My mother has been working as a day care worker since I was born. I am now 23 years old. And so to a certain level, I have witnessed her travails along the way. She began teaching kids in the coastal area of Antipolo, Medellin sometime in 1988. Today, in a different building and address, she’s still that same proud day care worker.
Taking home a monthly pay of P1,800, most don’t realize that people like my mother are not actually earning or paid that much. This is with reference to the fact that majority of day care workers around the country today are college graduates and professionals to start with. My mother is no exception. Perhaps, our family was a victim of whatever economic crisis the first EDSA People Power brought that our mother had to make do with a laborious job for such a meager salary.
Being her own preschooler, I can very well remember how she toiled hard to put value to her work despite the unaccommodating circumstance. The story books in her center were worn and tattered. The toys and other instructional materials were always never of first class and dusty. The toy blocks we used to have were not as colorful as those you see in exclusive child-care centers but ones that were made out of coconut lumber.And I am pretty sure that this situation still exists in the quiet barrios of some far, forsaken town all over the country.
But despite of that, her stories about Ibong Adarna, Bilog na Itlog, Diegong Dilaw and Tiktaktok and Pikpakboom still linger so alive in my memory box. And after all these years, the retention of those frailties in my years of being a preschooler in a public day care center has started to take exit. What’s left is a memory of an enduring mother-teacher, whose zeal remained unmoved notwithstanding all the odds in her chosen profession. And this passion might help explain how, despite her scanty salary (actually, it’s only an honorarium), inadequate supplies in the center and everything, she was able to withstand the pressures.
Cebu Gov. Gwen Garcia is one of those who have a heart that is close to day care workers. Her 12-point agenda never missed to include education and children among others. No wonder, the Philippine Information Agency reported that to date, about 77 percent of nearly 1,300 day care workers in the province had been given accident insurance coverage plans. My mother belongs to the other 23 percent but beyond selfish reasons, it’s good to see the government starting to treat day care workers the way they should be.
In many other occasions, Garcia would never fail to invite day care workers to listen to her talk, and part of her message always hints to the social workers’ poignant role in helping those who, out of poverty,easily fall prey to criminal syndicates. It can be recalled how the Regional Task Force on Anti-Trafficking was formed in Cebu to exactly confront the then growing problem that victimized mostly women and children.
But relatively, this improvement within the day care worker community may only be considered minimal. What are 1,300 individuals compared to the whole Cebu population of 4.16 million (including those living in the capital city)? Even then, it suffices to create an impression to the concerned sector that they are not forgotten by their government. This impression not just stays within their sector but redounds to their families, more importantly.
As for my mother, for the longest time in her 25 years of service as a day care worker, she has always wanted and patiently waited to hear some sort of good news. A raise, perhaps? A bonus of some sort? Other privileges? God knows how my mother richly deserves something like this. The provincial government has started it with insurance premiums. May the other local government units follow suit.