Entry XIII: Contribute a Jute
As I was preparing my things again for tomorrow's class, arranging my papers and aligning my pens neatly on my desk, a sudden chime rang from my phone. I picked it up, expecting perhaps a reminder or a group chat message about assignments. Instead, it was a message from the College of Engineering officers. I paused for a moment as I read it carefully. There was an announcement that a contribution was being collected for a fellow student whose parent had passed away.
A deep sense of sorrow washed over me. I didn't even need to know whose parent it was. A loss is a loss, and the pain it brings to any family is something indescribable. I took a moment of silence in my room, whispering a prayer of peace for the departed soul and strength for the bereaved family. Death has a strange way of grounding us, making us realize how fragile life is, especially when it hits close to the circle we belong in.
After reflecting on it for a while, I opened our class group chat and composed a message. I told them about the situation and the collection being done by the COE officers. I made it a point to emphasize that there was no fixed amount required. I told them, "Whatever amount you can give, let it come from your heart. Whether small or large, as long as it's sincere, it will mean a lot." I didn't want to impose any amount. I only wanted them to feel that sense of empathy and humanity that we all share.
After making the announcement, I contacted our class treasurer, Jillian. I asked her if she could handle the collection from our classmates. She willingly accepted. I was thankful because she had been very responsible since the beginning of our term. I reminded her that once the contributions were gathered, we should remit them before the end of the day tomorrow. I didn't want any delays, especially with something as sensitive as this.
The following day, as expected, some of our classmates approached us to contribute. I made sure to be there with Jillian, not because I didn't trust her, but because I wanted to support her. Collecting money, especially for something emotional, was not an easy task. When my turn came, I also handed over my contribution. Again, it wasn't about the amount. It was about standing with someone who was grieving.
When the day came to a close, we all gathered, including some COE officers, to turn over the collected amount. It was a solemn moment, but it made me realize how much our college still holds onto compassion and community, despite all the chaos of academic life.
Fast forward to Wednesday. The academic week had resumed in full force. Sir Fitz, our PATHFIT instructor, had an announcement: we were to pay P565 for our PATHFIT uniforms. It wasn't a surprise; he had already hinted before that we'd be getting them. The deadline was set for next week, and we had to start collecting as soon as possible.
I immediately informed Jillian again, and this time, I offered to help her. At that time, we still didn't have an assistant treasurer assigned, so she was basically on her own when it came to collecting. I didn't want her to carry that burden alone. We worked as a team. During vacant periods, I would go around the room, reminding everyone to pay, collecting the money for those who had it ready, and recording everything properly.
The days passed by quickly, and by the following week, most had already paid. At one point, during the dismissal after our PATHFIT class, Sir Fitz caught sight of my black school sweatpants. They weren't the generic kind. In fact, they were my old P.E. sweatpants from my previous school. Sir Fitz smiled as he looked at them and said, "Those are nice pants. I can see they're well made, but the new uniform won't be like that."
I chuckled, appreciating the compliment. As I descended from the bleachers where our class had been gathered, I couldn't help but reflect on what he said. He was right. My sweatpants were something else. They had four external pockets—two on the front and two on the back—and an internal pocket hidden within the netting. They were designed for movement, but also for function. They were durable, versatile, and had served me well since high school.
After collecting for the PATHFIT uniforms, there were other payments to handle too. It seemed like every week, there was something new. Whether it was for activity funds, contributions for materials, or additional fees, it just never stopped. I often found myself wondering if my classmates assumed I was rich. I wasn't. I was just organized, and I knew how to manage responsibilities. Money wasn't something I had in excess, but I did understand the value of discipline and structure.
Even with all the tasks piling up, I made sure everything was recorded and done with clarity. The way we organized the collections and submitted the remittances became smoother. I could see our class functioning more like a system now. Everyone was slowly learning to trust the process and the leadership. It wasn't just about collecting money anymore. It was about accountability, about building habits that would prepare us for bigger responsibilities later in life.
But yes, it was tiring. Very tiring.
Still, there was a certain peace in knowing that all things were being done in order. No chaos, no unrecorded payments, no misplaced funds. I had to pat myself and Jillian on the back for that. The treasurer's role was not an easy one, but with help, it became manageable.
At the end of that week, I once again reviewed our records. I looked at every name, every amount paid, every receipt turned over. Everything was accounted for. It was exhausting work, but in the quiet of my room that Friday night, as I turned off my desk lamp and prepared for sleep, I felt a sense of contentment.
I may not be rich. I may not even be the smartest or most popular. But I do know how to serve. And that, for now, is more than enough.
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