Dr. Armando Katalbas: The director who drove a tricycle
When students walk through the doors of the newly rebranded Student Support Center (SSC) at ISUFST, they may not realize that the man behind the office once held a very different steering wheel—the manibela of a battered Kawasaki HD 100 tricycle. For years, Dr. Armando Katalbas ferried passengers between ISCOF (now ISUFST) and Tiwi Crossing, battling exhaustion

By Staff Writer
When students walk through the doors of the newly rebranded Student Support Center (SSC) at ISUFST, they may not realize that the man behind the office once held a very different steering wheel—the manibela of a battered Kawasaki HD 100 tricycle. For years, Dr. Armando Katalbas ferried passengers between ISCOF (now ISUFST) and Tiwi Crossing, battling exhaustion and doubt, before parking his tricycle outside campus halls to attend his own classes. Today, that same grit and persistence fuel his leadership as SSC director, replacing Prof. Grace Bunda after the latter’s retirement and the office’s transformation from Office of Student Affairs and Services (OSAS) under the revised University Code.
From Hunger to Hope
Sir K’s story begins in Old Sagay, Negros Occidental, where childhood was marked not by play but by survival. At just 10, he lost his father, a motor pool mechanic, to liver cancer. His mother never bowed to begging. When food ran out, she made water hiss in the kettle, keeping up appearances that rice was on the fire. “The memory stays sharp,” Sir Mandit reflects. “She reached into my grandmother’s backyard, gathering bananas in secret—proof of her courage to provide when all else failed.” Those early struggles planted in him the quiet strength and humility that today guide his work at the Student Support Center.
With seven siblings and a widowed mother, the unassuming Dr. Katalbas grew up fast. He learned the art of survival before the art of scholarship. He managed a network of fishponds through sun and storm, endured the backbreaking task of managing laborers, delivered tons of bangus to the pala-pala, and shouldered responsibilities that would crush most teenagers. “No theoretical knowledge, just actual encounters,” he says of managing a 75-hectare fish farm for 15 years. Those years gave him more than survival—they became his first classroom in leadership and human relations.
But the defining moment came not at a pond, but behind a tricycle’s handlebars. One exhausting day, ferrying students, his frail body struggling with the manibela, he asked himself: Would I forever remain a tricycle driver? He quickly adds, “I am not belittling the work—it is a decent livelihood. But in one exhausting day behind the handlebars, I found myself wondering: If I can endure this, what more could I achieve if I pushed myself further—for my family, and for our future?” That haunting self-talk became the spark that reignited his long-postponed dream of education.
The Road Back to School
At nearly 40, Sir Mandit enrolled in the College of Education at ISCOF, carrying not just books but the weight of ridicule. One fellow driver mocked, “Kamal-am ka na, nag-eskwela ka pa?” Yet another offered words that would carry him through: “Mayad na, at least kapahuway ka drive kon makatapos ka.” It was the encouragement of his wife, mother-in-law, and professors like Dr. Cynthia Dilag that sustained him. “She would tell me, ‘Oh go out na, byahe na to,’” Armando recalls with a smile. Even insults became fuel. He was the first in his family to reach college—a fragile lifeline that made every exam and every passing grade feel like a victory for his entire bloodline.
At one point, his daughter wore a high school uniform while he carried college books in then Iloilo State College of Fisheries, now Iloilo State University of Fisheries Science and Technology. Together, as schoolmates, they drew looks of surprise and admiration. For him, it wasn’t awkward but affirming—learning, after all, has no age limit.
Katalbas did more than study; he led. At 39 in his first year in the CoEd, he was elected Student Body Organization president, later becoming a student trustee in the Board of Trustees. “The honorarium I received from meetings helped my family a lot,” he admits candidly. His age earned him respect—classmates called him manong. That season sharpened his responsibility and softened his heart. He learned that true leadership lies not only in making rules but in recognizing the invisible weight student leaders often bear.
