Worthwhile public investments
Fifty years ago, I was among 129 young elementary school graduates from all over the country who trooped to a dilapidated building in Quezon City to begin a special five-year high school program. We were the second batch of government scholars to the then one-year-old Philippine Science High School (PSHS), initially housed in the old two-story Philippine Government Employees Association building along Quezon Memorial Circle. The somewhat decrepit state of the physical premises belied the special nature of the school it housed, a school created by law to develop a critical mass of science-inclined youth into foremost science and technology professionals in the country. “Cream of the crop,” they used to call us then, as only the top 10 percent elementary school graduates, or those certified by their school principals to have special aptitude in science and mathematics, could take the competitive entrance exam.
We began in June 1965 our “Introductory Year,” also known as “Zero Year,” in the then five-year curriculum of the school; this was reduced to the usual four years two batches later and thereafter. We had the best teachers, some of them faculty members from nearby University of the Philippines, and our advanced curriculum was designed to keep us challenged, accelerate our progress, and optimize our educational experience. Even so, we were not your stereotype bookworms or “nerds.” We were adolescents, after all, subject to the same diversions, temptations and mischief that teenagers are prone to. Perhaps we were even more so, with most of us enjoying an independence that was unusual for our young age, growing up away from the watchful eyes of our parents left behind in our home provinces.
This past weekend, 51 of us from that second batch of PSHS entrants came together for an enjoyable three-day reunion to relive the high school frolic and foolishness along with the serious work that became our common bond over the last 50 years. We have since called ourselves “Pisay Dos,” using our alma mater’s popular nickname in a takeoff from the popular card game also known as “Filipino poker”—perhaps also to show that we are not quite the serious eggheads many expect PSHS graduates to be. Many of our batch mates, a good number of them now living a “life of leisure” in blissful retirement, came long distances from abroad to reconnect with those of us who have remained in the country.
Many in our class had pursued their careers overseas, mostly in North America, seemingly adding to the country’s “brain drain.” The diversity in our chosen professions is wide. True to our publicly funded training, many of us became mathematicians, statisticians, chemists, physicists, engineers, biologists and physicians. But among the more prominent among us are a former Armed Forces chief of staff and a former flag officer in command of the Philippine Navy. We also have the first of two Cabinet secretaries produced by PSHS so far (an economist), along with other public servants who have served worthily in technical and administrative positions.
On the other extreme, we also had three former New People’s Army commanders, all of whom were killed in action long before we even began to have reunions. Our illustrious batch also produced spiritual leaders such as a leading Opus Dei Catholic priest, an active Catholic missionary brother, a Christian pastor, and a leading Ananda Marga monk. As scientists or otherwise, whether here or abroad, members of our Pisay batch can claim to have made ample contributions to building our nation in its many dimensions.
This brings to fore a debate that has dogged subsequent batches of PSHS graduates and alumni (fortunately not earlier ones like Pisay Dos), having to do with sanctions faced by those who do not finish a science course in college. This includes a contractual requirement to refund the government for the support received at PSHS. But should there even be such a contractual requirement at all? Is it reasonable to force a promising young 12-year-old to make an irrevocable decision on his/her lifelong career? A much younger Pisay alumna recently mused in an
online post:
“Many of these graduates were unable to find fulfillment in their courses, a common problem when your dreams are forced upon you. Even more were burned out or had lost their confidence after graduation…. To punish the scholar who now cannot land a decent science and technology job because he could not finish the S&T course he hated is like kicking a man when he’s down. To fine the scholar who is now prospering in a non-S&T job acquired through a non-S&T course, because this is the job he is good at or the job that gives meaning to his life, is a bit more humane, albeit still ridiculous.
“Many think (Pisay’s) failing is in its screening of potential scholars. But given that few people really know what they want when they’re 12 years old, I think short of hiring psychics, little improvement could be made here…. In the end, Pisay should focus on developing analytic and scientific minds, not just scientists. An inspired scientific mind is more productive than an enslaved scientist. The PSHS hymn promises to ‘fit all thy sons with wings to lend us flight in the sowing of our gifts.’ The education we got from Pisay has indeed given us wings; but please do not put us in the cage of our scholarship agreement just because our gifts are not what you expected.”
She is right. I’d like to think that we at Pisay Dos have proven ourselves to be worthwhile public investments, whether we ended up as
scientists or otherwise.
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