Reflections of a ‘pandemic batch’ honors graduate
It was around 9 p.m. one night in January 2020 when my roommate and I hastily packed our valuables to leave our dorm on Katipunan Avenue. We wore our face masks before stepping outside to shield ourselves from the toxic gases emitted by Taal’s eruption. As we boarded the cab, we watched as snow-like ash fell from the sky.
Classes were suspended due to the harmful ashfall that reached many areas, including Metro Manila. Although I deeply empathized with those directly affected by the disaster, I found myself relieved that the suspension allowed me to go home and be with my family. Little did I know that this brief respite would evolve into a much longer and complex ordeal.
I am not religious, but the simultaneous eruption of a volcano and the spread of a mysterious disease across the globe felt almost biblical. Yet, life did not stop. Students had to adapt to a “new normal,” which meant enduring community quarantines and transitioning to remote learning.
As the country grappled with COVID-19, we faced a prolonged period of uncertainty, marked by anxiety, isolation and adjustments none of us had anticipated.
‘Pass’ semester
At the University of the Philippines (UP), this meant implementing a “pass” semester where the faculty may opt to give a P (pass) grade for those whose status is passing or are satisfactorily complying with course requirements, with the permission of the department, or a numeric grade. According to the UP System Policy on the second semester of A.Y. 2019-2020 in the time of COVID-19, “no student shall be given a grade of 4.0, 5.0 or INC for courses in the second semester A.Y. 2019-2020.
Thus, students who incurred unexcused absences in 20 percent of the hours of recitation, lecture, laboratory or any other scheduled work prior to suspension will be given a DRP (drop) mark for the course.”
As the pandemic continued, UP shifted to remote learning, introducing online tools and flexible learning options. Grading policies were adjusted to ease the academic burden, and asynchronous classes were implemented to accommodate the diverse circumstances of students across the country. These changes were a lifeline for many of us, offering a semblance of stability in an otherwise chaotic time.
It was a period of adjustment for students and professors alike. Professors were required to craft study guides to help us navigate remote learning. At the UP College of Mass Communication, our professors ensured that we kept up with our studies and gained practical skills in the field. This came in the form of recorded lectures, Zoom consultations and guidance in online legwork for investigative stories, documentaries and internships, among others.
I was fortunate to have a stable internet connection and the necessary devices for online learning, but the transition was still challenging.
Before the pandemic, I felt confident in my ability to manage my time, balancing academics with student organizations, our college publication and my personal life. But when the lockdown began, I switched to survival mode. My focus was split between online classes and family responsibilities, blurring the boundaries between school and home life. I coped with it by being more productive—by keeping busy with academics, organizational and volunteer work, and online internships.
Pressure to excel
The pandemic took a significant chunk out of my college experience. To compensate, I tried to learn as much as I could, even under the looming shadow of the virus. I tackled tasks based on urgency. My routine shifted to working on academics at night and sleeping during the day as it was the only way I could focus in our house, where I live with extended family. Other techniques I resorted to included organizing my online storage well and making folders for each course, practicing active learning, and staying connected with my classmates and friends.
Despite my efforts, reality crept up. Fewer classmates attended scheduled synchronous classes, my household experienced symptoms of the virus, and the news relentlessly reported rising cases and fatalities.
I gritted my teeth until I got used to the set-up because education meant a lot to me. Studying in UP, a university funded by the people, was a privilege I didn’t take lightly. The pressure to excel came from a mix of factors: being from a middle-class household that sees education as a key to a better future, the need to meet grade requirements for my scholarships, and a desire to make my parents proud, even though they never explicitly pressured me (probably an unspoken eldest daughter thing, iykyk).
It all paid off when I graduated magna cum laude with a degree in Journalism. I was among the graduates of what some key opinion leaders referred to as “pandemic batches.”
Amid COVID-19, students struggled not only to survive the then-mysterious, deadly disease, but also to stay afloat academically. Emerging from this crisis alive was a feat in itself, and receiving a Latin honor was just icing on the cake—another reason to celebrate with my family and friends, as it is their achievement as much as it is mine.
Testament to ability
While I understand the criticisms regarding a “dramatic” increase in the number of graduates with honors, I can’t help but take great pride in our batch. Critics argue that this increase was due to the implementation of academic ease and points to an erosion of standards or a lowering of the quality of education. However, it’s essential to consider the context in which these honors were earned.
The pandemic created an environment where traditional academic methods were no longer feasible. The shift to remote learning, the extensive disruption of daily life, and the emotional toll of the crisis warranted a more adaptable and compassionate approach to education. The adjustments made by universities, including UP, were not about lowering standards but recognizing the diverse challenges students encountered, ranging from unstable internet connections and financial hardships to mental health struggles and even illness within families.
Earning honors in this context is not a reflection of diminished academic rigor, but a testament to our ability to adapt and persevere. Moreover, I know of classmates and batchmates who did not graduate with us, opting to drop out or file for a leave of absence for their and their families’ well-being. Their stories of resilience and sacrifice are equally worth celebrating, honors or not.
At the end of the day, the value of a UP education lies in the honor and excellence it fosters, which is far more significant than any accolade. The “pandemic batches” survived COVID and UP. While there is still so much to learn outside the university, it is up to us to apply what we’ve learned, contribute ethically to our respective fields and the community, and uphold the values instilled by our UP education—values rooted in serving the people.
