At the beginning of this journey, I held both excitement and uncertainty in my hands, unsure of how things would unfold. I knew I was stepping into something that would challenge my thinking and stretch my creativity. Deep inside, I hoped this experience would not only sharpen my skills but also deepen my passion for teaching. I expected to create something meaningful—and in return, I was given more than I ever imagined. This was more than a task; it was a stepping stone toward the teacher I aspire to be.
Thinking of a relevant and heartfelt problem was not just about ticking boxes—it was about connecting the curriculum to real lives. When I reflected on the struggles of senior citizens, I realized how often they are unseen in conversations about learning and growth. It touched me deeply, and I knew I wanted to create something that honored their stories and struggles. Aligning this with math topics like percentage, base, and rate gave the lesson both heart and purpose. It reminded me that learning should always begin with empathy.
In the early parts of this journey, I found myself reflecting more often—not just about the outputs, but about my mindset. I saw my growth unfold slowly, from being unsure to becoming more confident with each step. I learned that courage in learning doesn’t mean having all the answers, but being brave enough to keep asking. There were moments I stumbled, but those became the moments I learned the most. I carried each lesson not just in my mind, but in my heart.
This WebQuest project became more than a requirement; it turned into a personal mission. As I explored the connections between curriculum, real-world issues, and student engagement, I realized the power of integrative learning. Every part had its role—each one weaving together to create something beautiful and purposeful. It felt like building a bridge between content and compassion. This project reminded me why I chose this path in the first place.
Designing the WebQuest gave me the chance to dream—and to dream big, with love. I poured my energy into crafting something that students could not only learn from, but feel connected to. I imagined their curiosity, their excitement, their hearts being touched as they discovered stories beyond themselves. I wanted this quest to be a journey—not just through numbers and facts, but through feelings, empathy, and growth. And in the process, I found my own purpose deepening too.
Conceptualizing the problematic situation was a deeply personal and eye-opening process. As I rooted my WebQuest in the lives and challenges of senior citizens, I felt a strong sense of purpose grow within me. It was not just about crafting a lesson—it was about honoring a generation that holds so much wisdom yet often goes unheard. The advocacy behind my project became clear: to bridge the gap between generations through learning and compassion. This experience reminded me that teaching must be grounded in values, and I hope to continue creating lessons that speak to both the mind and the heart.
The prelim examination was intense but meaningful—it tested more than knowledge; it tested purpose. It pushed me to align every learning competency with real-life meaning, and to ensure my plans were both structured and sincere. Through it, I was reminded that education is never random—it is intentional, compassionate, and grounded. It felt like I was no longer just planning for “students,” but for real, curious, growing individuals. It was a moment of realization that I’m truly walking the path of an educator.
Learning to balance summative and formative assessments opened my eyes to the soul of teaching. I saw how every check, quiz, or project can either support or discourage a learner—and I wanted mine to lift them up. I learned that assessments are not just measures, but mirrors—reflecting back not only what students know, but how they feel. Designing them became a way to care for my future students. And through that care, I grew in my calling.
Building the assessment timeline helped me understand the rhythm of learning—it needs space, structure, and intention. It challenged me to think about how learning unfolds, not just in moments, but in meaningful sequences. I found joy in thinking ahead, planning not just for outcomes but for growth. It felt like planning a story that slowly opens the heart and sharpens the mind. With every detail, I felt more like a teacher in the making.
Having a critical friend was one of the most genuine parts of this experience. It gave me someone to trust, reflect with, and learn from—someone who could hold up a mirror to my work and gently challenge me to do better. I saw how feedback, when given with kindness, becomes a gift. In that exchange, I grew not just in ideas, but in humility and openness. I realized that teaching, too, is a shared journey.
After the Critical Friend activity, I felt genuinely grateful. Having someone thoughtfully engage with my work made me feel seen—not just in what I produced, but in the heart behind it. Their suggestions and affirmations helped me refine my ideas and reminded me that growth often comes from gentle, honest conversations. It felt like a safe space where I could share my passion and receive guidance without fear of judgment. That kind of support is rare, and it gave me more courage to keep going and keep improving.