My reclassification journey was one of the most challenging yet faith-affirming experiences of my teaching career. From start to finish, I could truly say that it was not my own strength that carried me through—it was God’s.

Open Ranking

I remember feeling so anxious during the open ranking. Most of my certificates were about mental health, guidance and counseling, and youth leadership. I was worried because they were not directly related to classroom teaching, and I feared they might not be credited. Still, I stood my ground and tried to explain how those trainings shaped me as a teacher—how they helped me connect better with students and support their well-being.

Unfortunately, my first assessor didn’t accept my explanation. I felt defeated and almost lost hope. But then, God intervened. The session with that assessor was unexpectedly cut short, and I was reassigned to another one. This new assessor, together with another reviewer, carefully went through my certificates and decided that my trainings were indeed valuable and relevant. What I expected to earn only 4 points became a perfect 10 points. That moment reminded me that when things don’t go as planned, it’s because God has a better plan waiting.

Teaching Demonstration

My next challenge came during my teaching demonstration. I was down with a high fever caused by tonsillitis, and speaking was painful. To make things worse, I realized I had forgotten to bring the materials I prepared for the student activity. I felt weak, unprepared, and nervous.

But again, God strengthened me. Despite the pain in my throat, I managed to teach with enthusiasm. I felt His presence giving me energy and clarity. Halfway through my lesson, my observer stopped me and said, “You don’t need to continue—I’m already impressed.” He gave me a perfect score. I was speechless, not because of pride, but because I knew it was God who made it possible.

Portfolio Annotations and Behavioral Interview

When it was time for the portfolio annotation and behavioral interview, I noticed many around me were cramming and seemed very tense. But I felt calm. It was as if God was whispering, “You’ve done your part; trust Me with the rest.” I finished my annotations early and confidently.

During my interview, I was blessed with a kind and friendly interviewer. She listened attentively, smiled often, and later told me she was impressed with how I expressed my thoughts. I received another perfect score.

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Looking back, I realize that every step of this journey was guided by God’s hand. When I was weak, He gave me strength. When I was uncertain, He provided clarity. And when I felt discouraged, He reminded me that His timing is always perfect.

My reclassification journey was more than just a professional milestone—it was a testimony of faith. God didn’t just help me pass; He showed me that with Him, even the impossible becomes possible.

When I think of my childhood, I think of her—my grandmother. She was my safe place in a world that sometimes felt too cruel for a child. Whenever my mother’s anger found its way to me, I would run to my grandmother’s arms, trembling and crying. She would hold me close, shielding me as if her embrace could stop all the pain. And in many ways, it did.

She was more than a grandmother; she was my protector, my comfort, and my first glimpse of unconditional love. She cared for me in quiet but powerful ways. Every time she visited our home, she never came empty-handed. Before she left, she would press a small bill into my palm, whispering, “Ayaw ipakita sa mama nimo ha,” her eyes full of love and mischief.

She knew my fondness for animals, so sometimes she would bring me a live bird—a small, fluttering gift that made me feel seen and special. I remember her smile as she handed it to me, her eyes lighting up at my joy. She had so little, yet she gave so much.

When I reached high school, she sold her pig just to buy me new clothes. I didn’t fully understand then what sacrifice meant. Only now do I realize how much she gave up for me—how she chose my happiness over her own comfort.

As the years passed, I grew older and life became heavier. When she fell sick, I wanted to give back even a fraction of what she gave me—but I couldn’t. I had nothing to offer but my presence, and even that felt too little. I watched her grow weaker, and the guilt grew stronger inside me.

Now, I often find myself wishing I could turn back time—to hug her longer, to tell her how much she meant to me, to show her the love she deserved. If only I could go back, I would make sure she knew that everything I am today is because of her.

She may be gone, but her love remains—the kind of love that never fades, the kind that built the person I’ve become.

My grandmother was my protector. My safe haven. My heart’s first home.