Yesterday was the last day of registration in Ateneo – a very significant date for those who have worked as RegCom volunteers. Not only does “last day” equate banquet, but the last day of second semester registration is particularly significant, as it means the election for the new batch of ExeCom members for the next year.
[At this point, I would like to provide a brief background for those who have absolutely no idea what I’m talking about. The Registration Committee, or RegCom (pronounced as REJ-com, not rEGG-com. We pronounce it as REJ-istration, not r-EGG-istration), is a group of Junior and Senior student volunteers under the Registrar’s Office who facilitate just about anything and everything connected with enrollment. The Executive Committee, or ExeCom, is composed of the RegCom Head, Secretariat Head, Logistics Head, and Assessment Supervisor, and these people are the ones who lead the entire organization.]
Like the rest of my batchmates who served in RegCom, I was invited by some of the outgoing Seniors (who used to be our Juniors) to attend the last day rites and celebration. Of course, I went.:p I wanted to see how they were all doing, from my batchmates, to our Juniors, to our Juniors’ Juniors, and everyone else who falls outside of these, like Sir JJ, who is the Registrar of the Loyola Schools, and who is like our dad in school.
During the video presentation the outgoing Seniors prepared for the Juniors, I was struck by the similarity of RegCom members, no matter from what batch they are coming from. The faces were almost coincidental, because if you compare their pictures with the pictures when we were serving, or even from the batches before us, there’s this almost eerie similarity with all of them. I don’t know if it’s the posture, the way we hold ourselves, our outlooks which are somehow reflected in photo paper, but there’s this something that would identify someone as a member of this prestigious (yes, it truly is) organization. It’s not because we have our own language that we alone could understand, or have inside jokes that only we can laugh at. Who else can understand what RO (not CMT), BatCave, Code Mercury, TC, PC, DC, Pitiker, and ETAs mean? Who else knows Sir JJ, Ate Gemma, Ate Dindin, Ate Carmen, Ate Donna, Kuya Sammy, Kuya Angel, Kuya Joel, Kuya Erick, and the rest of the “unrecognized” people of the admin? Who else would think purple and green pens, along with pink, blue, and white slips of paper are highly significant, or would automatically shush upon entering SS Conference Rooms 1 and 2? Who else would believe that VCDS are core values that are to be lived?
It’s funny. RegCom is one of the reasons why I have truly enjoyed college, yet the beginning of my story with it is far from noble (along with some others, if I were to be honest). During our sophomore year, a couple of friends and I decided to enter RegCom solely because of the early registration privilege. The screening process involved going through an interview, and although I didn’t feel as though it would be a breeze, I was reasonably confident about it. After all, the interviewees were a couple of students just like me, right? Wrong. There were two guys who interviewed me (I would later find out that one is the RegCom Head, and the other is the Logistics Head), and they disabused me of my notion. Sure, they did not smirk or become nasty to me, but they were really unnaturally quiet. If it were nighttime, I probably would have heard the crickets chirping, because they did not say anything that is outside of the questions they were asking me. When asked why I wanted to enter RegCom, I blurted out “For the early registration!” before the words popped in my head, because of the way they just looked at me. Lie detectors would not be needed if they were hired to screen out suspects. After the interview, I honestly did not think that I would be accepted because of the stupidest things that kept popping out of my mouth (out of the hundred or so people who try out, they only accept a small chunk of it). Wonder of wonders! I got accepted! I became really excited about that, but I got deflated again during our first GA. The Seniors were rod-stiff and poker-faced in their seats. The ExeCom members were worse, if that were possible. Even a friend, a self-confessed taray queen, barely managed a squeaky reply when the Head talked to her, after promising that she will freeze him in his shoes with a glare. After the GA, we were made to sign up to the subcommittee we wanted to be part of. At that time, there were only three: Food, Promotions, and Marketing. I really wanted to be in Promotions, but because of the rush to get good slots, I ended up being in the committee that just about everyone avoided, and with good reason: Marketing. I was thinking, “This could not get any worse,” because I ended up in a subcommittee that no one wants to be in, and I also foresaw a very tense relationship we Juniors will have with our Seniors. My guess was not far-off the mark: there were these tensions that developed between the two groups. RegCom’s core values are forcibly ingrained in our heads: Volunteerism, Commitment, Service, and Discipline. It was like entering a military school, because the discipline was really, really intense. You have to try to be perfect in everything that you do, because, as our Head pointed out, “There’s no room for complacency.” To make signs, you have to first fold it 32 times, and then use this color of pen for that purpose, and everything. The Secretariat Head said that our signs should as much as possible not look like it was handwritten. During our time, class schedules had to be written by hand also, and because of the sheer number courses and classes, we ended up taking home work that should be submitted the day after. Call time during prep days and actual registration was at 6 a.m., so I’d get up at around 3:30 and then be off before 5. We’d be dismissed at around 9-10 