Lessons learned from the University of Pila
The
I did not find my name on the list of UP College Admission Test passers that afternoon I went to UP Diliman to see the results. A recruitment campaign by a kind nun from an all-girls college persuaded me to go back to Diliman a few days later to double-check the UPCAT results.
On my return to the Palma Hall Annex where the bulletin boards were, I found my name on a sheet of paper with the heading “Pending.” At the bottom of the list was an instruction to go to the Registrar’s Office.
Off I marched to the Registrar’s Office, right straight into my first pila.
Based on the polite conversations among strangers, I gathered almost all of us in the line were on the pending list. I overheard one girl behind me complain it would be her third time to go to the Registrar’s Office. Someone consoled her saying, “Ako rin.”
After what seemed like eternity, it was finally my turn to enter the room where pending cases were handled.
There was no registrar there, but one female staff member gave me a quick glance and asked, “Name?” I gave her my name. She leafed through a pile of papers before pulling out what I immediately recognized as my secondary school report card.
“We don’t understand your report card,” she said. “Please translate.”
It was the last thing I expected, and I only managed a nod before she rattled off some terms for me to translate.
“Sejarah?”
“History.”
“Kimia?”
“Chemistry.”
“Matematik Tulen?”
“Pure Mathematics.”
A few more Malaysian words, then she pulled out a slip of paper from one folder and handed it to me. My heart did a somersault. It was my admission slip.
I took it with my hands shaking and my mouth partly open. I was barely 10 minutes in the room and I left it holding my admission slip. Unbelievable! My gaping mouth curled into a silly ecstatic grin.
I almost bumped into the girl behind me in the line as she took her turn to enter the room. I quickly folded my admission slip. Suddenly, it did not seem right to be overjoyed while she would still be working on whatever it was that had her admission pending.
Thus, Lesson No. 1: To not be blind to the plight of others because of my good fortune.
My next taste of the infamous UP queues would be for the filing of my Socialized Tuition and Financial Assistance Program form. The STFAP queue on the third floor of Vinzons Hall snaked down to the second floor.
As I inched toward the door of the Scholarships and Financial Assistance Office, I noticed a girl seated near the door. When I was a few people away from the door, the girl stood up and went right to the front of the line.
I frowned, expecting protest from the people ahead of me. To my surprise, there was none.
The woman who should have been the next to enter the door left the line and the girl took her place. I couldn’t help stare at the woman whom I estimated to be in her early 50s.
“Ma,” the girl addressed the woman as she took an envelope from the latter. I was appalled. The girl had her mother line up for her!
I looked away from the woman lest my eyes accuse her of spoiling her daughter rotten. I held my tongue, resisting the impulse to go tsk-tsk and hiss under my breath about how inconsiderate some people were.
Lesson No. 2 was difficult to swallow: There are people who take advantage of others, and people who allow others to take advantage of them.
Once, I was lined up as usual for a subject when a male student attempted to cut into the line. Two girls ahead of me glared at him. He glared back. I watched half-amused, half-mesmerized. It was my first time to see a man glare back more fiercely than a woman.
“Don’t you know who I am?” he asked, his chest seemingly bursting with the strain of insult at the realization that they did not.
“Hindi,” the girls retorted in unison.
I swallowed back a laugh. The other students who heard the exchange did not bother with courtesy and gave in to guffaws, giggles and loud chuckles.
Drawing courage from the other students’ evident amusement, one girl said, “The end of the line is over there,” pouting her lips to point at the end of the line. The male student gave another glare before walking away.
And I picked up Lesson No. 3: Stand my ground when in the right.
I didn’t see whether he did go to the end of the line. I was too busy nodding in agreement with the remarks around me.
“This is UP,” one student pointed out, “Dito, pantay-pantay lahat.”
Yes, the lines served as some sort of equalizer.
From lunch at the Coop (pronounced ko-op) to payment of fees at the
The lines taught me how to persevere and be patient. I learned to be grateful for small blessings like getting a
Patience and perseverance have seen me through 15 years of teaching at an all-girls college. I would like to believe my sensitivity to others’ situations has prepared me for life as a single mother to two boys. And aware that there are people who take advantage of others, I know when and where to stand my ground.
Indeed, some of life’s most important lessons I learned at the
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