WEEKLY HOME LEARNING PLAN
CREATIVE NON-FICTION
Grade 12
Quarter 1 Weeks 1 to 4
Date and
Time
Learning Competency
Learning Tasks
CONTENT STANDARD
The learner understands the literary
conventions that govern the different
genres. (e.g., narrative convention of
fiction, etc.)
Lesson delivery for
every week s
printed or online
modular.
PERFORMANCE STANDARD
The learner clearly and coherently uses a
chosen element conventionally
identified with a genre for a written
output.
Week 1
MELC
Analyze the theme and techniques used
in a particular text
LESSON: THEME AND TECHNIQUES
Inclusive pages: 6 – 17
Minor Tasks
Learning Task 4 (page 14)
Learning Task 5 (page 15)
Learning Task 6 (page 15)
Major Task
Learning Task 7 (pages 16 to 17)
Week 2
MELC
Create samples of the different literary
elements based on one’s experience
(e.g. metaphor to describe an emotion)
Mode of Delivery
You may choose
any of the following
means of
submission:
 Google
Classroom
 FB Messenger
(only if the
above platform
is inaccessible)
 Handwritten, to
be submitted at
school. Please
attach this
WHLP, duly
signed by your
parent, to your
written or
printed outputs.
LESSON: DIFFERENT LITERARY ELEMENTS
Inclusive pages: 18 – 27)
Take Note:
Minor Tasks
Learning Task 4 (page 24)
Learning Task 5 (pages 25 to 26)
Learning Task 6 (page 26)
Always keep a
duplicate copy of
your work with you.
Major Task
Learning Task 7 (pages 27)
Comments and suggestions:
______________________________________________________________________________________________
________________________________
Parent’s Signature
We lead, we serve, we excel with a heart.
Address:Brgy. Mayapa, Calamba City, Laguna
Telephone Numbers: (049) 530-2090 / (049) 530-2098
Email Address: campvicentelimnhs@yahoo.com
Date and
Time
Week 3
Learning Competency
Learning Tasks
Mode of Delivery
CONTENT STANDARD
The learner understands the delineation
between creative and the nonfictional
elements of creative nonfictional text.
Lesson delivery for
every week s
printed or online
modular.
PERFORMANCE STANDARD
The learner clearly and coherently uses
multiple elements conventionally
identified with a genre for a written
output.
MELC
Analyze factual/nonfictional elements
(Plot, Characters, Characterization, Point
of View, Angle, Setting and Atmosphere,
Symbols and Symbolisms, Irony, Figures of
speech, Dialogue, Scene, Other
elements and Devices) in the texts
You may choose
any of the following
means of
submission:
 Google
Classroom
 FB Messenger
(only if the
above platform
is inaccessible)
 Handwritten, to
be submitted at
school
Handwritten, to
be submitted at
school. Please
attach this
WHLP, duly
signed by your
parent, to your
written or
printed outputs.
LESSON: ANALYZING FACTUAL / NONFICTIONAL ELEMENTS IN THE TEXTS
Inclusive pages: 28 - 37
Minor Tasks
Learning Task 4 (pages 32 to 33)
Learning Task 5 (pages 34 to 35)
Learning Task 6 (pages 35 to 37)
Major Task
Learning Task 7 (page 37)
Please use the supplementary
reading material as the text for
analysis.
Week 4
MELC
Write a draft of a short piece (Fiction,
Poetry, Drama, etc.) using any of the
literary conventions of genre following
these pointers:
1. Choosing a topic
2. Formulating a thesis statement
3. Organizing and developing ideas
4. Using any literary conventions of a
genre
5. Ensuring that theme and technique
are effectively developed
LESSON: DRAFT OF A SHORT PIECE
USING LITERARY CONVENTIONS
Inclusive pages: 38 – 41
Minor Tasks
Learning Task 4 (page 40)
Learning Task 5 (page 41)
Learning Task 6 (page 41)
Take Note:
Always keep a
duplicate copy of
your work with you.
