How To Move On

T R A N S F E R

I studied in a private, international school for the first 12 years of my life. It might not seem that long, but to a kid who has never tried an education elsewhere, it almost feels impossible to leave. That school was my second home. I don't remember a day when I didn't want to go to school. I was carefree because the curriculum was as light on students as a butterfly would be on a leaf. I had classmates who were from every part of the globe, and I developed a proficiency in the universal language that eventually felt like second nature. I got to share my talents a lot (as the administration would make me sing in the various programs), I performed in two school concerts, and I graduated with flying colors. My future was looking bright (as was the name of the school, B.R.I.G.H.T Academy) because I thought that I'd get to spend the rest of my pre-college years in what I thought was the best school in the world. But all of that changed when my mother told me that I had to transfer to a school I had never heard of before: Mandaue City Science High School.

I cried a lot, when she told me this. I was still in a state of denial when I tearfully delivered the valedictory speech, and even as I took the Grade 7 entrance exam. But there were some circumstances in the family that forced me to give up my childish dreams. So even though I left my second home with a heavy heart, I rejoiced in the fact that I passed the entrance exam, and that I'd get to experience life in (what my mother told me was) the school with the smartest people in all of the city.

The effects of being transferred from one environment to a whole new world are what one might call "culture shock". Everything I had grown accustomed to was the exact opposite in this strange land. The curriculum was rigorous! There were nights in my first year (and until the fourth) when I only had an hour of sleep, because I was too afraid to do any homework in school. Being at the top of the class back in grade school meant nothing here if you didn't push yourself to the limit. There were around 13 subjects per day; we started at 7 AM but ended at 6 PM. There was always something to do, and I almost never went out of the house. I guess, if my former classmates saw the situation I was in, they'd call it a nightmare, because that was how I saw it at first.

But despite all of that, I believe that transferring has made me a better person, academically, socially, and holistically. I used to be surrounded by rich socialites whose parents bought them iPads at the slightest suggestion, and I couldn't relate to them at that level. Being in Mansci has enabled me to connect with people who were more or less in the same social standing, who shared the same financial sentiments, and the same household woes. The pressure that has "cooked" me these past few years from all the outlandish outputs I had to produce has made me virtually invincible. I used to sing in school programs, but being in a government institution has brought me to interschool, regional, and national competitions - something I could only dream of back in Bright, and something you could only do if you were a member of the school's various varsity teams. Indeed, I've done things my 12-year-old self would have gawked at in awe, all because my parents knew what was best for me.

I might have started life at a guarded, comfortable school, but I could say that my life truly began in the legendary battlefield of Mansci. If I could go back in time to when I was at the precipice of leaving Bright, I'd tell myself: "Don't fret. Great things are ahead of you. This is where you belong."

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