It happened at 9:37 a.m.
A loud thud echoed from the back of the school grounds, followed by the sharp snap! of electrical silence.
Lights blinked off. Fans stopped spinning. The workshop buzzed, then stilled. Silence spread across Jose Rizal High School, broken only by a distant barking dog and confused murmurs from classrooms.
The school had lost power.
Not just a tripped breaker—a full blackout.
Mr. Emman stood by his Grade 10 class, already scanning the workshop's panel. Nothing unusual inside. That meant the fault was outside the building.
Emergency Protocols
Within minutes, the intercom crackled faintly—then died. Cellphones came out. Data signals were weak.
A few faculty members peeked into the hallways. One shouted, "Transformer explosion! Barangay says a fallen branch hit the main line!"
Mrs. De Jesus appeared moments later in the corridor, calm as ever.
"Mr. Sotelo," she said, approaching him with a clipboard and a flashlight. "Can your class function without power?"
He smiled. "Give me ten minutes."
She nodded once, firmly. "I'll be in the admin office. It's on battery backup for now. Let me know if you need anything."
Teaching Without Electricity
"Alright," Emman said, turning back to his students, "we're electricians, not entertainers. We don't panic in a blackout—we investigate."
He grabbed a portable dry-erase board from the corner and dragged it to the center of the workshop.
"No lights. No tools. No problem," he said. "Let's work with brains today."
He assigned roles: two students went out to check the perimeter (under guard), others pulled out flashlights from the emergency kit, and the rest gathered around as he began an old-school chalkboard lesson on power distribution systems.
"Who can draw the flow from the grid to our school?" he challenged.
Marco stepped up, sketching confidently. "Transmission lines to step-down transformer to main panel…"
"And what's the most vulnerable point?" Emman asked.
"The outdoor drop line," Carina answered, "especially during storms."
"Exactly. So what happened today?"
"A physical fault—probably the tree branch grounded the line or overloaded it."
Heads nodded.
The class went deeper than usual—discussing real-world failure points, preventive maintenance, and even DIY voltage testing techniques using analog meters.
Meanwhile… in Other Rooms
While most classes turned to reading or idle chatter, Emman's workshop was alive with discussion, simulation, and collaboration. Word spread.
By third period, two teachers from other departments quietly stepped in to observe.
"What's going on here?" one whispered.
"No power, no tools," another answered, "but this class hasn't stopped for a second."
And still, Mr. Emman taught—not with screens, not with flashy visuals—but with questions, chalk, and connection.
A Visit from the Principal
By 11:45 a.m., the power was still out. Students had been dismissed early. But Emman's class stayed behind, voluntarily, finishing a mock activity about emergency wiring plans for schools.
Mrs. De Jesus arrived at the doorway just as Marco finished presenting his group's solution.
"Solar backup with isolated circuit for emergency lighting," he said. "Cost is higher, but in the long term, more sustainable."
She clapped softly. The class turned, surprised.
"Sir Emman," she said, stepping in, "you've kept the lights on today... even with everything off."
He chuckled. "We don't need current to generate sparks."
She looked around. "What I saw here today—this is education in its rawest and truest form. No PowerPoint. No internet. Just purpose."
Emman smiled. "It helps when the circuit's connected at the heart."
Later That Day
Power returned by 2:00 p.m.
The workshop lights flickered on, followed by a small cheer from the few students who had stayed to help clean up.
The school returned to its usual hum.
But something had changed.
A student named Eljay approached Emman quietly.
"Sir," he said, "today felt… different. Like, I really understood how electricity works—not just in wires, but how we respond when it's gone."
Emman nodded, placing a hand on his shoulder. "That's because you didn't just learn how it works. You learned why it matters."
In the Principal's Office
That evening, Emman dropped off the attendance summary and sat for a moment across from Mrs. De Jesus.
"No lesson plan could've predicted that blackout," she said, sipping her tea.
"No circuit diagram could've fixed it either," he added.
They shared a knowing look.
"You're not just preparing students to pass assessments," she said. "You're preparing them to power lives."
He smiled, feeling the weariness in his shoulders, but also something else:
Purpose.
Even in darkness—especially in darkness—it was shining through.