After school
Traveling from point A to point B was not as simple as I thought, regardless of whether I believed the space between them was finite. But reaching point C was barely imaginable. I was afraid to think of what awaited me after college.
There is an old joke for fresh graduates: Congratulations, you are now officially unemployed. But boastfulness aside, it did not apply to me. I was a working student; supporting myself was the only way I knew to help my parents financially. The last thing I wanted as an adult was to be a burden to them. And so I became a burden to myself.
Even so, I considered myself free. Living alone in an apartment room, I had no one to tell me not to stay up late or when and what to eat (or drink!). Unfairly branded as a selfish introvert, I was no longer obligated to let anyone know I was fine. Household chores I did minimally, because I only had myself. Above all, I was no longer at anyone’s mercy for an allowance. I knew my parents were always worried, but I took good care of myself.
Nevertheless, being free had a price. Working nights as a part-time call center agent hardly gave me time for sleep. Also, earning was half the battle, budgeting was the real score. I had to pay the bills, buy my food, allot money for transport, and get copies of my reading materials (yes, the photocopy culture at the University of the Philippines). However time-consuming, I chose to wash my clothes instead of spending for laundry services. Whatever I saved went to emergency expenses, like medicines when I got sick, or movie dates with my girlfriend.
And it took me a while to graduate. The Commission on Higher Education once reported that the majority of working students tended not to finish college on time. I thought I would be different, but I was wrong. I took almost twice the time to complete a four-year course. There were semesters when I had to take a lesser load of subjects, or even a leave of absence. Starting in my second year, “INC” (incomplete) marks never failed to appear at every end of the semester. I had to compromise just to keep myself alive.
But being a working student taught me things I could not learn in the classroom. It made me redefine a concept of time, which then became too valuable, and space, which became too limited.
Procrastination, as for my new concept of time, was tempting, but prohibited. To be in places where I wanted to be, as for my new concept of space, became a dream. I had to confine myself strictly to what I needed to do lest I lose either work, or school, or both. My work was to the present as school was to the future—a homeostasis I had to maintain.
But where to go after all these sacrifices? I never gave it a thought until I had completed all my units in college. A promise I made to myself that everything would pay off—such as my landing a well-paying job—was an empty one. I thought being a UP graduate would guarantee me a better future, until I stopped thinking I was special. I had to remind myself that most of the people I admire—artists, musicians, film directors, writers, entrepreneurs—are not even college graduates. Sure, most of them are real geniuses, yet I believe their courage to face the cruel world and make a difference made them what they are today.
For me now, being a UP graduate does not mean being special. A college degree does not equate to instant employment. Nor do I believe that the former’s purpose is the latter. To study for the sake of studying is reasonable enough. I believe that the noblest thing about a college education is being able to take a course that suits one best, regardless of its career opportunities. I have never dreamed of being on the cover of Forbes magazine, anyway.
Now that I no longer spend time in class, I have the time to read, to play guitar, and to exercise. These I do so I can improve myself. I still keep my job, but I need it only for subsistence.
Some people ask: What’s next for you? Honestly, I do not know, and I may even not care. To get a UP education and to learn lessons beyond its borders are achievements in their own right. What is next—and of this I am certain—is to travel back to point A and then to point B. I want to learn and unlearn things. I will go back to studying and maximizing the single conscious lifetime that I have for it. I may get a master’s degree, study law, enter the seminary, or be a Buddhist monk.
I want to make the same sacrifices. I am no longer afraid of sleepless nights, hunger and poverty. As Ray Charles put it, “Been there, done that.” I can confidently say I will not commit the same mistakes. Only I need some time to rest, to read, and to think. Then I will be ready to face a new challenge in my life.
And to my fellow graduates this year: Let us become better people tomorrow.
Kristoffer C. Reyes, 25, is a Philippine studies graduate of the University of the Philippines Diliman.
