WHEN A BIG transition in one’s life is on the horizon, one may feel that closure is the most appropriate response to change. It seems that no one wants to leave doors open and questions unanswered. 

I first began my journey in The Bedan back in 2020. With not much room to maneuver during a once-in-a-generation pandemic, I stayed with San Beda, already my home for two years running, to pursue a degree in political science, not knowing what the next four years would hold for me. 

“Now, as I leave what I consider to be the best damn job in the whole of San Beda, I tell you, my reader, that this is not goodbye.”

Entering the College of Arts and Sciences (CAS) was not much of an easy feat. I had initially thought that the staying in the same institution would afford me a sense of belonging and familiarity—feelings of reassurance and comfort I sought during the pandemic—instead of the unease and pressure that changing schools would inevitably give. But alas, not all our expectations turn out the way we’d hope. 

It was all unfamiliar terrain: the blockmates, the professors, the subjects. Everything felt different. The set-up was vastly different too. As a social person, I was happy to have enjoyed a good support system in high school. Not anymore, I guess. 

Some people thrived in the isolation. Some didn’t. I was a mixed bag. I did well in some areas, poorly in others. I made progress in certain quarters, not so much elsewhere. It was, by all means, the quintessential college experience. 

But amid the heaping number of changes in my life came a big bright spot. Joining student publications were a natural part of my scholastic journey. Never was it a question for me which of the dozens of student-led organizations would be the perfect fit for me. The Bedan was the one. In fact, the only one. 

Initially, becoming a campus journalist in college was a mere fact of life—much ado about nothing, I thought. And this was reaffirmed by the fact that distance-learning really did distance the students from the school. Nothing of note was happening. As the lockdowns froze our everyday lives, it did so too to our college life. 

But as the five stages of grief would tell us, acceptance would always come in the end. I learned to adjust. I’d never let myself be pulled down by any forces, I thought. So by my sophomore year, I was elevated as Associate Editor, as Editor-in-Chief by my third, and again during my senior year. All three years of dedication, hard work, and a mindset of service to the Bedan community. 

Looking back at all we’ve come to achieve in the four volumes I’ve been with The Bedan, I can definitely say that I am proud of the immense changes that the publication has undergone. As a staunch proponent of digitalization and of the warm embrace towards new technologies, I did all that I can to make sure that The Bedan becomes a creature of the digital age, pulled towards innovation and the promise of a new brand of multimedia journalism. 

During my tenure, we also kept our doors open to Bedans of all creeds and backgrounds, keeping in mind that above all else, this publication is published by the students of the CAS, and we shall always serve their interests at all times. Timely and impactful stories on the personalities that make up the beating heart of the College and the University were a core part of this mission to serve. For that I am thankful for their participation and support for all that we do. 

Now, as I leave what I consider to be the best damn job in the whole of San Beda, I tell you, my reader, that this is not goodbye. I never was fond of them anyway. Rather, consider this as a brief interlude to the next chapter, one that I hope I could still take you with me. Because, dear reader, I always believe that the next big story is still out there, calling for us and yearning our discovery of it. 

And so, to quote the late U.S. Senator Ted Kennedy: “For all those whose cares have been our concern, the work goes on, the cause endures, the hope still lives, and the dream shall never die.”