Tahanan ng mga taga PEYUPS

TRES*

Written By: Jesse Nicole Rubio Santos

(This was published in print in the 11th issue of The Manila Collegian on October 10, 2011.)

If perfect marks comprise the holy grail of a student’s academic existence, then I might have fallen from grace a long time ago.

Because in a world where an exam-filled day earns the label of bitayday, and panic rises at the sight of a grade that is a notch lower than the highest one, it seems that grades matter more than they should. Students, especially those used to the homogeneity of being grouped with the achievers, perceive grades as the means and ends of everything. Life should revolve around these, and in turn, these should not adapt to how you want to live your life. Academics should reign supreme; if you falter somewhere along the way, it is immediately seen as a sign of weakness or an emulation of a flaw that would be utterly humiliating to reveal.

Grades became the epitome of a person’s character, and the measure of intelligence. By this mishap of a label, the dynamism of the studentry has been reduced to producing good grades; that somewhere along the way the love for learning itself has been lost.  

And yes, as someone whose academic record slid a little during the past semester, I took these numbers to heart. It compelled me to not only take drastic yet just as catastrophic action, but also to contemplate about the vile predicament, and worst of all, consider myself a failure.

The sad thing is, whenever my parents see me surrounded with piles of readings and papers, they think I’m going to receive class cards printed with immaculate numbers. And I just can’t say, “Mom, I’m nowhere near where you want me to be.” But I’m trying, always trying, even if surviving is all I can attain. Truth is, more than disappointing anyone else, what hurts the most is that I might have just failed myself.

I don’t know if I succumbed to unrelenting laziness, took my subjects for granted, or simply lacked the capability to cope with the requirements. I know that I exerted great effort in all possible endeavors. Yet despite all the exhaustion, the results do not even touch the surface of satisfaction. Survival has been attained, but excellence is far from my grasp. Even if I put up a good fight, I lost. When your best isn’t good enough, what is?

And all this turns into a ravenous self-doubt that no amount of ice cream could possibly get rid of. At this point, it is so difficult to find words of inspiration to dispel all the lament and pessimism. Things do not always follow a smooth course. And even if taking refuge in the thought that everything will be alright can provide temporary comfort, there is still no guarantee that the thought will materialize.

Behind every mark is a story of how it has been attained. An unodoes not always equate to intelligence, in the same way that asingko does not always mean laziness. The person who achieved the highest grade is not always the best, and likewise, the one who achieved a passing mark is not at all deficient.

In the same vein, a bad attendance record never depicts the story behind every mark of tardiness; that the engine of the bus you rode just happened to disintegrate in the middle of the road or the heavens that day just felt a tad melancholic and wreaked flood-induced havoc along Taft. Last night, you just had to finish a requirement for your beloved organization, leaving you sleep-deprived. And sometimes the alarm clock just isn’t capable of waking you up any more than your mother can.

Grades can never account for experiences. Numbers can never give justice to sleepless nights, caffeine-induced trances, and ineffable worries over dreaded requirements. The effort invested in producing a draft amidst tons of other paperwork can never be accounted for by a mere number. The relationships involuntarily strained by gridlocks during group works, sparse bonding time, or misunderstandings wrought from academically toxic dispositions just aren’t worth it.

Still, grades comprise an integral component of academic life. The significance of these marks is not to be downplayed; life, however, should not revolve around these. Education is more than that. Life should be more than that.

Because at the end of the day, no matter how much grades can seemingly quantify a student’s very being, each one has more to offer than what numbers can measure.

Marks can never define who you are nor dictate who you should be. And as an irrevocable and indisputable truth, grades can never predict who you will eventually become.

*Escaping a dreaded subject barely unscathed.