p.m. because of the number of work that had to be done. The next day would be the same schedule. Even with the nametag, you would still be called “RegCom” (and hopefully by the correct pronunciation!) as though you were a non-person but an entity created solely to serve them (which is in some way true). During actual registration, you will get yelled at by virtually all members of the Loyola Schools community: the students, faculty members, parents of the students, and other employees. What I love saying is that your whole RegCom experience will not be complete if you were not yelled by these people at least once in your career in the organization. The authorities were not much help, because although they did teach us what to do in this or that situation, they weren’t all that friendly about it (if some of my Seniors are reading this, I apologize for this, but this is what I felt and saw at that time). Actually, being “not friendly” is an understatement. I remembered this one time when I wanted to cry out of sheer anger and frustration because of someone who gave me wrong instructions and then suddenly reversed it and made it seem like it was my fault when things fell apart. It was a really horrible experience, and I during those times, I seriously considered leaving the organization. My thoughts were somewhere in the line of, “I am sacrificing my sem break for this?!” Not only do we not have as long a break as the other students, but we had to endure the nastiness of our Seniors as well as the people we have promised to serve. The only compensation we received, not counting the fact the meals we received, was the “early registration privilege,” which did not ensure that we get our first choice of classes. My schedule during the first semester of my Senior year wasn’t the best – my first class started at 0730 a.m. and ends at 0900 pm. The privilege was more of a necessity and not a gift, because we couldn’t have served the students and enrolled for ourselves at the same time. Contrary to popular belief, we don’t paid, unlike the scholars who are also volunteers for the registration period. In my mind, we were just a bunch of sado-masochists. Our former Head said it very well: “We’re a nameless, faceless, and thankless organization.”
Yet I found myself always coming back to serve the students. Even when I have already graduated, I still went back to serve Summer of this year. Sure, we receive all the flack if the registration doesn’t go that well even if we’re not the ones at fault. Sure, we only get free meals out of weeks of working. Sure, we’re probably the most hated organization (which is actually a misnomer; we’re not an org but a student arm of the school administration). Sure, we barely get any rest because we spend our breaks working in school instead of enjoying our sem or summer break. Yet there is this certain fulfillment that we get by working. I have said in that horrible interview that I like helping people, and that did not change. There’s this warm glow of accomplishment that I feel at the end of the reg day, especially if we made the students have an easier – and hopefully happier – registration process. I’ve loved RegCom so much that I did not hesitate to go the extra mile for the organization. When I was made one of the Marketing heads, I gave them my promise that I would do the best that I can. Our batchmates also made the promise that we would not treat our Juniors the way we were treated. That year was great. I did my best to keep the promise that I gave them. I was praying really hard those times for help in getting sponsors, managing them, while balancing it with academics as well as actual registration work, since most of the marketing work – meeting with sponsors, negotiating, etc. – happens during the semester. There were difficulties we’ve encountered –sponsors backing out at the last minute or not paying us at all, red tape, missing paraphernalia of the sponsors, etc., as well as the fact that outside of my co-heads and I, there was barely anyone else working for marketing. Thank God that we overcame through all that, and the sub-committee churned out very good output. We were on really good terms with them, and even now, I can go and just hang with them knowing that they’re not petrified of me (at least, I hope not.:P I don’t think so, though, considering that they love picking on me anyway :D). There were differences, of course; those will never be fully gone. Outside of those, it was really great. The RegCom Room in Colayco will always be a happy place for me.:D I learned so much from the organization not just in terms of the training, which is really amazing, but also but myself. RegCom is definitely a good character builder. It also united very different people into a common purpose, which is amazing. We might have had different reasons to stay, but in the end, we were all in it together, as cliché as that may sound.
[At this point, I would like to provide a brief background for those who have absolutely no idea what I’m talking about. The Registration Committee, or RegCom (pronounced as REJ-com, not rEGG-com. We pronounce it as REJ-istration, not r-EGG-istration), is a group of Junior and Senior student volunteers under the Registrar’s Office who facilitate just about anything and everything connected with enrollment. The Executive Committee, or ExeCom, is composed of the RegCom Head, Secretariat Head, Logistics Head, and Assessment Supervisor, and these people are the ones who lead the entire organization.]
Like the rest of my batchmates who served in RegCom, I was invited by some of the outgoing Seniors (who used to be our Juniors) to attend the last day rites and celebration. Of course, I went.:p I wanted to see how they were all doing, from my batchmates, to our Juniors, to our Juniors’ Juniors, and everyone else who falls outside of these, like Sir JJ, who is the Registrar of the Loyola Schools, and who is like our dad in school.
