A Second Chance

A SECOND CHANCE

          I have never taken an affinity towards leadership roles, but they have always taken a liking towards me. Back in my sophomore year in high school I was elected as part of the seven core group officers of the Youth Christian Life Community (YCLC). The seven of us would take office the following year, and I was elated. I was not even aware that I had been nominated because I was absent during voting day.

          The process of being elected into the core group of the YCLC was quite unique. The members would first vote among themselves who they wanted to be in it. Then the incumbent core group and faculty members of the organization chose the final seven officers from the twelve who got the most number of member votes. My success I attributed to my almost spotless attendance record in meetings and special events. My befriending current officers and other members surely boosted my chances as well.

          At the beginning of my junior year, I attempted to run for class secretary, but my class adviser announced that only students in the honor roll could run for office. I did not understand why the school was prejudiced against ordinary students like me. I then decided that by fulfilling my responsibilities as an officer of the YCLC, I could prove that one need not be academically excellent to be a good leader.

          Ironically, my responsibilities came during a time when my academics were taking a turn for the worse. I was failing in mathematics, and barely passing in Chinese. As an officer of the YCLC I was in charge of facilitating the organization’s weekly Wednesday meetings. I was able to accomplish this task for a few weeks, but my grades began to suffer afterwards, dragging down with it my performance as an officer.

          A few days before the end of my junior year I was approached by the prefect of the YCLC. His disappointment was clear in the way his forehead was knotted and glistening with sweat, shining against the reddening complexion of his face. I had been avoiding him as much as possible by skipping our core group meetings and the regular organization meetings which I was supposed to be handling.

          He kept staring at me, his teeth gritted together, his words dying to be released, until we were within touching distance. Then, he asked, “Verne, what’s wrong? Why can’t you do your job? I don’t understand.”

          It was then that I realized why class officer positions were not offered to students who were not on the honor role. How could one lead others when one cannot even take care of himself? On the other hand, the YCLC prefect was a candidate for batch valedictorian. He could easily devote plenty of time and effort to leading an organization because he did not need to worry about trying to get a 75 yearly average in mathematics. He could not understand the difficulties I had been facing.

          “I’m sorry,” I replied. I was sorry not only to him and my fellow officers; I was sorry for the members of the YCLC. But most of all, I was sorry for myself for failing as a student leader.

* * *

          When I began my collegiate studies in the Ateneo, I concentrated completely on my academics. As a Creative Writing major I only had to take one year’s worth of mathematics subjects before I would be free of my Achilles’ heel. Freshman year served as a period for me to adjust and lay the foundations for a steady study habit. Where I had failed in my elementary and high school years I succeeded in my first year of college as I was able to get grades of C for both Math 11 and Math 12.

          The second part of my challenge came in the form of an invitation to join the Student Council, better known as the Sanggunian. Despite the offer being given to me only a day before the deadline for filing of applications, I took the opportunity to run for block representative. I was nice that way, always jumping at the chance to be of service to others. As usual, enough supporters voted for me, and I was able to win the elections.

          Right from the onset of my sophomore year in college, I was bombarded with work. I was assigned to be the deputy of Tracy, head of the promotions team for the SOH Launch (a year-opening party for the students, faculty, and staff of the School of Humanities). She was a year level above me, but we were both on our first year in the Sanggunian.
I saw Tracy as a kind of big sister who could show me the ropes on how to organize and handle meetings, among other skills a competent leader should possess. I admired her courage to volunteer for a leadership role so early in her term, and I was eager to work with her.

          Together, we stayed up late nights on Yahoo Messenger discussing plans on how to best promote the event. Almost every common break we had before, in between, and after our classes we spent buying materials from National Book Store in Katipunan, or printing posters and tarpaulin banners in the University of the Philippines bookstore. Even during Saturdays, we would be preparing standees to be placed on cafeteria tables and Xerox machines around campus.

          Working under her did not only entail that I wait for her orders and follow them. Most times she would include me in the decision-making process. She also let me carry out certain responsibilities on my own. For the poster and tarpaulin designs, I had the task of finding my own designer and working with him on the design. Tracy, who would only approve or disapprove the final output, was very happy with what my designer and I came up with.

          A few times, she would cancel our meetings at the last moment because she needed to study. This came as a surprise for me because I was now capable of managing to study and do Sanggunian work without sacrificing either one. My grades were not soaring to stellar heights, but my balancing act seemed to be working out for me— a quality that would enable me to handle a much larger leadership position of my own the following year.

          The SOH Launch was a huge success, with the venue being filled beyond maximum capacity. Abundant praise was given to Tracy and me for the effective promotions.

