QUEZON CITY—"Bilog! Bilog! Bilog na bilog! (A circle! A very circular circle!" the children of Pinyahan village in the Diliman area here in Quezon City sing as they form a circle and get ready for class to begin.
After one of the students leads the class in morning prayer, they sing the "Chikadee Song" or others they learned in previous meetings. Then, with spirits high and eyes wide open, they proceed to the day's lessons.
One teacher begins to collect the children's homework. She need not ask them twice—they reach into their envelopes and proudly pull out their work.
"They really work on their assignments and even do more than we ask of them," says Garette de Paz, a volunteer teacher. "But sometimes we also get disappointed when they turn in their homework and you can obviously see that it was 'Nanay' (mother) who did it," adds Laila Estrella, another teacher who heads the team at the San Vicente community nearby.
In the regular monthly Parent-Teacher meetings, Laila reminds mothers to guide their children through their homework, but also cautions them from doing the children's homework themselves. After all, it is the child's homework, not his or her mommy's.
Parents are also encouraged to listen to their children's stories when they come home from school.
There are three teachers for each of the five communities where this special education programme takes place. They take turns instructing the children in the 4 R's of learning: Reading, wRiting, aRithmetic—and Child Rights.
Unlike the curriculum in most formal learning institutions, the basic literacy programme called Aral-aralang Handog Para sa mga Bata (Lessons for the Children), which provides alternative education, has at its core the United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child.
As Garette points out, "We don't just teach them how to read, write, and count. It is important to instill values and make them aware of their rights as children."
At sixteen, Garette herself is still a child. But as the programme seeks and provides alternatives, being young does not exclude anyone who is willing and able to impart knowledge.
The teachers have also identified effective teaching methods for children; "We read stories to them, at least once a week. And then we'd have a sharing session about how they relate to the story. You'd be surprised that they already have a concept of their rights," explains Julie Hementera, a University of the Philippines student who also volunteers to teach in the community around the University of the Philippines campus.
"They'd even tell you that children don't belong in the streets. They say children will get hungry there, and get sick," Julie says.
The five to nine year-old students not only become aware of their inherent rights, but also of their corresponding responsibilities. By raising their awareness of their rights and keeping them tuned in to education, the young people behind the programme also aim to prevent the students from falling into the trap of commercial sexual exploitation and other forms of abuse and destructive lifestyles.
Meantime, Garette and her fellow teachers in Pinyahan, Florence and Jess, catch their breath while they watch the children find their own comfortable space on the floor to work on writing exercises and activities.
The children don't mind soiling their clothes, as long as they finish what teacher asked of them.
The schoolroom is just big enough to accommodate 20 small children, their teachers, and their small chairs. Some children climb up the windows of the schoolroom or sit at the steps of a narrow stairway to a nearby house just to watch and somehow participate in the lessons.
Passersby often stop to look into the room, as other neighbours crank up the volume of their karaokes and sing along with their favourite artists.
In short, teaching very young kids in the middle of a busy community can be very challenging. "You must be creative," suggests Garette, "otherwise, you'll run out (of ideas)."
At first the volunteer teachers and organisers of 'Aral-aralan', who are all members of the Young People Against Commercial Sexual Exploitation of Children (YP-ACSEC), were apprehensive about getting into this teaching work.
"I felt pressured, we had to make sure that they learn something from us," says Analyn Hernandez, 17. "Strategy is the key," adds Julie, "we had to find a way to sustain the children's attention."
Being young themselves, and with their experience in facilitating workshops for children and youth, these young people were able to develop teaching methods that don't only get the subject matter across but also lets children be children.
Parents say they are grateful for the opportunity for their children to learn. As 'Aral-aralan' is a programme for indigent children, most of the students are of school age but out-of-school because of poverty.
"You can't really blame the parents for not sending their children to school," explains Sophia Lloren, a parent. "It's very expensive. There are school supplies and food to think about. The children can't learn with empty stomachs."
Apart from poverty, other reasons that keep children from school are medical conditions and learning or developmental difficulties.
"One of our students was refused entry in a public school because she has epilepsy," Sophia shares. "But you see, in the four months since we started, she has not had an attack in class and has never been absent."
In Pinyahan, nine-year-old Rowen (not her real name) should already be in the third grade but is still with the programme because her asthmatic condition prevented her from attending regular school.
There is also a special child enrolled in the programme. "Her parents did not enroll her in a regular school because they will just call her 'abnormal'," says Julie, "but she's very eager to learn and we want to help her continue to study."
Mothers of students at the UP campus community are also involved their kids' education - they have organised themselves and help cleaning the schoolroom before and after each class.
"The parents are a big help, they help make life easier for us," Garette says. "It is also very flattering that though we are much younger than they are, they treat us with respect and they trust us with the education of their children," adds Julie.
After their classes, the young teachers are exhausted and troop to the ECPAT-Philippines office. Teaching young children, even for only two days a week, takes up a lot of time and energy. "Wednesdays and Saturdays are usually the only days I can visit the library to do research for school requirements," Julie narrates.
These teachers juggle the different roles they play: being students themselves, teachers, sons and daughters, plus their responsibilities in other programmes, and their social lives.
They say they have learned so much from the children—as their students grow, so do they. "They believe everything we say," shares Sophia. "It does not matter to them that we are not 'real' teachers, that we don't hold degrees. They accept what we can offer, and they also give us everything they can."
The children have also taught these young teachers the importance of education, how it seems so valued by those who are deprived of it, and how others who have access to it just throw their chance away.
As the programme nears its end this December, the teachers evaluate each child with the hopes of placing everyone in mainstream/regular or special schools.
After class, as the last student is picked up by his mother, teachers Garette, Florence and Jess come out from the alley on their way to the office. Suddenly, they hear voices calling out to them, "Teacher, teacher! This is where we live!" There, on the pavement in the middle of road, lived a number of their students, in pushcarts, pedicabs, straw mats and cardboard boxes, yelling: "Take care, Teacher!"
(Vera Ocampo, 20, is a graduating student in psychology from the University of the Philippines. She is a member of the Young People against Commercial
Sexual Exploitation of Children.)
