Entry X: Let the Games Begin!
The campus was still ringing with the excitement of our Bench Yell performance when the opening ceremony for the SDSSU Intramurals began. I had forgotten to include this in my last entry, but right after we finished performing and stepping down from the bleachers, everyone gathered at the back of the university for the official opening ceremony. The moment was lit up—literally. A burst of colorful fireworks painted the sky, and all of us students cheered in amazement as they danced in bright hues above our heads. It was magical, like the universe had opened up a window just for us to enjoy a spectacle after our hard work.
But amidst the oohs and aahs of my classmates, something changed for me. I suddenly caught a whiff of gunpowder, and just like that, my asthma kicked in. I tried not to let it show, controlling my breathing as best I could, but I knew I had to step away for a bit. It wasn't the first time this had happened, but it reminded me that even in the most exciting moments, my body has limits.
Days after the Bench Yell and opening ceremony, I gathered my officers for an online meeting. We needed to coordinate our tasks during the entire span of the Intramurals. As Class Mayor, the weight of responsibility was again on my shoulders, but I was ready to bear it. During the meeting, I specifically brought up the need to assign people to two fronts: the food committee and the cheering squad for our basketball team. I wasn't sure if the officers could handle both roles, so I consulted with one of the members of EDSA (Engineering Department Student Association) during the meeting.
"Can the officers be allowed to serve under the food committee and also cheer for the basketball team?" I asked.
To my relief, the EDSA member confirmed that it was possible. "Yes, the officers can suffice in cheering and food support," they told me. That gave me confidence to move forward.
At that point, I asked the group if they had any clarifications. Most of them were quiet, probably either overwhelmed or thinking about the responsibilities ahead. Only Bailey raised a question.
"Is attendance a must?" he asked.
"Yes," I answered firmly. "Attendance affects grades. Some teachers, like Mr. Valerio, Engr. Cornelio, Engr. Narvaez, and Engr. Lobel will be checking attendance or at least keeping track. It's important we all participate actively."
Then, as Monday came, Engr. Lobel made an announcement in our group chat. He informed us that our presence was required at the northern barangay court of Nueva Sevilla. That place was almost in the semi-inner city, not too far, but definitely not walking distance either.
And here's the kicker—I don't know how to drive a motorcycle. That meant I had no choice but to commute, and of course, pay tricycle fares out of my own pocket. There I was, balancing responsibilities, trying to save money, and trying to do everything I could to keep my class in order.
When I arrived at the court, I began collecting the attendance as usual. But before even reaching that point, I had first asked our Class Secretary if he could do the attendance collection since I was already juggling multiple things. Unfortunately, he declined. "I can't," he said. "I'm already assigned to the creatives committee."
So again, the responsibility fell on me.
I immediately posted in our group chat: "Everyone, please head to the court now. Attendance will be taken."
Hours passed, and I was still at the court, watching over things and trying to manage the logistics. As the day went on, I realized I needed to get back to the university to support our basketball team. That meant another tricycle ride and another fare.
When I reached the university and settled into the gymnasium, I opened the attendance sheet—and my heart sank. Some of the names from the court hadn't signed in. I was stunned. I messaged them immediately and told them to head to the university. Thankfully, some of them made it in time and signed the attendance. Others, sadly, didn't. They failed to comply, and that meant they wouldn't receive any credit.
Once the list was finalized, I handed the attendance sheet to Mr. Valerio in the gymnasium. He received it with a nod, and I felt a slight weight lift off my shoulders. But the exhaustion lingered.
People assume that I live comfortably, maybe even that I'm well-off. They think that because I can move around and organize events, I must be rich. But that's far from the truth. I am not rich—not in money. What I have is a sense of duty. I know the value of hard work, and I understand how much every centavo counts. That's why these endless tricycle fares, these endless responsibilities, they hit harder than most people realize.
When the Intramurals finally came to an end on the seventh day, I could almost feel my legs thanking me for the break. Just as I thought I could rest, another responsibility surfaced. One of the teachers asked me to compile the names of everyone who participated in the Intramurals.
Once again, I opened our class group chat. "Everyone, please fill out this form. It's for the Intramurals participation list."
Most of the students complied, and everything was going smoothly until I made a mistake. I had accidentally included one of my classmates in the Bench Yell team—a person who didn't actually participate in that specific event. He approached me via private message, clearly upset.
"Hey, I wasn't part of the Bench Yell. Why did you put my name there?" he said.
I immediately apologized. "Sorry, that was my mistake. I'll correct it right away."
I rechecked the list thoroughly, making sure every name was in its proper place, categorized correctly by event. Once I was confident everything was accurate, I submitted the corrected list to the teacher.
It didn't end there, though. Other teachers also asked for copies, but with different formats. Some wanted a formal file, while others were fine with me simply typing it into the group chat for their subject.
That pretty much sums up the entire Intramurals week. It was long, exhausting, full of highs and lows. But what I gained from it can never be measured by grades alone. I learned how to lead under pressure, how to serve despite exhaustion, and how to admit and correct mistakes. And while I may not be rich in money, I have a wealth of experience and a heart determined to serve.
Maybe that's more than enough for now.
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