On Phenomenal Rush:

An Evaluation on the Daluyong Experience

The Earth is made up of 70% water.

The Philippines, for instance is but a sea of hardwork. Everyday, everyone has something to do. And if there’s none, we seek to do something. Whether it is the daily task of life’s career or the luxury of couch potato schemes, we couldn’t resist not doing anything. No one could just stare into nothingness for the rest of his life. And while the entire populace is plunging unto the depths of working, CvSU doubles the plunge in this pool of more hardwork.

What could have gone wrong?

I woke up half-confident. Well, a busy day is coming ahead, I knew that. Some inspectors from the Accrediting Agency of Chartered Colleges and Universities of the Philippines (AACCUP) would be looking deeply into the whatabouts and whatnots of a few degree programs that the University offers. Moreover, it’s my course, BA Mass Communication which would be one of the programs under inquisition. Thus, the day won’t be jim dandy.

But what could have gone wrong?

Everything, for me, is under control. Our class was assigned to do daily newsletters on a groupings basis, and being in the first group, I, together with my colleagues, would be the first ones to have a taste of the working the Journalist way – that is, for the Accreditation Week. Personally, I saw no problem over what’s gonna happen. For more than three years already, I had experienced and have survived week-long pressworks with daily releases. To me, it was hunky dory.

What, then, could have gone wrong?

The nameplate was done already; the masthead and folio were already layouted. The articles were the only ones being anticipated, together with a few photos. With the schedules given for writing and editing the news articles and layouting, everything was under control. Piece of cake.

Yet, what went wrong?

The whole day was a bit exhausting. While faculty members were rushing in and out of various rooms to attend to the Accreditors and to what must be done, the young journalists were keeping track of the events as well. It wasn’t easy as expected. You don’t just look and the facts you need form a straight line from nothingness to your paper. You don’t just hold a pen and the facts you got form sentences and paragraphs. You don’t just do nothing and get every single thing you need. You must work.

The shifting of scenes went so fast that I found myself in front of the laptop doing my task for that day. I was waiting for the articles being written and checked by my fellow workers. But then, young and unripe as we were, we needed someone to guide us along the way.

Our instructor, fortunately, was there. We were all in these together. However, since the career of our instructor is not in line with journalism, all he was able to do for the group was to guide us, which he did well. As far as the news editing was concerned, we have instructors who majored journalism anyway.

Confident with what the instructors-slash-editors had done with the articles, I went on with my job. I didn’t dare double-check the write-ups; I was confident.

We passed the day’s work. That, is, we thought we did.

I woke up confidently the next day. I felt not the slightest jolt of pain or unease. But then, I was discombobulated to find out that yesterday’s effort was a failure written in Bookman Old Style, All Caps, boldface, font 74. [I’m trying to get the joke out of it. ^^]

The film reel started playing inside my coconut shell. Scenes from the past flashed back – the fast pace of news gathering and interviews, the writing, editing, and layouting. At first look I saw no glitch. At second, it was I who twitched.

Everything went, again, in Technicolor. The pace from frame to frame was so fast. Before I knew it, the film reel was finished and the Accreditation was all over.

We all knew what happened. Several faults have been made, but what actually went wrong?

I couldn’t help blaming some instructors for the job they half-failed to do. For one, I knew they were good instructors. I knew that they were of knowledge with such field, as what their actions try to portray. Why fail, then?

But then, I realized that no one is perfect. Our imperfections should not serve as our flaws to the point that others will criticize us negatively for those. They just did what they could do; they were not even assigned to do the job. They were volunteers. Therefore, I shouldn’t dare blame them for the mistakes we made which they didn’t oversee. I was personally disappointed, but what can I do, I am neither perfect.

In the other groups, there were battles over politeness and ethics. While the interviewer, who is my classmate, was in his own adrenaline rush for them to meet the deadline, the interviewee, who is an instructor, was at the same time stressed over work. The interviewer, who jokes a lot with the interviewee during free time, aimed to ask questions lightly to give a breather. But the latter wasn’t on for some informal conversation. Thus sprouted the impoliteness rub.

They all happened already. Three things were more important now; the apology, the acceptance, and how to make up.

As for the articles, let us all use the experience as a learning tool. We learned a lot not only with how to write news and feature articles, but moreover, how to become journalists in mind and at heart. Like what we clichéishly say, we should always learn from our mistakes.

The world, indeed, is a pool of trials. We should work, we may fail, we may falter. But before quitting or passing on blames to each other, let us not forget that an ocean of opportunities and learnings lie ahead.

Use them wisely!