Lost with a degree

Four months have slipped by since I proudly walked across the graduation stage, my heart swelling with joy as I clutched a diploma case adorned with Latin honors. I had imagined a future as a professional teacher, standing before students with the same enthusiasm I carried throughout my academic years. But life had other plans.

As a fresh graduate, I hoped that my years of pulling all-nighters, rushing off deadlines, and juggling academic and extracurricular activities would reward me with immediate opportunities. I was told that having a degree would open doors and set me apart. Yet, here I am—jobless, sitting at home, scrolling endlessly through job postings, and questioning whether the degree I worked so hard for holds any meaning in the real world.

Stepping into my shoes, a seemingly small but critical issue thwarted me from taking the licensure exam for teachers last September. The delay in obtaining my birth certificate wasn’t just about red tape; it was tangled with an investigation related to a national scandal involving an infamous mayor associated with illegal Pogo firms. This bureaucratic process stalled many government operations, including the release of important civil documents like my legitimate birth certificate. Unfortunately, I was unable to register for the board exam, which was supposed to be my ticket to the career I’d been working toward. What should have been a smooth transition into professional life quickly morphed into an extended period of uncertainty.

While some might say, “It’s just a delay,” for those of us relying on that first job to build momentum, every month without employment feels like a year of missed opportunities. It isn’t just about the lack of jobs, but also pondering over the sheer difficulty of meeting rigid job qualifications for even entry-level positions in the country. Ironically, we require more credentials from applicants for modest jobs than from those running for public posts. With this reality, were the promises of education oversold?

As a student, I embraced the sacrifices. I put in the long hours, earned leadership roles, and participated in activities that tested my time, vigor, and passion to build a resume. But the out-of-school landscape is different. The inflation crisis skyrocketed, turning the job market into a blood-stained battlefield. Employers demand not just diplomas but also extensive work experience. The paradox is frustrating, reminding me again that a degree, even one with honors, doesn’t guarantee a stable career.

Worse, many of us are forced to settle for jobs unrelated to our fields to survive. Engineers become delivery riders, and teachers like me consider roles in call centers to make ends meet. It’s a far cry from the visions we held while studying, fueled by the belief that education would lead us to stability.

It’s a painful irony: we dreamed of careers that align with our passions and skills, yet here we are, taking whatever job will pay the bills. I may have to take on work far below what my four-year course prepared me for to contribute to the family income. It’s a bitter pill to swallow, especially when society views graduates as the “hope” of the family.

A college diploma isn’t merely a singular medal but a shared trophy, stamped by unspoken expectations lurking behind the doors forced shut by breadwinners. There is pride, yes, but also pressure. It feels as if the minute the tassel turns, the clock starts ticking, and I’d hear my Ma and Pa murmur: “When will you land a job? When will you start giving back?” It’s difficult to explain the complexity of the workforce to those who aren’t in it. The narrative of “nakatapos ka na, dapat tumulong ka na,” weighs heavily on us. The frustration deepens when our struggles with endless applications and adjusting dreams go unnoticed. It’s not that we don’t want to help; it’s that the world we were promised feels more out of reach with every passing day.

We were trained to excel academically, but no one prepared us for the emotional toll of being unemployed—of waking up each day questioning our worth. Hanggang dito na lang ba ako? It’s a tough realization that hits when rejection emails outnumber interview requests. I often beat myself up and ask: Where am I going?

Yet, in the midst of this uncertainty, I still cling to fragile hope. Here I am—still unemployed, still figuring things out. Until the doors open, I’ll remain in the waiting room, reminding myself that this is not the end of my story. For now, I am lost with a degree in hand. My diploma may not be a map, but I’m sure I’ll make the most out of my journey. The detours and delays may deter my stamina, but I refuse to let them crush my spirit and extinguish the fire I’ve lit for so long.

Somewhere out there, the right opportunity is waiting to meet me halfway. And so, I continue, one leap at a time, trusting that however hazy the road becomes, it will lead me somewhere worthwhile. Perhaps not today, not tomorrow, but eventually, I’ll get to where I am meant to be. For now, I remain hopeful—lost, but moving forward.

One day, I will find my way.

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Joshua D. Barruga, 22, is seeking opportunities for career advancement after earning his English major degree from the Mariano Marcos State University–College of Teacher Education.