More Than The Hood
He did not stand on stage. He sat—smiling, grounded, and real. And from his wheelchair, Atty. Julius Palomar Alegrado, CESE, Deputy Director (Director III) of the Career Executive Service Board, delivered what might just be one of the most quietly powerful graduation speeches in recent memory. At the ISUFST School of

By Herman M. Lagon
By Herman M. Lagon
He did not stand on stage. He sat—smiling, grounded, and real. And from his wheelchair, Atty. Julius Palomar Alegrado, CESE, Deputy Director (Director III) of the Career Executive Service Board, delivered what might just be one of the most quietly powerful graduation speeches in recent memory.
At the ISUFST School of Graduate Studies’ Hooding Rites on June 22, 2025, held at the Iloilo Convention Center, hundreds of graduate school completers—doctors, masters, educators, civil servants—were reminded that the real test of education is not in the distinction or the glitter of the diploma. It is how one serves beyond self, especially when life is far from easy.
Alegrado’s message landed because it was not delivered from a pedestal. It came from someone who knows what it is like to be overlooked. Born with cerebral palsy-spastic diplegia, he has spent most of his life in a wheelchair. And yet, here he was—laughing, reflecting, pushing past pity and into purpose.
He started with a story. In high school, his teacher—now ISUFST President Dr. Nordy Siason—made him stand during class recitations until he got the correct answer. No shortcuts. No excuses. “It turned out,” he said, “that was life training.” And now, the boy once pushed to stand, sat before graduates not to inspire by default, but to challenge by design.
What followed was a six-part message built around the acronym ISUFST—Integrity, Sincerity, Unbreakable spirit, Failure, Service, and Thankfulness. But this was no motivational fluff. These were field-tested truths. Integrity, he said, is what allows you to sleep at night. Sincerity is the glue of real leadership. And grit? That is what keeps you going long after applause fades.
He spoke of being told by a college professor that he would never amount to anything. Two decades later, that same man now prosecutes administrative cases in Malacañang, drafts presidential orders, and mentors rising civil servants—while seated in the very chair that once symbolized his so-called limitation.
To the graduates, he said: let your achievements speak for you. Not the Facebook posts. Not the job titles. Not the graduation pictures. But how you rise after being told you cannot. How you keep going when life throws curveballs. And how you use what you know to make others better.
He threw in a rare but important truth: failure is not the enemy. Sometimes, it is just redirection. Maybe the job you missed led to the career you were meant for. Maybe that thesis rewrite taught you more than the first version ever could. “Do not be afraid to fall,” he said. “Just make sure you fall forward.”
Then came the heart of it: service. Alegrado reminded the room that real leadership is not loud—it is consistent. It is not about medals—it is about showing up. The diploma, he said, is not a badge of superiority. It is a reminder of responsibility. In government, in schools, in workstations, in business, in fields, and in homes, the real question is: who got better because of you?
And finally, he reminded everyone to say thank you. For the sacrifices, the notes passed, the lunch money saved, the shoulders leaned on, the kids put to bed before late-night studying. Thank the people who saw you through. Gratitude, he said, is not weakness—it is proof you are aware of how far you have come.
To every college and graduate school graduate this year, the reminder is clear: your grades matter, but your grit matters more. Your brilliance is nothing without your grounding. And your degree only becomes meaningful if it lifts others, not just your own status.
Atty. Alegrado did not deliver his message standing. He did not have to. From his seat, he proved something bigger. That real strength does not always walk into the room. Sometimes, it wheels in—smiling, grounded, driven, and ready to shake your comfort zone.
As he closed, he did not say “Go and conquer.” He said something better: serve, stand for something, and do not forget who helped you climb.
Because in the end, what you do with your degree for and with others will matter far more than how loud you celebrated it.
***
Doc H fondly describes himself as a ”student of and for life” who, like many others, aspires to a life-giving and why-driven world grounded in social justice and the pursuit of happiness. His views do not necessarily reflect those of the institutions he is employed or connected with.
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