The morning hadn’t fully woken, but we already had to. While others were still preparing for the opening parade, we were about to face ours, the quiet, nerve-tightening kind.

Before I even held a pen for a competition, I held a microphone competing for Radio Scriptwriting and Broadcasting in elementary. I was trained to speak, project, and let my voice carry stories that mattered. Writing on the other hand felt quieter, almost unfamiliar.

Stepping into the National Schools Press Conference (NSPC), as a first timer and as a writer, was something that I knew I had to relearn in silence. It felt like I was entering a new world.

We didn’t come expecting to win because stepping into NSPC was already the dream—so what more could we ask for? A spot on the podium? We would have gladly accepted it, but for me, bringing home an award was only a bonus.

We came to Ormoc City for the experience, for the story more than the spotlight.

After the pressure of an early morning contest filled with anxiety, it was replaced with a sense of freedom. While others were still preparing to compete, we were already done. What once seemed like a disadvantage turned into a gift, giving us the chance to stroll and appreciate the beauty of Ormoc City. The sunlit streets were mesmerizing, paired with shared laughter among my teammates—and that alone was enough.

Up close, NSPC wasn’t just about winning. It was about sharing nervous glances between competitors, trying to guess which sport we would be writing about, and the realization that everyone there is just as passionate, just as scared, and just as hopeful as everyone else.

So when the awarding day came, and our names were called and projected onto the LED screen—third place in Collaborative Desktop Publishing (Filipino), I was shocked not because I thought we weren’t capable, but because we finally managed to step on the podium, just like what every campus journalist dreamed of.

Little me, the one who once stood behind a microphone in elementary, would have never believed that one day I’d stand on the NSPC stage not as a broadcaster, but as a writer.

And as I prepare to enter my final year in journalism, I realize that NSPC was never just a competition for me. It became proof that growth sometimes begins in unfamiliar places.

I came into NSPC as a first-timer, unsure and untested. I left not just with a medal, but with a story I didn’t know I was ready to tell.

Because sometimes, a debut isn’t about proving you belong.
Sometimes, it’s about realizing that you already do.