During the video presentation the outgoing Seniors prepared for the Juniors, I was struck by the similarity of RegCom members, no matter from what batch they are coming from. The faces were almost coincidental, because if you compare their pictures with the pictures when we were serving, or even from the batches before us, there’s this almost eerie similarity with all of them. I don’t know if it’s the posture, the way we hold ourselves, our outlooks which are somehow reflected in photo paper, but there’s this something that would identify someone as a member of this prestigious (yes, it truly is) organization. It’s not because we have our own language that we alone could understand, or have inside jokes that only we can laugh at. Who else can understand what RO (not CMT), BatCave, Code Mercury, TC, PC, DC, Pitiker, and ETAs mean? Who else knows Sir JJ, Ate Gemma, Ate Dindin, Ate Carmen, Ate Donna, Kuya Sammy, Kuya Angel, Kuya Joel, Kuya Erick, and the rest of the “unrecognized” people of the admin? Who else would think purple and green pens, along with pink, blue, and white slips of paper are highly significant, or would automatically shush upon entering SS Conference Rooms 1 and 2? Who else would believe that VCDS are core values that are to be lived?
It’s funny. RegCom is one of the reasons why I have truly enjoyed college, yet the beginning of my story with it is far from noble (along with some others, if I were to be honest). During our sophomore year, a couple of friends and I decided to enter RegCom solely because of the early registration privilege. The screening process involved going through an interview, and although I didn’t feel as though it would be a breeze, I was reasonably confident about it. After all, the interviewees were a couple of students just like me, right? Wrong. There were two guys who interviewed me (I would later find out that one is the RegCom Head, and the other is the Logistics Head), and they disabused me of my notion. Sure, they did not smirk or become nasty to me, but they were really unnaturally quiet. If it were nighttime, I probably would have heard the crickets chirping, because they did not say anything that is outside of the questions they were asking me. When asked why I wanted to enter RegCom, I blurted out “For the early registration!” before the words popped in my head, because of the way they just looked at me. Lie detectors would not be needed if they were hired to screen out suspects. After the interview, I honestly did not think that I would be accepted because of the stupidest things that kept popping out of my mouth (out of the hundred or so people who try out, they only accept a small chunk of it). Wonder of wonders! I got accepted! I became really excited about that, but I got deflated again during our first GA. The Seniors were rod-stiff and poker-faced in their seats. The ExeCom members were worse, if that were possible. Even a friend, a self-confessed taray queen, barely managed a squeaky reply when the Head talked to her, after promising that she will freeze him in his shoes with a glare. After the GA, we were made to sign up to the subcommittee we wanted to be part of. At that time, there were only three: Food, Promotions, and Marketing. I really wanted to be in Promotions, but because of the rush to get good slots, I ended up being in the committee that just about everyone avoided, and with good reason: Marketing. I was thinking, “This could not get any worse,” because I ended up in a subcommittee that no one wants to be in, and I also foresaw a very tense relationship we Juniors will have with our Seniors. My guess was not far-off the mark: there were these tensions that developed between the two groups. RegCom’s core values are forcibly ingrained in our heads: Volunteerism, Commitment, Service, and Discipline. It was like entering a military school, because the discipline was really, really intense. You have to try to be perfect in everything that you do, because, as our Head pointed out, “There’s no room for complacency.” To make signs, you have to first fold it 32 times, and then use this color of pen for that purpose, and everything. The Secretariat Head said that our signs should as much as possible not look like it was handwritten. During our time, class schedules had to be written by hand also, and because of the sheer number courses and classes, we ended up taking home work that should be submitted the day after. Call time during prep days and actual registration was at 6 a.m., so I’d get up at around 3:30 and then be off before 5. We’d be dismissed at around 9-10 p.m. because of the number of work that had to be done. The next day would be the same schedule. Even with the nametag, you would still be called “RegCom” (and hopefully by the correct pronunciation!) as though you were a non-person but an entity created solely to serve them (which is in some way true). During actual registration, you will get yelled at by virtually all members of the Loyola Schools community: the students, faculty members, parents of the students, and other employees. What I love saying is that your whole RegCom experience will not be complete if you were not yelled by these people at least once in your career in the organization. The authorities were not much help, because although they did teach us what to do in this or that situation, they weren’t all that friendly about it (if some of my Seniors are reading this, I apologize for this, but this is what I felt and saw at that time). Actually, being “not friendly” is an understatement. I remembered this one time when I wanted to cry out of sheer anger and frustration because of someone who gave me wrong instructions and then suddenly reversed it and made it seem like it was my fault when things fell apart. It was a really horrible experience, and I during those times, I seriously considered leaving the organization. My thoughts were somewhere in the line of, “I am sacrificing my sem break for this?!” Not only do we not have as long a break as the other students, but we had to endure the nastiness of our Seniors as well as the people we have promised to serve. The only compensation we received, not counting the fact the meals we received, was the “early registration privilege,” which did not ensure that we get our first choice of classes. My schedule during the first semester of my Senior year wasn’t the best – my first class started at 0730 a.m. and ends at 0900 pm. The privilege was more of a necessity and not a gift, because we couldn’t have served the students and enrolled for ourselves at the same time. Contrary to popular belief, we don’t paid, unlike the scholars who are also volunteers for the registration period. In my mind, we were just a bunch of sado-masochists. Our former Head said it very well: “We’re a nameless, faceless, and thankless organization.”
