There is an urban legend in the University of the Philippines that if you have a picture taken with Oble (the Oblation), you will not graduate on time.
It took me an extra semester to complete my four-year degree. I felt bitter, envious, angry, embarrassed and disappointed. And I never even had a picture with Oble!
While I was retaking my six-unit math courses, my friends were working and traveling, and my classmates were on their way to medical school. I was taking biology at UP Visayas and during my extended college stay, I tried to keep my optimism level as high as possible. Still, I had those little regrets with flashbacks of moments in which, I think, I could have done better.
When I was in preschool my teacher used to say that I was a very distracted student. It seemed that I couldn’t focus on one subject at a time. I played a lot and I loitered around, so I graduated with a proud “most energetic” medal pinned on my chest. I think I had one of the most amazing childhoods a kid could wish for: I could ride a bike, and I had many friends, really caring parents, and two younger siblings to fight with. When I was 12 I felt that my life was awesome.
During the next phases of my education I was a “gliding” student. I just followed the sway of fate. I didn’t compete, I didn’t try my best. I just glided like a plane on high altitude. If I made it to the top, then good; if I didn’t, then maybe next time. Maybe it was a sign of my lowering self-esteem because at that point, I felt ugly and untalented compared to my classmates. My sense of aesthetics came in late, so I really had no clue what to do with my hair or clothes. I hid all my photos during that stage of my childhood; they were just hard to explain. At 16 and on my way to college, I was figuring out my choices because I knew that later in my life these will shape who I will become.
Getting into UP was such pressure because I had my hesitations as to whether I could make it till the end, let alone endure being away from home for four years and staying in a place I’ve never been before. I had an omen about UP because my letter of acceptance never made it to our home. We checked it with the postman and even nagged the local post office. I was the only one in our class who passed the UP
College Admission Test, yet I never got a letter. I thought, “This is really not for me.” Months later I tried to take other entrance exams, but I couldn’t seem to do so because of many unforeseen events. So I had only one choice left, and that was to be an “Iskolar ng Bayan.”
In my freshman year at UP I realized that I was just an average student. I could get high grades but I had to make an effort, unlike others who made it to the Dean’s List flawlessly and easily. I processed the lessons slowly and I was lagging behind in my major subjects. My contemporaries were all from top high schools, and mostly graduated with honors. I always felt that little pinch of panic when I was around them.
In my sophomore year I entertained thoughts of shifting to the humanities—not because it would be easy but because I might have made the wrong call in taking biology. But the chances of shifting thinned when I failed my math subjects.
In my junior year my majors were still on the rocks. I was not “gliding” anymore, I was diving headfirst to the ground. At that point, I was like in preschool again. I devised major distractions through my extracurricular activities. I actually excelled being a leader in my organizations. It felt good, and slowly took away the misery of my failing academics. I could hear upperclassmen saying that it was okay and that they had been through that and managed to be okay. I was 18 and I felt like drowning. I was lying to myself, telling myself that it was okay not to graduate on time. At 18, I felt I had ruined my future.
I can vividly recall that time. I was failing in my junior zoology class and I needed a 94 percent in the final exam to get a tres, the passing grade. After the exam I remember shaking with emotion and shouting: I can’t fail! I will not take it and I am at the point of giving up UP.
When the results came out, I saw that I had alm ost topped the exam and got a 94.5 percent. It was one of the rare moments when I felt that my hard work had paid off and I was satisfied. I took a walk, clutching that blue book and whispering a prayer. It was a moment of reckoning. I was accepting the truth that I would not be graduating with my friends, that I had to wait another year. I then made a pact with myself that I would not be careless anymore, and that I would work hard to get my diploma. At 19, I learned to accept my weaknesses and the fact that I needed to act on them.
Now I am 23. I made it through UP and I have that diploma. UP is one of the best things that ever happened to me, but I am still betting that all those candidates for graduation will sing “Let It Go” just to graduate and really let it all go. I have found a very interesting job in the field of environmental conservation focused on biodiversity and helping upland farmers battle poverty.
My journey through college was really tough (academically), but I honestly learned a lot of things for which I am grateful. Right after I graduated I overcame my insecurities and landed the jobs I was then looking for. Looking back through this piece, I can see how my day-to-day choices brought me to this exact moment. I saw the beauty of how our character is strengthened by the battles we wage. I did not just “glide” anymore, I took flight and steered toward the right direction. Right now, I want to go back to my 19-year-old self and tell her: “Hey, thank you for making that decision to change for the better.”
And then it struck me: It is not getting into UP that is hard. It is getting out of it that we must prepare for.
Former “Iskolar ng Bayan” Cyndy Sol G. Rodrigo is now a technical assistant at the Department of Environment and Natural Resources in Iloilo City, “helping to conserve the remaining forests in the Visayas.”