The rainy season arrived like clockwork—cool mornings, grey skies, and the smell of damp soil mixing with the scent of freshly waxed classroom floors. The break was short, but long enough for Sir Emman to recharge—just enough time to breathe before the next current began.
It was the first day of classes once again at Jose Rizal High School, and Emman stood by the gates, clipboard in hand, just like he had the year before. But this time, something was different. He wasn't just a returning teacher—he was a teacher known. Recognized. Respected.
But fame didn't change him. What grounded Emman was purpose—and it was back to business.
Classroom Reset
Room TLE 103 had been scrubbed clean and rearranged. The workbenches were neatly aligned, new electrical panel boards installed, and color-coded wires stocked in labeled bins. The school had approved his request to expand the simulation wall space, which now stretched across the entire back wall—five meters long, ready for new installations.
On the board, written in his signature neat handwriting:
"Welcome, Future Electricians – You are wired for purpose."
He stared at it for a moment, then underlined the last three words.
He placed a quote just below it:
"You don't need to be perfect to be powerful. You only need to be grounded."
Section 10-EIM: The Next Generation
By 8:15 a.m., the new batch started trickling in.
Fresh-faced, unsure, eyes wide.
Some of them looked like they'd rather be anywhere else. Others immediately inspected the wiring kits with eager hands.
Emman greeted each of them at the door. "Good morning. I'm Sir Emman. This will be your workshop, your classroom, and maybe your second home—if you let it."
A few nodded. A few avoided eye contact. It was all familiar.
He noticed one boy, Noel, sitting quietly in the farthest corner, arms folded. His uniform was oversized, his shoes worn out.
Another student, Mariel, was scribbling in a notebook before class even began. She wore thick glasses and already had color-coded post-its stuck inside her notebook with titles like "Safety Protocols" and "Installation Rules."
Then there was Bryce—a tall, lanky teen who looked like he'd mistakenly enrolled in EIM instead of basketball. His friends laughed loudly as they entered, drawing unnecessary attention.
Emman smiled to himself. The personalities were already forming like a circuit: the resistor, the conductor, the breaker, the transformer.
He clapped his hands once and started.
The Opening Talk
"Raise your hand if you chose EIM because you want to become an electrician."
A few hands went up.
"Raise your hand if you chose EIM because you didn't get your first choice."
More hands rose.
Some students laughed nervously.
"Good. Now, raise your hand if you have no idea what you're doing here."
Several hands hesitantly joined.
Emman smiled.
"Perfect. That means we're starting exactly where we need to—with honesty."
He paused, walking to the center.
"This room is more than wiring, switches, and voltage testers. It's where we'll learn how to build not just circuits—but confidence. Not just electrical plans—but life plans."
A few eyes began to focus. Even Bryce stopped slouching.
"I'm not here to judge your past. I'm here to build your future—with you."
Then he handed out a one-page paper titled: "My Power Source"
It was a personal worksheet: questions like
Who or what powers you?
What do you fear?
What do you hope this class gives you?
He gave them 10 minutes to write quietly. Even Noel started writing slowly.
The First Practical: The Power in a Bulb
After the discussion, Emman introduced their very first hands-on task.
"Today, we're going to make your first working circuit. Simple lang—isang light bulb, isang switch, isang power source."
They gathered around the central table as he demonstrated. The wires were stripped neatly, color-coded, the circuit loop complete.
With a flick of the switch, the bulb lit.
Gasps. Wide eyes. One or two claps.
"Electricity is invisible," Emman said. "But when you connect the right pieces… you feel it."
He divided them into small groups, each one given a basic wiring kit.
Mariel took the lead in her group, reading the instructions carefully. Noel worked silently, but he was meticulous. Bryce? He connected the wires backward, causing a minor spark.
"Oy, careful!" Emman called out.
"Sorry, Sir!" Bryce said, laughing.
Emman walked over calmly. "Don't be sorry. Be better. That's why we practice."
They restarted. And by the end of the hour, every bulb in the room was lit.
Not just literally—but emotionally. Something in the room had clicked.
They could do this.
Lunch Break with Memories
In the canteen, Sir Emman sat with a few fellow TLE teachers. Over pancit and iced tea, he shared how the new batch was shaping up.
"Same challenges. Different names," he said with a chuckle.
Mrs. Santos, the ICT teacher, asked, "Do you still miss your old class?"
He nodded slowly. "Every day. But that's the thing about teaching. You're constantly unplugging from one batch and rewiring for the next."
They all laughed in agreement.
Just then, a knock came at the canteen's back entrance.
"Sir Emman?"
It was Leo, one of last year's graduates. He was in a work uniform from a local contractor.
"I just came from an on-site project nearby. I thought I'd drop this off."
He handed Emman a brown envelope.
Inside was a photo—Leo wiring an actual panel, with a caption: "Because of you, I'm here now."
Emman placed it gently inside his journal.
Back to Class: Grounding the Future
The afternoon session began with the basics of electrical safety—PPE, first aid for electric shock, proper posture, and tool maintenance.
Emman walked around as they practiced coiling extension cords, identifying live wires, and reading simple circuit diagrams.
Then came a short pop quiz. Nothing fancy. Just ten items.
But what mattered wasn't the score. It was what Emman said after:
"These ten questions don't define your future. But how seriously you approach them says a lot about how far you'll go."
The Closing Bell
At 3:30 p.m., the bell rang. First day—done.
Students gathered their things, still buzzing from the day. Some were laughing. Some were exhausted. But almost all of them looked… connected.
Before they left, Emman called out:
"Don't forget your journals! Tomorrow, we wire again!"
As they exited, Noel—the quiet boy—paused.
"Sir…"
"Yes?"
"Thanks for not laughing at my handwriting."
Emman smiled. "You wrote what mattered. That's what counts."
Evening Reflections
Back in his small apartment, Emman poured himself a cup of salabat and sat by the window. The rain had begun to fall again—soft, rhythmic.
He opened his journal and wrote:
Chapter 23 – New Batch
Each wire starts raw, twisted, uncertain.
But when it finds connection, it serves.
These students—my new current.
I will teach them safety, structure, and spark.
But more importantly, I will teach them to believe.
The voltage returns.
Emman