Grade 12

Batolan Nationa High School, Zambales

I joined the school publication with nothing but a pen, a piece of paper, and hope, but I am leaving with lessons and a clearer purpose that will guide me forward as I prepare to face more complex realities of the unheard.

I was in grade 9 when I learned that the school was reviving the English publication following a two-year hiatus caused by the pandemic. My classmates encouraged me to join, but I was hesitant. My journalistic skills had gone astray since I stopped writing after graduating from elementary school.

Suddenly, I found myself standing in line to register for the role of news writer. Of course, I was worried—it was not my field. But I figured it was an opportunity for redemption, a chance to restore my long-gone academic achiever title. That was my initial purpose of joining.

Our adviser appointed me as the news writer for the Collaborative Desktop Publishing Contest (CPC). Due to the pandemic, I lost the most important asset needed in CPC—my communication skills. It was a challenge.

During the training sessions and up until the main competition, I struggled to interact with my teammates, which became a barrier to the smooth flow of information. As much as I wanted to talk, I could not bring myself to do it. Fortunately, we won third place at the division level, and I was more than happy because it was my first time competing at that level, and I had already come so far.

Every time I look back at that competition, however, I feel a sting because I remember how I received a bit of an attitude from one of my teammates, all because I could not communicate properly. At that time, it was painful, but now I understand her. It was last-minute pressure, after all. I also thanked her for that because she motivated me to be confident enough to engage not only with my teammates but with everyone around me.

At my Second Division Schools Press Conference (DSPC), I felt much more confident and composed than I did a year ago. I met new people and became teammates with individuals I never imagined I would form such strong bonds with. I would describe the division-level competition as relaxed. We were carefree, simply enjoying the moment. The pressure I felt the previous year was nowhere to be found—perhaps it was because of the new environment. To our surprise, our names were called, and we went up on stage to receive the second-place award. It was such an unexpected moment since almost half of our time in the contest room was spent laughing, bantering, and eating. And that was when I realized that it is alright to loosen up once in a while and that nothing good will come from letting ourselves be consumed by negative thoughts.

Then, on my third time competing at the DSPC, the pressure I had once buried came crawling back, threatening to choke me again. During training sessions, I could already feel the tension and the burning determination in my teammates’ eyes. Yet, I chose to ignore it, careful not to let it affect my mindset.

When the competition came, sitting inside the competition room was suffocating. Though we had everything, from the equipment to the information, it felt like we left a part of ourselves behind. We were so silent, the only sound you could hear was the clatter of our typing, and somehow, that was terrifying. I could not help but compare us to what we were the previous year— the cheerful team was nowhere to be found.

During the day of the awarding, we were not expecting much, but we were also hopeful, because we knew that our coach wanted us to reach the regional level. But that did not happen, because for the second year in a row, we found ourselves in the same place: second.

Normally, people would be all smiles on stage, but no trace of happiness could be seen on my teammates’ faces—we were devastated, nothing like the joyful team we had once been while receiving the award.

What I learned from that DSPC season was that mindset is everything. We were so overwhelmed by pressure, the “what ifs,” and the fear of losing that we did not notice we were slowly losing ourselves in the process, and the spark that once made us unstoppable.

This year, our team has gone its separate ways for the better. Although we didn’t win last year, that wasn’t the end. Perhaps we were “not rejected, just redirected.” Besides, journalism is not just about winning—it is a way for the voiceless to be heard, and that is the purpose I found along the way.

Now, it is once again the journalism season, and I wonder what lessons this year will bring to me.

“Voices” is Manila Bulletin Lifestyle’s dedicated space for young writers and future journalists as they talk about the topics that matter to their generation—from pop culture and social trends to mental health, education, and everything in between.

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