Signed and sealed
I still remember what I wore. It’s probably because I was in such stark contrast to the dull environment I had just entered. The gray stone floor exactly matched the pillars and walls. If the world were turned 90 degrees, I don’t think I would have felt the difference. From afar, I could see a field with some patches of green that gave a little more color to the campus. Even then, the brown bald spots were more prominent. The interior was not much better—dim hallways, dirty tiles, broken lockers, blemished glass panes. And don’t get me started on the bathrooms.
These efforts to debase the campus physique were probably attempts to confirm that my disdain for entering the school was valid, that my parents were wrong in forcing me to enroll. Back then, I really despised them for that.
My pubescent clothing style showed itself in my bright yellow sleeveless top matched with my vivid purple pants. I can’t believe I let myself wear that. Colored bottoms were the “in thing” then. I wanted to make sure I looked “cool” when I entered the school known for its nerdy stereotype, so I could prove to myself that I really didn’t belong. I hoped I could prove it to my parents, too.
It was contract-signing day. It’s weird how a few sheets of paper can seal the deal for corporate partnerships, legal transactions, negotiated pacts, or, in this case, a path-defining, life-changing promise. If the papers were mysteriously burned or lost, would I have been liberated from my 4-year shackles?
I don’t recall all the different offices I had to go to and people I had to meet just to retrieve those four pieces of paper. I only remember wanting someone else to do everything for me, like a spoiled brat. Why did I have to go through all the crap when I didn’t want it in the first place?
Once I had the contracts in my hand, along with a pen from the woman who gave the documents out, I walked to the lobby area near the exit as if magically drawn to leave the dreary place.
I sat down on one of the benches lining the lobby, as far away from the stray cat that was positioned high and mightily on one of the tables. The benches had dark brown paint attempting to cover the previously green-colored base. It wasn’t doing such a great job at it. I pretended to peruse the documents. There was no use actually reading; I had no choice but to sign anyway.
My previous private-school education was in profound contrast to this new environment. From a Catholic, all-girls private school to a more liberal coeducational public one. From properly maintained facilities to government-subsidized spaces. From a relaxing academic atmosphere to a very rigorous and challenging curriculum. When deciding whether to take the qualifying exam, I only wanted to see if I could pass and not actually consider applying. But, my parents thought otherwise. I mean, I guess they made sense.
The demographic was of a wider range and I would encounter people from a vast array of backgrounds. The tuition is subsidized with stipends given out monthly. And the education was going to push me to greater heights. Basically, I got paid to receive the finest education the country had to offer. But, back then, that wasn’t my concern. I was scared of leaving behind the comfort of my friends and a familiar, already satisfying setting for a life without the guaranteed happiness I would have had if I stayed. My dad always pushed me to challenge myself, but I was always afraid to do so. I guess this time, he got what he wanted.
I twirled the pen between my fingers and gave the contracts one last fake examination. I took out the cap and let the pen’s tip kiss the sheet. I scribbled my signature on the line and felt a bit mature and official. But that feeling was quickly overwhelmed by restlessness as I did the same thing about 20 times. I imagined that a secretary was going through the documents with me, saying, “Sign here. And here. And here. And here.” Until finally, it came down to the last empty line.
That blank space was to be filled with the insignia that would seal the deal for the next four years of my life, for an unsure shot at a supposedly better future. It was the finalizing step to one of the scariest choices that was going to determine my fate.
It was also to become one of the best life decisions I had ever made. But I didn’t know that yet.
I signed it anyway.
Mikaela Reyes, 20, graduated from the “life-changing” Philippine Science High School and is currently enjoying her journey as a scholar in college at Wesleyan University in Connecticut in the United States.
