Just Call Me Ma'am Heaven

Who said that teachers had it easy should be stabbed in the heart with a stake and buried 160 feet under a freezing grave. Being a teacher is not easy. When I started out, I wondered: God, what am I going to do? And I was already standing in front of 60 plus unknown faces who have frighteningly curious, assessing and dubious gleams in their eyes. I went through that phase in a blur. I forgot what I said and what I did that day and just like most nervous and new teachers in the field, I immediately launched into a discussion of the lesson which I had planned the other night. Then, just before I was about to dismiss my class, a student asked: What is your name, Ma’am? That broke the tension. I, as I normally do when I forget something (which always happens anyway despite my precautions and obsessions with To Do Lists), slapped my forehead and grinned. “Just call me Ma’am Heaven”, I said. From then on, upon entering the room, I was able to evolve an odd means of beginning the school year: If possible, I usually want to be the first person to enter the classroom. I would sit on the teacher’s table at the back and allow the whole class to settle down. Then, I would move to the front and just stand there. I would stare at my new students for approximately 20 minutes. (I do that to form an impression of the students based on the auras they generate. And no, it’s not a new wave concept or thing. It is just the way I am). If they become uncomfortable, the better it is for me. Then, I would write my complete name on the board. And tell the class to; Just call me, Ma’am Heaven. One student asked me once why I wanted to be called by my first name and not by the usual surname that most teachers are addressed with. Here are my reasons: 1. First, I am not most teachers (in fact, I am not most persons). 2. My mother is also a teacher in the same school and she is known as Mrs. (Our surname) so to avoid confusion, I’d rather be called Ma’am Heaven. 3. I do not like the way my surname sounds. 4. A woman’s last name is not her own. An unmarried girl carries her father’s last name and a married woman carries that of her husband (which is strange since I believe you can never really tell if a man is the father of a child but you are always very sure about the mother). 5. I want to be known as my own person: not as my mother’s daughter, not as my father’s child, not as the kid of so and so but as myself. (Maybe that is the reason why they do not have last names in the past. So If I were alive back in the past, I would be Heaven of Passi). 6. It was my beloved grandfather who gave me that name without my mother’s knowledge. She revealed that she herself was shocked to find out that my beloved Lolo named me Heaven. Thank’s a bunch Lo. Anyway, I love my name. I used to hate it a lot when I was younger and it brought me easily to the attentions of my teachers. But, as time progressed, I realized how appropriate the name is. No., I am not Heaven the Good. In fact, I am 50% evil, 50% unknown material. Instead, Heaven, to me is the sky, timeless and unpredictable. It is also a reservoir of the violence of nature and her brightest joys. There are times that the sky is happy and good but there are times when it heralds destruction. Aside from that, the Heaven’s I know are males. The son of Geneva Cruz for one, and then there’s the husband of Mother Earth (Gaea), Father Heaven (Ouranus). And I have these odd idea that the universe actually planned me to become a male. So, I will just stay Heaven, I guess.