The tail end of the past two semesters had always filled me with relief. Finally clearing out gigabytes’ worth of documents and crumpling assessments that reflect my sleepless nights—it meant that I would once again taste the intoxicating fruit of my labor: a Dean’s Lister average.

But even trees known for the sweetest fruits could, one season, grow bitter. Just a few hundredths short, and that title was suddenly impossible to harvest.

Despite my protests, Christmas break flashed by. Walking the familiar halls of the Arts Building to our new class, the air around me billowed with feelings of regret and incompetence. In an attempt to soothe my glumness, KC—my friend of almost two years—broke the ice: “I think sa sobrang daming gawain—sabay pa ‘yung ibang responsibilities and problems in life—hindi mo na kinaya mapagsabay pa lahat.”

Jilliana, walking beside us, nodded. “And biggest factor din ‘yung way ng pagtuturo ng teacher. Kung hindi consistent or hindi effective ang pagtuturo, pati ang students maaapektuhan.”

I listened intently, a tiny smile creeping up as their words tended a wounded spot.

“Never stop dreaming and strive harder,” Jilliana urged with a consoling tone, “possible na may pagkukulang ka, pero hindi ibig sabihin hindi mo na deserve makabalik. Ipakita mo kung ano ang kaya mo pang ibigay.”

Though their warm sentiments echoed in my mind, I couldn’t help but drown them out, convinced that none of my efforts were worth any solace. 

During my vacant time, I met up with someone whose schedule finally intertwined with mine—Maxine, the girl I had suffered my hell week nights with at different cafés.

“How did you manage to stay as a Dean’s Lister?” I whispered, my tone blending with the mellowness of the café. She stared in thought for a while.

“Siguro kasi lagi akong nag-aaral ‘pag may quiz at exam,” she answered, expanding on how she puts as much effort as possible to study both her minor and major courses.

Even though we burned our eyebrows the same, it seemed mine weren’t singed enough to count.

“Minsan kasi kahit super effort mo, if mahirap talaga sayo or kaya hindi mo talaga ma-gets—ayon.” 

We finished our coffees, and before we parted ways, she clasped my wrist to ground me. She reminded me that I could always recover next semester, that being a Dean’s Lister was only an additional merit, and what’s more important was giving my best and learning. I nodded and smiled warmly at her before leaving.

Nearing my dormitory, I bumped into Jessica, a campus friend. As we walked, I discovered that she hadn’t made the Dean’s List either. As a scholar, the pressure weighing her down grew exponentially.

My classmates’ words were bright, almost blinding me from self-blame. Maxine’s words acquainted me with the idea of my own limits being a liability. But Jessica’s struck a surface neither of them reached.

“Sana mas gamitin mo ‘yung pressure na ‘yon to fuel your perseverance. Kapitan mo ‘yung grit na ‘yon and ‘yung fuel sa heart mo na mas ma-attain ‘yung goal na gusto mo. Huwag ka magpapakain sa pressure, but instead use it as your weapon.” To hear these words from someone who knew the feeling was both validating and galvanizing. 

Though everyone’s thoughts differed, all of them led to the same realization—being a Dean’s Lister is an honor, but not a lifeline. Circumstances vary, and though they may hinder us temporarily, opportunities will always be waiting—quietly, persistently. 

I sat at my study table, pressing last semester between the pages before turning to the next.

- Russell Ognes

(Illustration by Miles Munich Montreal Jimenez/FEU Advocate)