16 YEARS OF SCHOOLING (BADLY WANT YOU TO READ THIS)
It was the 1st day of August last year (2024), I have graduated with my Bachelor of Technology in Livelihood Education major in Home Economics. And this time, my younger brother got his Diploma in Bachelors of Science in Hospitality Management, on the 10th day of July this year (2025). While I attended the ceremony, some sort of light that flashes, and when light disappeared, a lot of realization suddenly comes back to life and one of those that I could bring to the table is that.
We were 6 years in elementary, 4 years in high school, and there's additional 2 years for senior high school, and 4 years in college. Finally, a-two-degree holder in the family.
Back when we were in elementary, my siblings and I truly believed we wouldn’t be able to finish our studies. Life was hard, and we were poor—so poor that even having a decent meal felt like a luxury. I could still remember those nights when we were about to sleep, that we had nice conversations that full of dreams and ambitions. Do you guys have any idea what we were talking about that night? It's about hotdogs, where if we already have a decent job, we will buy a lot of hotdogs. Simple dreams yet meaningful and irreplaceable ambition of a kid. You were once kids too, right? So, you can feel what we felt back then.
There were days when we’d go to school with nothing but soy sauce and vegetable oil as our viand, just to fill our stomachs with something warm. Sometimes, we’d cook instant noodles and stretch the broth so everyone could have a share. One sachet of coffee was stirred into a whole pitcher of hot water, just so our bellies could feel the comfort of something warm in the morning.
The rice we ate wasn’t even white, it was yellow, the kind that today is only fed to chickens. And every single day, we walked we had to walk a long mile away for us to reach our school, rain or shine, because we had no other choice. We got bullied by our classmates because of our yellow-rice; it was way too different than the usual white-rice that they had.
My father, during those times, would often hurt my mother whenever he got drunk. But when he wasn’t drinking, he was actually kind and gentle. It was the alcohol that changed him. Changed that even me that his only daughter couldn't recognize if he still my father.
We could only eat Jollibee when someone gave it to us, and during fiesta, my Mama would wash dishes for a wealthy person she knew just so she could bring home some food for us. I'm actually ashamed to share this to you guys but I don't want to play pretend here.
Even though life was difficult, we did everything we could just to come in school. We tried being working students—helping our teacher, even our cousin—just to earn a little money. We washed clothes, cleaned, cooked, studied, and did every household chore imaginable, all so we could receive a small allowance and afford the basic needs for school.
Life was tough. As working students, our focus wasn’t just on studying—we had to juggle both work and school. But over time, things slowly began to change. Poverty was never a reason to give up on education.
Back then, our meals were just soy sauce, cooking oil, and whatever spices we could find. We’d stretch the soup in our noodles just so everyone could eat. Now, we cook because we crave, and we can pair our noodles with eggs. We no longer mix coffee in one big pitcher—each of us can now stir our own cup with one sachet of coffee. Our rice isn’t yellow anymore because we can finally afford to buy sacks of white rice. We can eat Jollibee when we crave it. We don’t have to walk far because we now have our own motorcycle to ride. And Mama no longer has to wash dishes just to bring home food every afternoon.
Even though our father used to lash out—something painful to accept and think about—we no longer have a father who only showed affection when drunk. Still, we continue with life because we have our beloved mother. She may have endured so much, but by God’s grace, she’s still with us. Indeed, we are together with my family, the one lends also a helping hand, a support system we have now wearing the black toga that symbolizes our academic success.
I was also moved by a viral TikTok post that said, “There’s no longer too much soup in the noodles.” It hit me—yes, the tables have turned, but the chairs are almost empty. Almost, because Mama now focusing on us and Ican see now she's getting old and some of my siblings have their own families. But there are still moments when we gather together, and that’s something I hold dear.
In the end, even if we grew up poor, we learned to appreciate and value what we had. I hope others can take a moral lesson from this: whatever life you have now, be grateful and keep striving. And for those who didn’t have to struggle, cherish your comfort—because not everyone lives the same easy life.