Major Task
Learning Task 7 (pages 41)
Comments and suggestions:
______________________________________________________________________________________________
________________________________
Parent’s Signature
Prepared by:
Checked by:
Ronan DC. Vergara
Teacher III
Virginia V. Papas
Master Teacher II
Reviewed by:
Josefina A. De Grano
Head Teacher IV
We lead, we serve, we excel with a heart.
Address:Brgy. Mayapa, Calamba City, Laguna
Telephone Numbers: (049) 530-2090 / (049) 530-2098
Email Address: campvicentelimnhs@yahoo.com
Noted by:
Mildred M. De Leon
Principal III
SUPPLEMENTARY READING MATERIAL FOR LEARNING TASK 7 (PAGE 37)
BROKEN MADE WHOLE
By Ronan Vergara
This Image I can never forget: a smart looking lady
bearing a sweet simple smile that complements
her vibrant face. Her hair is neatly tucked in a bun;
her endearing eyes framed with thick spectacles.
She wears a stiff blazer that goes well with a decent
blouse and knee-length skirt. She looks regal
seated on her throne – a wooden desk bejeweled
by textbooks and a shiny red apple devotedly
offered by an admiring pupil. At her back is a mural
of her vocation – a dark-green slate board filled
with her neat penmanship and with grade school
doodles. She is the teacher in the mind of a fiveyear-old me, who at such an early age was so
eager to go to school. The young me had to wait,
though until he turns six, and jokingly, once he
could touch his left ear with his right hand from
above his head. As the little me waited, he had to
content himself with the lessons of his elder sister, his
guardian every time he was having bouts with
asthma. Such agonizing moments were held dear,
for his sister took him to places – the idyllic town of
San Diego in Rizal’s Noli Me Tangere, the drinking
fountain in a garden where Ann Sullivan was
teaching the blind and deaf Helen Keller the word
water, the laboratories of Newton and Graham
Bell, the fields of Argentina where a young saint
was growing up. With such influence, it was not
surprising anymore that the young me learned to
read and write earlier than the usual, and the more
did he anticipate his first day in school.
Thus, one rainy afternoon of June 1984 became a
momentous moment for the boy. He met a “real”
teacher for the first time, and he tried to be a
devoted pupil in class. He never had the money for
an apple, so he resorted to give dear teacher a
star apple instead, or even a tiny Fruitella square
just to complete the picture of the teacher in his
mind. And it was indeed a picture he successfully
made pretty.
Fast tracking thirty-two years to the present, the
young me has become a teacher – at least that is
what my license dictates – for often times, I do not
look or feel like the ideal educator in my mind. I
never wanted to become one in the first place. I
longed to become that journalist with his face flat
on the ground, avoiding the spray of bullets above
as he reports the latest news about a military
encounter with the rebels. That was life for me, and
as I was preparing for my entry in a prestigious
university to learn the craft, I had a blessed calling
to enter a school that offered me no choice but to
take up a degree in education. Hence, I became
a teacher – an unconventional one.
My mentors always taught me to think out of the
box. I am afraid I have done beyond that. I
destroyed the box. I ruled out conventions and
violated norms. Some lauded me for my nerve, but
most people around me, even those who are
closest to me, disagreed of my style.
My mother’s sermons about my behavior were
uncountable. She used to preach that she
dreamed of having a teacher in her family, for she
admired how dignified they stood in their school
uniform. Her dream was fulfilled, but her sonteacher fell out of her definition of dignity. It was
justifiable. With pierced ears, sun-burned skin,
heavy gait, vices, and my fashion statement of tshirt instead of polo, slippers instead of leather
shoes, jeans instead of slacks, I would be easily
mistaken as a hoodlum. It took some trips to the
HRD office for me to realize that I was indeed
violating the school’s dress code, and so I
complied in disappointment. But still, the lure of
unorthodoxy was irresistible.
I rebelled in secret, pumping out adrenalin,
heating my blood, nurturing my passive-aggressive
attitude to its undesirable peak. I often quoted F.
