LAST WEDNESDAY I talked about the speeches delivered at UP’s commencement exercises and recognition rites in Diliman, Los Baños, Cebu and Tacloban. I wrote about the speeches of President Aquino, Prof. Felipe Miranda and political science graduate Jayson Aguilar, all with strong exhortations to the new graduates to serve the Philippines.
I know many readers are probably shaking their heads, wondering if UP is indeed, as Jayson Aguilar described it, a lotto game for Filipino taxpayers, with possible large winnings that are far too infrequent. Is the national budget’s P5.7-billion allocation for UP worthwhile?
Bias aside, being a UP professor I would say yes, and that we are not “betting” enough on UP. Attending so many of these rituals this year, I’m actually more convinced than ever that UP does make a difference, if at least in terms of the opportunities it extends to young people.
For years now, attending these ceremonies, I’ve gotten to meet the parents of our UP graduates. Many are clearly from very humble origins. This became even clearer this year as I attended the commencement exercises in Cebu and in Tacloban, and this convinces me even more that without UP, so many bright young people would have no access not just to quality education, but to the diversity of course offerings that only UP has.
At the recognition rites of the College of Social Sciences and Philosophy, I incorporated into my welcome remarks the story of one of our graduates, a psychology major, who grew up in Mindoro but decided to take his chance early in life. When it was time for high school, he chose to go to Manila with an aunt, for a better education. He put himself through high school, got into UP and again put himself through college. It was often a hand-to-mouth existence, including having to postpone for several years a trip home to see his family because he just couldn’t save enough.
With graduation around the corner, he had to go home to visit his ailing mother. One of his professors, who had always been impressed with this student, kept me updated with all her worries that he would not be able to come back for graduation. He did make it, to graduate cum laude. Although he wants to go into medicine, he will have to work first to help support his family back in Mindoro, and to earn enough money for medical school.
<STRONG>Valedictorians</STRONG>
UP Diliman’s valedictorian, John Gabriel P. Pelias, who was featured in a front-page Inquirer story, is also from a family that was quite hard up. John Gabriel made it through college, graduating summa cum laude with what might be the highest grade point average ever attained by a UP student. Although a UP-subsidized scholar, he still had to work and had some help from faculty members. At the graduation ceremonies, he announced he intended to “pay back” by teaching at UP.
UP Cebu had its first summa cum laude with Michael Joaquin, also a math major. He talked about growing up as the eldest of nine children, his father opting to be a “houseband,” staying home to take primary responsibility for the children, while his mother worked as a government employee. (I found out later from faculty members that the father had once been a seafarer.)
At the college of veterinary medicine in Los Baños, the valedictorian was Jussiaea V. Bariuan, her father a UP employee. Jussiaea romped off not just with a cum laude but with most of the college’s awards for academic excellence.
These students are not atypical. At the commencement exercises, you could tell the parents were simple folk, people who have had to scrimp to be able to send their children to UP even with low tuition. Quite noticeable were the number of students who went up with one or both parents missing. I am certain these were children of overseas workers.
<STRONG>Whispers, temptations</STRONG>
Each graduate now carries the heavy responsibility of having to “pay back” parents, with expectations that might actually open them to the temptations of easy money, the many “whispers and temptations” that President Aquino alluded to in his commencement speech at Diliman.
The students certainly know they are people’s scholars but I’ve wondered, from the speeches of the students, if perhaps they themselves set too high a standard when they say that they now want to become “iskolar para sa bayan” (scholars for the nation).
In Tacloban, I narrated the story of Dr. Bobby de la Paz, who with his wife Sylvia chose to serve in impoverished Samar from 1978 to 1982. Their being in Samar raised suspicions among the military, as well as among the poor communities being served, that Bobby was a subversive.” He was assassinated one summer afternoon.
I just had to give Bobby’s story in Tacloban but qualified that I didn’t expect the students to all become doctors and to serve the poor.
There are many ways to serve, I told the Tacloban graduates, and this can start with our families and communities. I shared results of a master’s thesis, by Jose Elmer Lavado, looking into school dropout rates in Eastern Visayas, which were much higher in rural areas and in agricultural households. I reminded graduates that even doing business in a rural community is a way of helping to keep kids in school. I also alerted the graduates to the much higher dropout rates for boys, expressing hopes the graduates would find ways to keep more boys in school, and that would include the way they would raise their sons, to appreciate school more.
Lavado also found that for each additional child in a family, the chances of dropping out increased by 16 percent. The implication is clear: whether through “artificial” or “natural” means, family planning does make a difference for the children’s future.
I asked the graduates to think of supporting other students in need, taking care of their living expenses for example, can make such a difference. I thought of a high school in Cavite run by Catholic sisters, with excellent students chosen from the poorest of the poor and given the best education, and yet none were taking the UP admissions exam because even if they passed, they would not be able to afford the living expenses. I boldly told the sisters to encourage their students to take the UP entrance exam and I would help to find sponsors. Twenty-three passed that year, but I could find only two sponsors to help with the P5,000 monthly allowance.
At Tacloban I did mention the problem of brain drain, wondering again if perhaps we trained our students too well, so much so that we end up exporting them. There is much talk about following UP Manila’s lead with return service agreements, students having to stay in the Philippines for at least two years after graduating. For our graduates from other campuses, there should be more encouragement for graduates to stay on and help develop their own regions and communities.
Those who stay on can serve in many ways. Just choosing to teach at UP is one way. We keep losing young faculty who say they cannot support their young families with the current salaries at UP, even after three consecutive years of upward adjustments.
And yet, choosing to stay isn’t always a sacrifice. I’ve always felt that for many Filipinos, if they had their ifs, staying home and working is still a viable option. Graduates of UP Cebu and UP Tacloban who decide to stay on in the Visayas and Mindanao may actually be smarter, able to find or create niches.
One graduate from UP Tacloban, Aaron James P. Almadro, approached me after the graduation ceremonies and gave me a copy of the maiden issue of a new magazine he is editing, “8,” focused on tourism in the Eastern Visayas. He had worked in Manila for ABS-CBN but chose to return home, finish his degree in Communication Arts and take up the challenge of magazine publishing in his region.
Aaron, Michael, Jayson, Jussiaea and many other new UP graduates dared to dream. We should, too, about UP.