There has been much talk about the sad conditions of Hawai'i public schools. Administrators work feverishly to find funding for air conditioning at schools in hot areas of our island; some campuses urgently need repairs; and there is a shortage of qualified teachers.

I recently walked into a classroom at the Badjao Center in the Philippines that was full of preschoolers and kindergartners who were simply happy to be there and to be able to learn despite extreme poverty, unbearable heat and deplorable living conditions.

My eyes welled with tears as I walked into this makeshift classroom in a waterfront slum in Cebu. My tears were a result of sorrow as I walked past huts built on tree branches perched over a polluted river — which also was a water source, bathing grounds, and a source of shellfish for food — but also they were tears of amazement at how the children found joy and happiness in their school.

But the true test of composure came when we unloaded Montessori materials from our school in Honolulu. The children and teachers unloaded each piece of material and placed them on the wooden platform making sure that all the pieces were accounted for. When everything was laid out, the children spontaneously sang "Happy Birthday to Me."

Their classrooms consisted of two canopies bordered by leafy lattices. Two wooden platforms covering most of the floor space provided the children with a place to sit in circle for lessons. The children were intently focused on Sr. Anne's lesson on birds. Using small pictures, she introduced the names of different birds, pantomimed their flying and sounds and ended with a playful song. Their joy in learning was clear.

What could an early childhood teacher of more than 20 years learn from this? I learned that education in this tiny school — what should be a necessity and a right— was a gift, a privilege. I also learned how this poverty-stricken community deeply valued education for their young children.

Despite their poverty, parents made sure that each and every child was bathed, and that their hair was brushed and that they wore the best attire they had. In one case, a young boy walked in wearing an orange and black Halloween costume dress, which, I am sure, was his finest piece of clothing.

Even in the intense heat and humidity, their positive attitude and love for learning prevailed. Each and every child wanted to be there and they were all focused and involved in the lessons and activities; education was a valued gift that was not to be wasted.

The children, community, and teachers were all part of an extraordinary loop that energized the spirit of the tiny school.

It is this spirit that all educators, communities and parents should foster.

If this spirit and passion for learning can exist under such dire circumstances and poverty, then surely we should be able to nurture this spirit here in our local schools.

If this spirit can flourish under such adverse conditions, this spirit should be evident in a school community that doesn't have Third World obstacles such as meeting the most basic survival needs of young children.

What contributed to this passion for learning?

Perhaps it is because education really makes a difference in places like Cebu. Perhaps it was because of the commitment teachers and administrators have for the children.

Perhaps it was because the school was actually a part of the small community. Perhaps it was because there were no distractions, such as video games and shopping malls. Instead the children were playing with each other and running around outdoors.

This tiny school in one of the poorest sections of Cebu has much to teach us when it comes to education.

Joan Gomes, a teacher at Star of the Sea Early Learning Center, recently visited Cebu and Okinawa as part of a peace mission that sends educators to exchange strategies and help train teachers in foreign countries. She wrote this commentary for The Advertiser. Reach her at jgomes@hawaii.rr.com.