* * *

          A few days after, I was walking towards the Sanggunian Room when I noticed a recruitment table for the Ateneo Student Leaders’ Assembly (ASLA) along the way. My initial reaction was to ignore the table. The poster being displayed there stated that they would only accept the top thirty leaders among all the Ateneo Universities in the Philippines. Having no significant accomplishment as a leader at the time, I believed I had no chance of being accepted in the assembly.

          However, right when I was about to pass the table, one of my friends called my name.

          “Verne!” Yvette greeted. “Why don’t you fill up an application form?”

          “I don’t think I’ll make it in,” I replied.

          “That’s nonsense! I taught with you together in Para Kay Kiko, and I am sure that you can make it,” she said. Para Kay Kiko (PKK) was a summer program for incoming public high school students where she and I both taught during high school.

          “Oh, alright. I’ll try,” I replied. I signed up just to appease her.

          She gave me the application form, but I paid no attention to it until I was comfortably seated in the Sanggunian room. It was then that I noticed the form was five pages long and was printed back-to-back. The length of the questionnaire and the questions being asked were intimidating.

          Aside from listing down my past leadership positions, I had to answer how many people I was in charge of, what activities I organized and how many attended, what were the feedback of those who attended, and many more similar queries. Thus far, my only experiences of leadership aside from my present one in the Sanggunian (where I led Mark in creating the designs for our promotional materials) were those in my high school, with the YCLC. This was actually an example of how I failed as a leader, yet I decided to list it down for lack of options.

          Further browsing revealed that there was a recommendation letter I needed to have filled up by a faculty member, school administrator, or fellow student who could attest to my leadership capabilities. From the Sanggunian president to the SOH chairwoman, numerous people came to mind. However, I decided to have Tracy write the letter because she was the person in the student council who knew me the most.

          She gave me a completed letter inserted in a sealed envelope a few days before the deadline. When she left, I was tempted to open and read the letter then transfer it to another envelope afterwards, but she followed the instructions which told her to sign the envelope flap. I could have also faced it against a fluorescent lamp or flashlight, so I could take a peek at what she had written. However, I decided to trust her as she had trusted me as a co-worker and friend.

* * *

          It came as a pleasant surprise when I saw my name among the top sixty or so who made it through the first round of screening. Nevertheless, my smile literally turned upside down as I read through the names on the list. I recognized most of them as being geniuses or already well-established leaders in their respective organizations. They were confident and charismatic, two qualities I did not posses but would be a huge factor during the second round of screening— the interview sessions.

          My legs were already trembling as I walked into the small cubicle where my interview would be held. But when I saw that there was not only one person but five people waiting for me inside, it took all my willpower just to keep from running away.

          “Be seated, Verne (pronounced with a silent final ‘e’). Is that how you pronounce your name?” The guy behind the laptop asked.

          “Yes,” I replied as I sat down in front of him. There was a woman seated beside him. The other three were seated to my right. Two of them were women, and one of them was this huge intimidating guy. I felt like I was in some kind of mini courtroom hearing, with the judge/secretary asking questions and typing away as the investigation progressed.

          “By the way, my name is Retcher. Retch for short. And this is Maja,” he spoke again, pointing to the woman beside him.

          “Don’t mind the other three. Extra lang sila (They're just extras),” he continued as the others laughed. “So, why did you apply for ASLA?” Retch began the investigation.

          “Yvette invited me to join,” I replied. I immediately regretted my answer.

          “I see. So what makes you different from all the other applicants? Why should we choose you?” he asked as his fingers continued TAC-ing keys away.

          This time I took time to think of my response.

          “Take your time,” He, told me. An awkward silence filled the cubicle.

          “I need this leadership assembly. I need to be in ASLA,” I replied. Although I was too nervous to look at anyone but Retch, I could feel everyone’s eyes boring holes into my brain. I wiped my forehead with the sleeve of my shirt. The sweat was starting to sting my eyes.

          “Most of the other applicants are already good leaders. They do not need ASLA. I have failed as a leader in the past, but I believe that ASLA will help me become a better leader. There has to be a reason why people keep inviting me to take up leadership positions, and voting for me.”

          “In your application letter, you talked about your experiences in the YCLC. Why did you choose to include this information?” Maja asked.

          “I was not sure if I should include it because it is an example of when I was a bad leader. But I did to show how I have grown as a person and as a leader, and how I am determined to become even better. I am not perfect. I am not even good yet. But I am willing to learn.”

          The investigation continued for another fifteen minutes. By time it ended, I was so sure the final verdict would be that I was unworthy of being in the assembly.

* * *

          A month later, mostly out of curiosity, I took a peek at the ALSA bulletin board along one of the hallways in the Ateneo. An involuntary grin formed on my face. I was listed among the thirty accepted into ASLA Batch 5. My education as a leader continues.