13/06/2026
๐ ๐๐๐ฒ ๐ฅ๐๐๐ญ.
From Breakdowns to Breakthroughs: โAt last, but not quite for a sigh of reliefโ
โIโm tired.โ
โYouโre tired?โ
โYes, Iโm so tiredโฆ I thought I just needed some sleep, but itโs more than that.โ
Unfortunately, this is Facebookโs algorithm for a 22-year-old fourth-year college student. These are some lines Iโve heard before a single thought hovers in my mind, a sudden pop-up jolts my nerves so much that I have to get up from my most relaxed position- lying down, which is almost close to sleeping.
Yes, how unfortunate this man was. Imagine being totally broke from a failed situationship and being tasked to share his not-so-happy, humble beginnings. In fact, up until now, thereโs nothing in his current career to be proud of.
Going back, this realization made me stop scrolling through my wasted algorithm, and thatโs why Iโm writing this story, my own story. It couldโve been a different one, but not a real one which only happens in my dreams if only I had succeeded in falling asleep.
Actually, itโs a privilege and a lowkey responsibility, to be fair, because I have to write and share my humble beginnings in my own departmentโCollege of Education. I need to make sure that this story of mine will represent the journey of every prospective teacher in Bacolod City College.
I turned off my phone and began reminiscingโฆ
The clock strikes exactly 5:00 a.m., and the aroma of garlic and onion, sautรฉed in used oil, begins to fill the air. โGa, madmad na!โ
Here we go again, hearing my most hated phrase coming from my mother because itโs the first day of my college life. The beginning of endless cramming, procrastination, and the breakdown of a soft boy who overthinks when the clock hits 10 p.m. and onwards.
As usual, thereโs nothing special about my first day as a freshman, not until I saw my ex eating some special ensaymada at the bakery near the campus. But itโs not him whoโs special; itโs the ensaymada I was talking about- not the person anymore. Going back, upon entering college, I assumed that my professors would be teachers who would pour their vast knowledge and understanding into me- an eager and willing student. I entered with expectations of challenging and thought-provoking courses because the rule of the College of Education is to have at least 85% of your grades. No surprise, then, that every teacher in the CoEd department was an expert in their own field and truly knew how learning happens or what teaching even is.
As the days passed, of course, I was not expecting a plain and joyful ride throughout my college journey. So, as an English major, let me introduce you to the titans and monsters of Greek mythology that almost devoured my hope and altered the course of my life. First on the list is Cronus, a terrifying and strict professor who demands discipline and is tough on deadlines. I hate mentioning names, but you already know them because weโre in the same boat. If we have Cronus, of course, there will always be Atlas- the heavy-load professor who assigns a massive project or a ton of homework, a kind of teacher that never lets us sleep.
Entering the top three is Cyclops, the one-eyed professor who constantly watches and monitors your work. The Cyclopsโ eye is always on you- except, of course, when it comes to your exam paper. Last but not least is Medusa, the intimidating lecturer. Her gaze will turn you to stone- freezing you in your tracks and making you nervous to ask questions.
But let me add one more: he or she may not belong to any of those titans or monsters, but his or her technique is totally deadly. Let me call him/her the Index Card Holder. This kind of professor will give you reason to palpitate and make you pray that your last name will not be called.
But mind you, these titans, monsters, or whatever odd names you give to them- at the end of the day, they are all just teachers trying to help you gain experience and realize if you really want to pursue the path you are traveling at the moment. It is so traumatic but at the same time nostalgic to reminisce about those kinds of memories that somehow help us become who we are today.
Honestly, Iโm doing fine, and everything has been within my control until the last few months of my second year, when I had to acknowledge a not-so-big, fragile, and indecisive thing located on the left part of my chest. Guess what it is? Itโs my achy, breaky heart. Oh, until now, I have to ask for forgiveness from myself, especially from my mind, which has been neglected for the past two years of ignorance regarding the so-called thing- love.
So, if you're asking, โWhat happened, Henry? Why are you crying again? I know- love life, right?โ Unfortunately, yes. This is the highlight and plot twist of the college life of a soft boy who always sits at the end of the jeepney seat and listens to โNobody Gets Meโ by SZA, acting as the main character of his restless and sleepless life.
But did you know that this man would do anything for love? How funny it is to retell my own stupidity and just laugh while writing it. But, to be fair, it was a decent college romance. This guy used to send handwritten poems, love letters, and stolen glances to someone he just met along the hallway. I was moved by his eyes, even though he wore glasses, had thick eyebrows, and spoke eloquently. Plus, he loves to play volleyball. Letโs just say that his presence in my college years ignited some fire that made me continue what I had started.
But not everything went right- like, where did we go wrong? I know we started out all right. Some things were out of my control, and so were his feelings. Unfortunately, we didnโt end up together, but Iโve done my part. His silent response was the kindest grace.
I think I've had enough of the drama. I donโt want to be mad at Disney because they tricked me into believing in my true loveโs kiss, because the real drama started in my third year- when it was research time! The title, pre-oral, and final defense were the main highlights or should I say, the downfall of my peaceful journey before becoming a senior. Aside from the sweat dripping from my body as I walked from Back-up 6 to the main campus, nothing beats the sweat that comes from being asked to explain the tables in Chapter 3 of my paper. I thought the suffering would end after the final defense, but of course, I was always wrong. Enter Mr. Reference, who still holds his final โalasโ against me and against the entire third-year batch, to be exact. From fake authors and outdated studies to incorrect citation methods, our groupโs mistakes haunted us until the end of the semester. Fortunately, and by Godโs grace, our batch produced 100% copies of hardbound theses made from our hard-earned papers.
It was tough, it was so tough, but Iโve learned that these experiences taught me that even the brightest stars- our moments of success are visible only because they are surrounded by the darkness of doubts, errors, and setbacks. Like navigating by the stars in the night sky, I learned to find direction through my struggles, understanding that each mistake or difficulty is a point in the constellation shaping my journey. The realization is that, just as stars are part of a vast universe, my efforts, mistakes, and perseverance are interconnected, leading me toward my goals, illuminating my path despite the darkness.
The setbacks and hardships are not just random dark spots; they are essential parts of a larger pattern that helps us understand our own growth. Just as astronomers look to the stars to navigate and find meaning in the universe, we as prospective teachers can look to our struggles and achievements to navigate our personal journeys and realize that every "star" contributes to the bigger picture of our development as a future teacher.
โฆ
The clock strikes at 10pm and it's getting late, and I enjoyed watching the stars and unfamiliar patterns in the sky. It was a worthwhile two hours of reminiscing about my beginnings, and I realized that I should be proud of myself for how far Iโve come. Just like some stars that shine brighter than others, I believe I will also shine in Godโs perfect timing- โPuhon.โ
I heard my mother shouting that I should get inside and stop doing random things, explaining that my phone was just charging. I smirked, thinking that sheโs right, and that a 17% battery would be enough to start overthinking again- going back to my wasted algorithm and fighting the urge not to send him a message: โHi, can we start again?โ
---The end ---
UEB Writer | Cristine Bautista
