No one warned me that the most thought-provoking part of judging a university-wide non-teaching personnel event would happen at the foot of the picturesque Almadria Highlands in Talisay City, Negros Occidental. As an academician, I expected fashion, talent, and maybe a few standing ovations. But I did not expect a Q&A
July 31, 2025
During a quick stop at a quiet café near UP Visayas, I found myself saying something I never thought I would—defending President Bongbong Marcos Jr. It was not because I had changed sides, nor because I had forgotten Martial Law’s shadows or the promise of the Leni Robredo movement. It was
July 30, 2025
Some homecomings are planned with fanfare, others unfold like stories long overdue. But there are rare ones that feel like stepping back into your own skin. That is what happened on July 27, 2025, at the UP Visayas Little Theater, where scores of educators—some gray-haired, some newly promoted, most somewhere in
July 29, 2025
At a small carinderia just a few minutes’ walk from the district hospital, I overheard a tricycle driver explaining to his seatmate, ““Kun indi mo maalagaan ang imo amay, pwede ka kuno prisuhon.” The other man, who appeared to be in his early 30s, laughed uneasily and replied, “Eh paano kun
July 27, 2025
This weekend, I will be coming home twice—once in blue, once in maroon. Two schools. Two identities. Two sets of memories. But one grateful heart returning to where so much of who I am was shaped, sharpened, and sent out into the world. On Saturday night, July 26, I will walk
July 26, 2025
It was barely 4:30 a.m. when a rush of messages flooded my phone: “May klase kita, Sir?” From my time as a principal in a basic education school, up until now in college, this question has never gone out of fashion. And why would it? It encapsulates the unique, rain-soaked uncertainty
July 25, 2025
“Pagod na ako.” It is a line we hear in jeepney rides, in pantry corners, and after long hours at work. But it is not just tiredness—it is the kind that wears down the soul. The kind built from unseen effort, unpaid extras, workplace dissonance, and staying too long in a
July 24, 2025
It was a Monday morning of June 4, 2001, when I first heard the name Francis Xavier. I was a newbie in my fresh, checkered polo uniform and black slacks, nervously adjusting to the rhythm of a Jesuit school. We were in the chapel of what was then Santa Maria Catholic
July 23, 2025
Come graduation season, social media floods with proud posts—caps mid-air, Latin honors gleaming, heartfelt thanks to parents and professors. Then one post stops you. “Sana hindi n’yo na lang ako ipinanganak (I wish you had never given birth to me.).” It does not cheer. It does not thank. It stares you
July 22, 2025
It all started over coffee, iced choco, and a cake named “Better than Sex”—not a formal memo, just a spark of an idea between colleagues at Coffeebreak. “Let’s gather the M.Ed. alumni,” Dr. Jonny Pornel of the UPV Division of Professional Education said during the casual talk. That small moment has
July 21, 2025
The online Swapcard room was quiet—but not the minds in it. At STEP Conference 2025 last Friday, July 18, inside a humble but buzzing concurrent session sponsored by Ateneo de Davao University, I presented my research entitled “Drawing Understanding: A Phenomenological Study on Pre-Service Teachers’ Experiences with Desmos in Analytic Geometry” online, while
July 20, 2025
The clack of the typewriter still echoes in my memory – my report on LASER taking shape under the steady guide of my Grade 7 Science Teacher, Ma’am Zenaida Espino. I pieced it together from volumes of encyclopedias, journals, textbooks, indices, and clippings in the dusty UI High library, each keystroke
July 19, 2025