Sionil Jose who said that the only way to mend this
broken country is through a bloody revolution,
where all the current norms will be destroyed, and
all avaricious leaders annihilated. I relished the
filthy sensation of rule breaking, unaware that in
doing so, I was just shouting out my personal
brokenness.
And this brokenness is giving me creeps at this
moment – at this time when I am reflecting on how
the noble teacher should touch the lives of the
young. With all lowliness, I confess that I can never
fully touch the lives of the students entrusted to me.
With all my faults, I admit that I can never stand
and be the ideal teacher worthy of emulation. With
all my insecurities, I can never keep the young
secured under my care. With all my emptiness, I
can never quench their thirst for knowledge. Will all
my doubts, I can never understand them. With all
my loss, I can never find them. This man feels he
never deserves his paycheck from the
government, for despite the decent remuneration
that enables him to subsist, he still rummages for
morsels of glory that he has long lost. However, in
We lead, we serve, we excel with a heart.
Address:Brgy. Mayapa, Calamba City, Laguna
Telephone Numbers: (049) 530-2090 / (049) 530-2098
Email Address: campvicentelimnhs@yahoo.com
my pitch-black state of oblivion, the speckles of
light become so enticing, and these speckles bear
faces – the familiar faces of the young I have met
in all my years of teaching.
The first fifteen years of my teaching profession
were spent in my comfort zone, the private school.
But my wife, who transferred to the public school
before I did, always reminded me that the true
sense of mission I always reasoned out is better
found in public schools. I admit that her reminder
was not my prime reason to transfer. It was the
promise of higher compensation that made up my
mind. And so I left my comfort zone and ventured
into a wild, unfamiliar world.
My first week in a public school was awful. I
endured a cramped “air-continuous” faculty room
where I had no table of my own. I got itchy rashes
all over my hands when I volunteered to rip off the
mangled ceiling of an old office that has been
infested with God-knows-what microscopic
insects. I sweated in the classroom together with
uneasy students – and I admit I thought they
smelled bad. But beyond these accidentals, I
sensed the real substance of these young people:
they whose description of a savory lunch is a tenpeso deep-fried chicken neck; they who walk
through a wet, reeking tunnel under the express
way just to cut short the way to school; they who
do their homework in the light of a batterypowered light bulb; they who find it hard to wake
up in class because they have to work at night;
they who are ping-ponged from one house to
another because their parents cannot live
together anymore; they who are physically,
emotionally and even sexually abused at home;
they who have succumbed to the prongs of illegal
substance; they who have become parents before
their teen years end.
yet he learned how to control his rage. He was
hard off, but he was able to construct two
basilicas. His school was a makeshift shack, yet his
flock of young men grew and spread. He too was
broken and wounded by poverty and social
rejection, and so he loved the oppressed,
overworked, underpaid, delinquent young people
during the great Industrial Revolution. And he died
uttering the words, “work, work, work,” surrounded
by countless souls whose lives he mended, and
who are now ready to heal and serve and love
others as well, united by a vow to which I also
adhere: for you I study, for you I work, for you I am
willing to give up my last breath.
I stand as one broken and wounded person willing
to embrace the others’ woundedness. I am a lowly
teacher. Use me as you wish.
I saw in these young people beaming opportunities
within lost hopes. I saw shining dreams darkened by
the clouds of poverty. I saw young people who are
broken, wounded, misunderstood, empty, lost. I
saw them all, and in the process, I also saw myself.
And for the first time, I feel thankful for my wounds,
for I will never understand my student’s pains if I
myself have not suffered. Thus, I ask for your
apologies if I veer from the theme and say that all
is the other way around: it is the students who touch
the teachers’ lives and make them whole – for
without students, the teacher is nothing.
As I close my reflection, I cannot help but mention
the educator who nurtured me so well. I never got
to meet him in person, but his legacy continues on
all over the world. This educator was hot tempered,
We lead, we serve, we excel with a heart.
Address:Brgy. Mayapa, Calamba City, Laguna
Telephone Numbers: (049) 530-2090 / (049) 530-2098
Email Address: campvicentelimnhs@yahoo.com