Yet I found myself always coming back to serve the students. Even when I have already graduated, I still went back to serve Summer of this year. Sure, we receive all the flack if the registration doesn’t go that well even if we’re not the ones at fault. Sure, we only get free meals out of weeks of working. Sure, we’re probably the most hated organization (which is actually a misnomer; we’re not an org but a student arm of the school administration). Sure, we barely get any rest because we spend our breaks working in school instead of enjoying our sem or summer break. Yet there is this certain fulfillment that we get by working. I have said in that horrible interview that I like helping people, and that did not change. There’s this warm glow of accomplishment that I feel at the end of the reg day, especially if we made the students have an easier – and hopefully happier – registration process. I’ve loved RegCom so much that I did not hesitate to go the extra mile for the organization. When I was made one of the Marketing heads, I gave them my promise that I would do the best that I can. Our batchmates also made the promise that we would not treat our Juniors the way we were treated. That year was great. I did my best to keep the promise that I gave them. I was praying really hard those times for help in getting sponsors, managing them, while balancing it with academics as well as actual registration work, since most of the marketing work – meeting with sponsors, negotiating, etc. – happens during the semester. There were difficulties we’ve encountered –sponsors backing out at the last minute or not paying us at all, red tape, missing paraphernalia of the sponsors, etc., as well as the fact that outside of my co-heads and I, there was barely anyone else working for marketing. Thank God that we overcame through all that, and the sub-committee churned out very good output. We were on really good terms with them, and even now, I can go and just hang with them knowing that they’re not petrified of me (at least, I hope not.:P I don’t think so, though, considering that they love picking on me anyway :D). There were differences, of course; those will never be fully gone. Outside of those, it was really great. The RegCom Room in Colayco will always be a happy place for me.:D I learned so much from the organization not just in terms of the training, which is really amazing, but also but myself. RegCom is definitely a good character builder. It also united very different people into a common purpose, which is amazing. We might have had different reasons to stay, but in the end, we were all in it together, as cliché as that may sound.
---
During our first Legal Profession meeting last Friday, our professor made us write a short essay in answer to a question, which went something like, “Do you have a sincere desire to study law, or is it just for the glamour in society?” Although I already knew what my answer would be, the question still made me pause. Why am I in law school? It’s something that I haven’t asked myself since I entered, as my question before was always, “Why am I still in law school?” Amazing how a single word can change the entire meaning of a sentence. Anyway, I’m digressing. Of course, one reason will be because my mom wants me to. I’d be lying if I said that that’s not a factor in my choice. However, if there was no genuine desire for me to go, I would not have gone through the exam and to school no matter what people would have said.
Right off the bat, I can say that I’m not in it for the honor that society will give me. I never really cared what people would say about me, so it doesn’t matter whether they’d glorify me or look down on me. One reason why I wanted to study law is purely for academic reasons. I have always loved social sciences and humanities fields such as sociology (although my teacher in college wasn’t all that great), psychology, history, and philosophy. I like knowing about how the human mind works, and why people make this or that choice in their lives, and all that. It also allows me to broaden my mind, because these disciplines make you look at things from different perspectives and not limit you to only one or a couple of points-of-view. That was what drew me to law: the ability to be able to interpret the law and situations in different ways (yes, I can be nerdy. Sue me, especially if you find out the extent of my nerdiness). The other thing is quite funny. I keep talking (and knowing) about my cynicism, yet there are certain things where I am hopelessly idealistic of. This is one of them. I want to go into law because I believe there is still hope for our country. There are so many corrupt, twisted people here, yet I still believe that we can still have a bright future. I want to help make that change happen, even if my contribution would not be something gargantuan so as to be immediately noticeable. I want to help those who need it, but who do not have the means to have it. I want to let others know that they can make a change if they just desire for it. I know that God does not want us to fry in our own oil, and I know He has better plans for us, and it’s something that we can reach. This is something that makes me optimistic, because a law degree is not needed to achieve that. It will definitely help, because it gives the opportunity to reach out to those who we normally would not have access to. That’s why I want to go into the profession. If it’s not His Will for me to continue on, there are still other ways to make that change happen.
This is now my second semester in law school. Whatever may happen, may it be His Will that may happen. Might I be able to take care of what has been entrusted to me.
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