An ode to our comfort zone

The classroom has been my oyster since I began my journey in the teaching profession roughly four years ago. It is my comfort zone, so to speak.

There, I taught English, applying from theory to practice what I learned in my preservice training and speciality in my ongoing professional development journey at the University of the Philippines. There is another classroom, which I consider a playground—a happy place where my passion for mentorship is as fiery as a burning torch: campus journalism. It is a place of control and stability. Here, I can say I can do things competently with my eyes closed, producing champions and honing future writers, journalists, leaders, thinkers, action-oriented doers, and trailblazers.

In 2025, I had to leave both.

By “leaving,” I mean not total abandonment but putting it on the sidelines to make way for other opportunities—a shift in responsibility and priority. Before, I only thought of how I could be the best teacher for my learners, crafting lessons and implementing classroom strategies apt for the contemporary context and nature of learners. I did not mind how tiring it was because I enjoyed it.

The pages, as it inevitably should, have turned. Now, I find myself working fingers to the bone, keeping and doing what is best for an entire academic community as a novice, inexperienced academic leader. One thing is for sure: I am not here to prove my worth and style of leadership to anyone. I am here to rise to the occasion and to help grow a ministry I was called to be a minister of.

And so, I had to leave my comfort zone. I had to step out of it. In 2025, I came full circle with additional and seemingly unfamiliar zones described in a model advanced by Danish educator and psychologist Tom Senninger: the “learning” and “panic” zones.

The tectonic shift in responsibility from being a full-time classroom teacher and campus paper adviser to being an executive assistant to the principal and, most recently, an academic leader, was a whirlwind of an experience. Suddenly, I am a beginner again—back at square one.

In these new zones, there were “learning” moments coupled with “panic” episodes when I could not seem to learn or grasp the perplexity and nuisances—both written and unwritten—of the new role I now carry. It made me ask a lot of questions, with some left hanging with no answers and just generating more questions. I even reached the point of questioning my own competence. It made me grapple with the trial-and-error way of doing this or that because the truth of the matter is that this is a necessary and somewhat painful phase. I won’t say this phase is done. In fact, I am sure, it will go on for the next couple of years, to 2026 and beyond.

The funny thing is that after all the panicking and moments of uncertainty, things eventually fall into place. That program or activity you did not know how to go about implementing turned out just fine. Sure, there were times we fell short or had lapses in judgment, but one way or the other, we managed to get through it. There is beauty and peace in just letting things unfold as they should.

Perhaps one perennial lesson I learned in 2025 is this: allow yourself to begin again, let things be, and just start. Funny how basic this lesson is, but when we are overwhelmed with fear and anxiety during our hard learning and panic moments, we sometimes fail to remind ourselves of this beautiful wisdom.

During mentoring and debriefing sessions, I often tell this to student-journalists who are not convinced of their capacity for greatness: you just have to start writing it. Just do it, write it, and everything else follows.

There will be more uncertainty this 2026, but what is certain is that there will be more “learning” and “panic” moments as we navigate the safe bubble—or, if we are to relate it to the case of Bilbo Baggins, his peaceful, cozy hobbit hole—beyond our erstwhile love: our comfort zones.

Comfort zones are not necessarily evil. It’s a home we can always return to. It is an emotional anchor of who we were and who we become. But it should not limit our potential.

May our former selves in that zone be proud of what we have so far achieved without the comfort of what is familiar, common, and routinary, but with the strength and courage we have mustered and discovered through new beginnings, new roles, new destinations, and new horizons.

Cheers to new beginnings. Cheers to discoveries and adventures. Cheers to 2026!

—————-

Orlando M. Gamilla Jr. , 26, is a novice school leader based in Iloilo City.