Chapter III - Journalistic Resurgence

My thoughts brought me back in time when I met an old mentor in an unforgettable experience.

Qualifying for the National Schools Press Conference (NSPC) was the absolute dream for every student journalist. Such accomplishment cemented the legacy of anyone who achieved it. Auspiciously, I had my own successful campaign. Thus, attaining the opportunity to represent our region in Sports Writing (English) during the 2011 NSPC which was held at Butuan City, Agusan del Norte.

The road to NSPC seemed to be filled with anticlimactic bolts from the blue. To reach such objective, a student journalist must pass through several stages: the Sectoral, Division and Regional Schools Press Conferences.

In the Sectoral level, one must compete against other student journalists within a certain district - Top 10 winners will advance to the Division phase.

On the other hand, one must vie alongside Sectoral level winners within the province in the Division level - Top five winners will advance to the Regional phase.

The Regional level is the penultimate leg. Victorious writers from each provinces and cities within the region will have to get to at least top three in order to advance to the sought-after NSPC.

During this magnificent stint, I met Emerlina Arnante. Ma'am "Merl" represented a famous school in Pili, Camarines Sur during the 2011 NSPC. From that moment, we became extremely close to each other. She was a mother to me. I could scrupulously say that without her, I would never be who I am now.

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"Emerlina Arnante, look at you," I clowned.

With an odd-look, she stared at me. Well, I had my hair cut before I returned to our province. My usual boy-next-door look was completely altered after a semi-bald do-over.

As soon as she recognized me, she immediately vaulted to give me a warm hug.

"You! Naughty bastard," - she exclaimed.

"What are you doing here?"

"I teach here. Don't tell me?"

"Yeah, I'm in."

A wide beam was etched from her face. "You should join Nexus."

"Nexus?"

"Yes, the official publication of Baao Community College."

A sudden leap of faith sprung within me. "Yes! I would love to!"

"Come with me. I'll show you around."

Comically, as we walked around the school premises, she introduced me to everyone we saw. It felt encouraging but, most of all, it also brought tension to my nerves. People knew me already - and there she was, announcing my arrival to all and sundry in our wake.

Yet, I learned one thing when I lived alone in Manila - I eat pressure for breakfast.

Finally, we reached Nexus office where two ladies and a gentleman were.

"Guys! This is Patrick Prado, our new staff," Ma'am Merl broadcasted. "Patrick, these are Princess, Joyce and Allan."

It felt really awkward at first, but I managed to let out a smile. Besides, they obviously thought otherwise.

They were quite busy with enormous paperwork as the deadline for their newsletter release came closer. To my surprise, Ma'am Merl instructed me to take photographs of the students who were processing their enrolment. The selected output will be used as the front page cover for the newssheet. Knowing that it was a perfect time for me to showcase my skill, without any ado, I agreed - thinking such task will be very easy.

Until I remembered that photojournalism wasn't my cup of tea.

Photojournalism - is a field in journalism in which a written copy is subordinate to pictorial usually photographic presentation of news stories or in which a high proportion of pictorial is used (Merriam Webster Dictionary).

Surely, I was adept in creating photo captions - but not taking the actual photo itself. I sucked at it. At some point, a very important person in my life taught me how to properly capture photos. Nonetheless, it's been a while since I last held a DSLR (digital single-lens reflex) camera.

I was hesitant, for sure.

Eating pressure for breakfast no longer applied as it was almost lunch time.

"Well, I guess I have to do it," I shrugged.

As I emerged from the stairs, the vexing noise started to reverberate. I instantly felt debauched as a rampaging flock of students were blocking the way to the Registrar's Office. Furthermore, the scalding heat of the sun plus the countless number of students who were lined up gave it a nauseating atmosphere.

To my frustration, I went back to the Nexus Office where only Allan was left.

"Hey, Allan? You're the Editor-in-chief, right?"

"Y-yeah. What's the matter? You look irksome."

"Well, I'm having a hard time passing by the students upstairs. Plus, the heat added up to the intensity of the situation. I can't take photographs like this."

Suddenly, Joyce butted in. "I can help you."

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Dr. Reyes' scheduled rounds came but there were no signs from the doctor. Angel's mom was really infuriated because it wasn't the first time that the doctor did not appear when needed. At the same time, the red spots on Angel's skin began to turn blackish - and it didn't look good.

Angel worked for a Casino company in Parañaque City for almost a year. The pay was undeniably more than what was expected. The only issue was her working environment. Since smoking was allowed in casinos, she became vulnerable to its detriments.

"Will Pat make it today?" Angel weakly asked.

"No, sweetheart. He's in school, processing his enrolment," her mom answered.

"I already told him to continue working instead!"

"But, sweetheart he's..."

"NO!"

She turned her back from her mother and silently wept. It wasn't what she wanted to happen. Supposedly, she forced me to continue working so I could help with her hospital expenses. But I decided not to turn down the limited opportunity to study again.

Likewise, this will be the last time that institutions accepted students who didn't undergo Senior High School per an ordinance submitted by the Commission on Higher Education.

Personally, working was never a problem. There were just hundreds of reasons why I had to leave it and come back to my scholastic vision. Also, her constant, baffling attitude towards me solidified my choice. Why was she even mad at me? Why is she fine with everyone else, but me? What if she doesn't love me anymore?

The myriad or whys and what ifs led me to no avail.

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"Are you sure about this, Joyce?"

"Yes! Ready?"

I wasn't really decisive about it, but it was worth a try.

Joyce faced the seething crowd and cannoned a deafening roar.

"ATTENTION!"

To my disbelief, the once loud, outrageous and unorganized throng of enrollees were stunned. The atmosphere went straight from fuming to blustery, and the clamor from riot-like to placid.

"Damn, girl," I grinned.