Entry VIII: Warm-Up
Another week has passed, and this one felt more exhausting than the last. I've grown used to the flow of things—the usual attendance checking, class announcements, collecting requirements, reminding everyone—but this time, it was different. The fatigue seeped into my bones not from stress or paperwork, but from something far more physical: PATHFIT 101.
Sir Fitzgerald George Tacbasan—who we call Sir Fitz—was relentless. Our PATHFIT session turned into a boot camp. He had us do a series of exercises, one after another, without much rest in between. While my classmates stretched and strained their muscles, I tried to focus on checking attendance. Normally, I would signal the class secretary to take over when I needed help, but this time, I looked over and realized he wasn't even there.
Turns out, Secretary Aludino is already done with PATHFIT 101. Being a shiftee from second year, he's currently in PATHFIT 103. I felt my heart sink. That meant I was alone in monitoring the list, and the absences were piling up. I knew I had to appoint an Assistant Secretary soon, someone who could back me up in moments like this. So after class, I asked around. No one volunteered.
Everyone just told me, "We trust you with that, Mayor."
It was flattering, sure, but at the same time, it weighed heavily on my shoulders. Trust is a responsibility. And in my case, it's one that doesn't come with rest.
Later in the week, the Governor of our College suddenly messaged us—our GC for the officers. Another online meeting. I sighed and looked at the time: 6 PM on a Saturday. Again.
The topic this time? The upcoming SDSSU Intramurals.
Sir Governor discussed everything—the mechanics, the flow, and most especially, the events lined up for students from different colleges. From sports to cultural competitions, everything was included. He emphasized that we, the officers, should start looking for participants right away. We were tasked to find representatives ready to compete in the various events.
After that meeting, I immediately reached out to my co-officers. We held an emergency online discussion. One of them even joined the meeting while still on a bus, on the way home. I felt incredibly sorry for him. I wanted to apologize but... I didn't have the courage to do so. Maybe I should've said something.
During the meeting, I laid down everything that the Governor had announced. One officer then suggested that we should have a full-class meeting to determine who wanted to join which event. I agreed.
Afterward, I posted an announcement in our class group chat:
"Good evening everyone, tomorrow we'll be having a short online meeting. Agenda: Intramurals. Please be present."
The next day, we held the online meeting. I explained the different sports that we needed participants for. I was surprised—but also relieved—that my classmates began volunteering one by one. One stepped forward for basketball, another for baseball, one for volleyball, and someone else for sepak takraw.
Then I mentioned something important. I said, "Let's support our basketball team especially, since Mr. Valerio will be coaching that event."
They all seemed to agree. We decided to go all out for our basketball team, and I was appointed to be one of the cheerers along with BSSE 4. I am also appointed as one of the food coordinators for it, yet I don't know what to do, and I felt like 'If I ask them, that will make my face look like an idiot, especially in digital form and I'm always the one asking for clarifications during meetings'. That was much, yet to clarify is to validate and to execute clearly and orderly. It felt exciting, honestly. The thought of cheering for something we prepared for was something new. Something I could look forward to.
On my desk, papers filing ranging from A4 papers, to Yellow Pad and index card, yet I clean every week, but it will be filling and piling again on my table after 2 days of work. Keeping track of record, and so much more. I don't even know where I put some of my pens and pencils. Yet life always have a turn and twist.
When Monday came, things escalated quickly.
Different teachers started announcing that joining the events would be considered part of our grades. That was a game changer. Suddenly, almost everyone wanted to join something. Those who weren't initially interested suddenly became enthusiastic. By the end of the day, aside from the four main athletes, 31 out of 43 of us agreed to join the Bench Yell Cheering team.
Bench Yell is no joke. It's not just shouting from the sidelines. It's choreography, voice projection, energy, coordination—it's a full performance. We had to begin practicing immediately.
Because of this, some of our classes were shortened. Some teachers, upon knowing our schedules, allowed us to practice and told us, "Do your best. Represent us well."
It was motivating to hear that kind of support.
And so, we did. We practiced hard. We sweated and stumbled, but each time we fell out of sync, we corrected and tried again. It felt like a family. The unity during those rehearsals was something I rarely see in regular academic days.
We go outside of the school to a court in the village and somehow, I lost my blue tumbler there, and it was never seen again. But there I'm always leading my fellow classmates. In one spot, we put all bags for BSCE 1-Roebling there.
It's funny to think that just a few days ago, I was stressed over attendance and appointment issues, and now here we are, shouting chants and perfecting claps and movements for a cheering competition. The shift in energy was massive—but needed.
However, even Bench Yell, the attendance is always there. But there's always a smirk on my face, even though the job is sometimes very crucial, tiring, and draining.
Despite the exhaustion, I could feel the passion. Even if the week started off draining, it ended on a high note. Maybe not a restful one, but one that had us all moving toward something we could be proud of.
Looking back, what made me truly tired wasn't just the physical strain from PATHFIT or the overwhelming tasks as Mayor. It was the constant shift in responsibility—from being the leader in academics to being a cheerleader, from chasing absences to chasing formations. But amidst the chaos, I realized something: I'm capable. I can adapt. I can lead.
And maybe, just maybe, we'll win that Bench Yell. Not just because we practiced, but because we supported each other with everything we had.
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