Paint-brush.

(From Philippine Daily Inquirer)

Byline: Ladylou D. Sepe

"How could she not let me teach?" I raged inside my head as I left her office that morning. I just could not understand my principal. My brains would calcify if I didn't have anything to do for the summer.

I teach grade-school children in a big, private university. I love my job and I love the school where I teach and the people I work with. And yes, the school pays well.

Late last March I got an invitation from another school to teach conversational English. This school was offering a refresher course for those who wanted to be professional care givers abroad. I would be teaching in modules and classes would be held at a time I found convenient. I understood that my students would be bank employees, nurses and teachers like myself. I found the job very challenging, and the next day, I went to our principal's office to tell her, as a matter of courtesy, that I was accepting the invitation. Ours is a tiny city, and she would have known about it from someone else anyway.

"No, it is not okay if you teach," she said in a tone that conveyed the futility of further argument. "The school is paying you to have a rest and enjoy the summer."

I gathered myself up and left her office fuming. I went straight home and slept forever. I completely lost track of time. One time I got out of bed, intending to have my lunch. I wondered why it was so dark and quiet at home. It was one in the morning. And this went on for ages.