brawls and riots. They spent their days with nothing better to do. But with ALS, they now have something to look forward to each day, something meaningful to do for themselves. ALS gives the prisoners a sense of dignity. I would ask them to write an essay about their dream. One wrote he wanted to be a barangay tanod (peace keeping and security officer in a village) to help the community. It sounds so simple, but to prisoners it is a big deal. It is always every prisoner’s dream to become a productive member of the society. I have another learner whose relatives never visited him. But for his graduation, we went out of our way to invite his grandmother to do the honor of putting on his medal. Finally, he graduated from elementary.
2
Another learner hid from his family the truth about his being imprisoned. The parents didn’t know, except his brother. Because of that, nobody visited him. With no family to support him, ALS became his family. ALS saved him from boredom and thoughts of killing himself. Some prisoners studied in college before being jailed. ALS has become a way for them to teach their fellow inmates. They have become teaching assistant, and this gives them a sense of accomplishment and pride. Some of my learners are now working abroad. They would sometimes email me just to thank me. They would say, “Ma’am, salamat pinagtiyagaan mo ko.” (Thank you for not being patient with us.) When I started as a young mobile teacher, I remember being aggressive. I wanted so much to share what I know and to give everything to the learners. After many years, I have realized that nothing has so much changed. All the negative experiences are overshadowed by the positive ones; and these are the stories of my learners. Now, when I get my salary, I think of my learners. I would buy food for them just so I could give them something. Again, it sounds so common. But in prison, learners appreciate this a lot. I would attend training or volunteer somewhere or serve as a resource speaker so I can continuously improve myself. My dream is to further expand and help ALS perhaps through the use of technology such as web conferencing.
Today, aside from teaching in prison, I’m also teaching in elementary school, and currently practices SPED. I also serve as coordinator for District 3 and 5 of the Division of City Schools in Quezon City. I’m a teacher but I don’t mind being in prison. I have taught inside the prison cell for 10 years now. Inside the prison cell, I found freedom. I have learned to know myself more, that I judge people less, especially those I teach in prison. Over the years, I have become a creative and innovative teacher. In my own little way, I give my ALS learners this sense of freedom to hope more and dream more.
READ MORE STORIES ON INCLUSIVE EDUCATION
https://seameo-innotech.odoo.com/
