Regina Macero Planto: Mom of Seven Walks to College Degree With Grit

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BAROTAC NUEVO, Iloilo – While others count miles by odometer, Regina Tumolin-Planto measures hers in sacrifices.

A 43-year-old mother of seven from Sitio Pabulayan, Brgy. Managupaya, Banate, she walks an hour over landslide-prone terrain just to reach the first tricycle headed toward her dreams.

What follows is a 30-minute ride to Banate town proper, then another 38-minute Ceres bus trip to Iloilo State University of Fisheries Science and Technology (ISUFST).

Yet when she enters the gates of the ISUFST Main Campus, she carries herself with quiet grace—hair tied back neatly, smile unwavering, tote bag filled not just with notebooks but years of hope finally scribbled into goals.

Regina is part of ISUFST’s 2025 graduating class—an academic milestone she shares with classmates half her age.

At first glance, she blends in with other education students, except she’s called “Mommy” or “Manang” by peers.

Her grit, however, stands out.

Before ISUFST, she began her college journey at Janiuay Polytechnic College, now WVSU-Janiuay.

She took up education with a major in home economics but had to drop out when no one could help with tuition, transportation, and school expenses.

She worked as a house help and later as a daycare teacher before marrying in 2004.

Still, the dream of wearing a toga never left.

In the middle of the pandemic, she stood outside the gate of the Iloilo State College of Fisheries (ISCOF), now ISUFST.

She whispered a prayer: “If this is really for me, Lord, make it easy.”

It was.

Her husband Joevanie, a habal-habal driver and barangay tanod, helped her process the paperwork.

Everything fell into place.

She enrolled in the Bachelor of Elementary Education (BEED) program.

Her first choice was social work, but she realized teaching had always been her quiet calling.

Studying at ISUFST came with chaos.

Regina wasn’t just a student—she was a mother to seven: Jerene, a BEED Dean’s Lister; Jaztine, a religious education student at Doanne Baptist Bible Institute; Joy, a Grade 11 student; and four younger children—Jee Ann, Jero, Jimz, and Jana—all in basic education.

While classmates caught up on Netflix, she caught up on chores, laundry, and talipapa runs.

She sold dried fish, offered mani-pedi services, did salon work, and tutored kids to contribute to household expenses and pay for academic needs.

During the pandemic, she walked uphill and downhill to relatives’ houses just to get a decent Wi-Fi signal for online classes.

There were tough days.

Post-pandemic adjustments stirred minor misunderstandings with her husband.

“You focus on supporting the kids, I’ll handle my school expenses,” she once said.

That line became their household mantra.

She hustled—hard.

Every test paper, every feasibility study, every academic requirement was paved with stories of dried fish sold, nails polished, and rice measured sparingly.

What she lacked in time and money, she made up for with tenacity and grace.

Her children are her quiet strength.

“We made do with what we had,” she said.

Despite tight finances, her three eldest children are consistent honor students.

They understood.

They never questioned why there was less food on some days or why their mother was too tired to join cellphone-time marathons.

They knew she was building something—for them.

At ISUFST, Regina found a second home.

She never felt judged for her age.

“People are respectful,” she said.

“My age may show, but maybe so does the wisdom.”

The university’s inclusion of Equity Target Groups (ETG) wasn’t just lip service—it was real.

She saw how ISUFST’s mission to “teach minds, touch hearts, and transform lives” wasn’t just framed on a wall but lived daily—in gestures of support, inclusive spaces, and grace extended to all learners.

Free tuition helped, but the deeper help was an environment that embraced her reality.

ISUFST President Dr. Nordy Siason Jr. reflected, “Stories like Regina’s remind us why ISUFST exists—not just to produce degrees, but to change lives.”

He said progress at ISUFST isn’t measured by prestige alone, but by the people it uplifts.

That aligns with the university’s core values: integrity, social justice, discipline, and academic excellence—all of which Regina embodies quietly but fiercely.

She became a Dean’s Lister in her second year.

“I’m not the best in class,” she admitted.

“But I try.”

Her learning style wasn’t cramming—it was commitment.

She sat in the front row, listened intently, and asked questions.

“I’ve always believed learning isn’t about speed, but about depth.”

Her voice doesn’t preach—it reassures.

Regina has no illusions of grandeur.

After graduation, she plans to work while preparing for the Licensure Examination for Teachers.

She hopes for a role at a private school or under DSWD.

As a 4Ps grantee, her heart is with the underserved.

She has lived the statistics and hopes to change them from within.

“My proudest moment will be when I can finally say: I have work. I am helping.”

To mothers who feel left behind, Regina says, “It is not too late. This is not a race.”

Her advice doesn’t come from textbooks, but experience—seasoned with humility, wrapped in grace.

She urges young ISUFST students not to rush the process.

“Savor the learning,” she said.

“The diploma isn’t just a goal—it’s proof that I [and you] chose not to give up.”

On Thursday, June 5, she will walk across the stage at Tamasak Arena in Barotac Nuevo wearing her dress and toga.

There will be no orchestra or fireworks.

Just a quiet woman from Sitio Pabulayan who walked literal mountains and hills—with grace and grit—to become a teacher.

She will be met not just by applause, but by seven proud children and a husband who has always been at the finish line, waiting.

And that is more than enough. (Herman Lagon, Jose Eugene Salazar, and Joana Paula Biñas / PAMMCO)