The hum of the workshop had a rhythm of its own—a low, crackling energy filled with anticipation, sawdust, and the faint scent of solder and oil.
It was 1:15 PM.
Mr. Emman stood by the open doors of the newly repainted Electrical Workshop Room, clipboard in hand. This was it—Grade 10's first practical session. No more theories, no more board work. Today, they would touch the wires, test the flow, and begin applying everything they had started discussing in the morning.
"Okay, class!" Emman clapped twice. "Put on your safety gear—gloves, goggles, and IDs visible. No excuses."
The students shuffled to the storage shelves—some excitedly, some nervously. A few fumbled with their gloves. Others pretended to know what they were doing. It was normal. He remembered the feeling—the thrill of holding a live tester for the first time, unsure whether to feel brave or terrified.
"I grouped you into pairs," he continued. "You'll be wiring a simple series circuit today. Just a bulb, a switch, and a source. Each team has a breadboard panel and a tool kit."
"Sir, may competition po ba ito?" asked Reymar, always the joker.
Emman smiled, "Only between you and the possibility of a short circuit."
Laughter rippled through the class. The tension eased a bit.
As the students got to work, Emman moved around like a conductor in an orchestra, observing, correcting, and asking questions.
"Check your insulation before connecting. That wire looks frayed, Carina."
"Paolo, what happens when both wires touch directly? Yes—you'll trip your circuit or worse."
Then—trouble.
A sharp pop cracked through the room, followed by a hiss of smoke and a half-scream.
"Whoah! Sir! May usok!"
Emman was already there in two strides. Group 4—Jonel and Darwin—were frozen beside their setup, wide-eyed. A faint curl of smoke rose from a charred wire on their board.
"Power off! Back away from the table," Emman barked, instinct taking over.
He quickly inspected the setup. The issue was obvious. "You connected the live wire straight to the bulb socket with no switch. That's a direct short."
Darwin's hands were shaking. Jonel looked like he might cry.
Emman softened his voice. "It's okay. No one's hurt, and we caught it early. This is why we follow procedure and why you never rush a connection."
He turned to the class. "Everyone—listen. Mistakes like these aren't just errors—they're lessons in safety. Next time, check twice before powering on."
He gave Jonel a pat on the shoulder. "Now you'll never forget polarity, will you?"
The boy gave a nervous laugh and shook his head. "Hindi na po, sir."
By 2:45 PM, the room buzzed again, this time with cautious determination. Bulbs lit up one by one—some flickering, some glowing strong. Emman moved from table to table, nodding, smiling, guiding.
There was magic in seeing students realize they could build something functional with their hands. From wire strippers to junction boxes, the whole room came alive with tiny sparks of confidence.
End of the Day – More Than Just Wires
At dismissal, the students began packing up. A few stayed behind to clean their stations. Jonel quietly coiled up his wires properly, then turned to Emman.
"Sir… pasensya na po kanina. Nataranta lang po ako."
Emman gave him a reassuring nod. "That's part of learning. The important thing is you're safe, and you know what to do better next time."
As Jonel left, Emman leaned back against the wall, exhaling. The room was quiet again—just the fading scent of metal and rubber, and the echoes of laughter and learning still hanging in the air.
He looked around the workshop, half-lit by the afternoon sun filtering through the window grills.
This was more than a room.
It was a forge.
A place where sparks would fly—not just from circuits, but from ambition, mistakes, growth, and second chances.
And today, they had all begun their first circuit together.