After that, his routine was anything but easy. He rose before dawn to drive, studied in between, and ended his nights exhausted but determined to push through. He woke at 2:30 a.m. to drive first trips, squeezed in classes, then returned to the tricycle after lectures. To make ends meet, he even hustled as an emcee during political rallies. “The desire to change my course from a tricycle driver to a teacher made me focus,” he says. Every peso earned was an investment in the future—a lesson he now weaves into SSC’s mission to help students see education as a bridge, not a burden.
His dream at first was simple: to teach at ISCOF. But a memorandum requiring faculty to pursue doctorates nudged him higher. He enrolled at the Center of Excellence in Education, West Visayas State University, tackling standards that daunted him. In a sea of classmates from prestigious schools, he stood out not for credentials but for sheer commitment. “I never missed a class, always came early, and submitted all requirements before the deadline,” he says. That discipline bore fruit in a Ph.D. in Education major in Curriculum Development with a study on indigenous language for his inclination in linguistics, an achievement once seemingly impossible for a child who survived on bananas to fight hunger.
Leading with Empathy
Now, as SSC director, he leads with the wisdom of lived struggle. His story reminds students that empathy grows best in soil watered by hardship and hope. “My struggles influenced the way I run the office,” he reflects. He measures leadership not in paperwork or schedules but in how much dignity and compassion students receive. He insists teamwork, not bureaucracy, is what moves things forward. This philosophy resonates with the broader direction of ISUFST under Dr. Nordy Siason Jr., whose vision of empowerment and good governance has created space for leaders like Dr. Katalbas to serve with both diligence and compassion.
Among his proudest works is the Student Entrepreneurship Assistance (SEA) program, born in August 2025. With Instructor Caryl Jade Villanueva as focal person, SEA provides small loans to financially struggling students at a modest 1% interest, helping them launch microbusinesses. “I feel joy seeing students sell Banana Q, Turon, Musubi, Ice Candy, and still save something after paying their dues,” he says. Having been part of the Equity Target Group (ETG) himself, he knows that such small interventions can mean the difference between dropping out and breaking through.
Despite his title, Katalbas never shed the values of his tricycle days: respect and service. “I am still the tricycle driver who values passengers,” he insists. The tricycle is gone, but the habit remains—treating every person with respect. Today, his passengers are students, and he welcomes them with the same courtesy, living out ISUFST’s vision of social justice—empowerment and service with dignity.
At home in Barotac Nuevo, Sir K passes on what life taught him: honor your elders, stay humble, and trust God in all things. “That verse from Philippians gave me strength daily,” he shares. Faith carried him through tough nights and still steers his path today.
To him, the greatest misconception about success is forgetting where you came from. “You have everything but end with nothing because you forget your beginnings,” he warns. His pride is not the Ph.D. or the title, but the journey: the tricycle parked outside class, the board meetings attended with trembling hands, the Banana Q vendors now finding their own dignity.
Asked what message he wants to leave struggling students, he grins: “Just like in the animated movie Ratatouille—anyone can cook. Anyone can dream.” His story proves that education has no age limit, and resilience no expiration date. For ISUFST students who know the pinch of hunger, the weight of doubt, or the drag of late-night bus, trike, or habal-habal rides, his life stands as proof that the story doesn’t end there—tomorrow can still be rewritten.
Dr. Katalbas’ way of leading fits naturally with ISUFST’s vision of raising empowered, globally competitive graduates, while also pushing forward SDG 4 (Quality Education), SDG 10 (Reduced Inequalities), and SDG 8 (Decent Work). To him, the SSC is not a desk-bound office but a lifeline, a compass, and a safe place where dignity and opportunity meet.
When asked to reflect, he offers his younger self a smile and a short message: “You survived, and thrived. Congratulations, self.” And to students, fellow faculty, and members of the bigger ISUFST community, he shares an even simpler one—cling to diligence, perseverance, determination, and faith. “With these ingredients,” he says, “you can shape the future you dream of.” Once a tricycle driver, now a university director, 60-year-old Armando Katalbas is proof that in ISUFST—and in life—it is never too late to dream. (Herman Lagon/PAMMCO)
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