The rhythm of the school year had settled at Jose Rizal High School. The drills whirred on cue, wires were neatly stripped and coiled, and Emman's Grade 10 class—Batch 2025—was proving to be one of the most engaged groups he'd handled yet.
But while things ran smoothly in the workshop, something inside Sir Emman was slipping off balance.
He wore his signature smile, gave sharp instruction, and kept the class energized—but behind that calm surface, he was carrying a quiet storm.
A Hidden Burden
For weeks, Emman had been coming home later than usual—not because of overtime or paperwork, but because his father had fallen seriously ill.
The diagnosis: complications from diabetes. There were hospital visits, prescriptions to fill, diet changes to monitor, and quiet tears shared over late dinners at their modest home.
Emman's mother, a retired teacher herself, tried to hold the house together. But Emman could see the fatigue behind her eyes. It broke him. And he did what he always did when things were hard—he pushed through, buried it deep, and showed up for his students.
But pressure, like current, builds when left unchecked.
The Blowout
On an ordinary Thursday morning, Emman was guiding the class through a wiring simulation for a three-way switch circuit. The air was filled with concentration and soft murmurs—until a sharp spark flared at Station 3.
Dino, a new student and cousin of Bryan from last year's batch, had wired a live conductor straight into the grounding bus.
A loud click!—then darkness. The breaker tripped. The class froze.
Emman rushed over, his voice rising before he could stop it.
"Dino! You skipped the continuity test again! How many times have I said—test first, power later?"
Dino's head dropped, hands shaking slightly.
There was silence in the room. Not fear, exactly—just hurt.
Emman's tone hadn't been firm.
It had been… too much.
He caught himself.
"I—I need a minute," he said, stepping outside and leaving behind a class full of confused, quiet faces.
A Private Confession
Sitting alone on the stairs outside the EIM room, Emman felt the weight settle fully on his shoulders.
The sleepless nights beside his father's hospital bed. His mother trying to smile through the stress. The classes he felt guilty for rushing through. The fear of breaking down in front of students who looked up to him.
The door creaked behind him. It was Mrs. De Jesus.
She didn't speak right away. She sat beside him, her presence calm as always.
"I heard," she finally said.
"I lost it," Emman whispered. "That wasn't a teacher… that was someone on the edge."
She nodded. "Even the best wires can fray when the load's too heavy."
Emman chuckled weakly. "My father's not doing well. We've been in and out of the hospital. I didn't know how to keep the current steady."
She gently handed him a folder.
Inside: Compassionate Leave Form – Approved.
"Take it, Emman. Let your students learn one more thing from you—that it's okay to pause when life demands it."
A Family Anchored Together
At home that evening, Emman sat with his father by the window, watching the neighbor's porch light flicker on.
His father's voice was quieter now, but still warm.
"You've always carried so much," he said. "Even as a boy, you tried to fix everything. But sometimes, son, being strong also means letting people help."
Emman looked over at his mother, quietly preparing soup in the kitchen. He realized how much she, too, had been holding on for the family.
"I think I forgot I'm not alone in this circuit," Emman said softly.
"No electrician works without a team," his father said. "And no son needs to power a home alone."
A Return, and a Reset
On Monday morning, Emman stood once again before his students. The workshop felt the same—but something in him had changed.
Before he started the lesson, he looked at Dino.
"Let me begin with an apology," he said. "I spoke harshly last week—not out of your mistake, but out of mine. I was overloaded… and I forgot what matters most in this room."
The class listened in complete silence.
"I always say a good electrician checks the system before flipping the switch. Now I know—teachers need to do that too."
A Life Circuit Diagram
At the board, he drew a diagram.
Not wires. Not resistors.
But this:
Source – Faith
Main supply – Family
Breakers – Health
Loads – Purpose and Students
Ground – Gratitude
He turned to the class. "When one part fails, everything flickers. That's why you maintain each part—not just for performance, but for balance."
He looked at Dino and smiled. "Let's wire that three-way switch again. This time, together."
And the room came alive again—not just with tools, but with trust.
"True wiring connects not only bulbs and outlets, but hearts and purpose. That's what we build here."
– Sir Emman, Journal Entry, Year 10