A DISTINCT PATTERN emerges among the new generation of Bedans, a certain nonchalance, a ‘too cool for tradition’ mindset that constantly craves something new, something that sets them apart from the past. In this pursuit of reinvention, history is often cast aside, deemed irrelevant. And now, more than ever, we see it unfold again as a question lingers in the halls of San Beda: “Why should we care about Integration Rites?”
Some things—no, most things—simply aren’t meant to be understood by those who haven’t walked the same halls, lived the same moments, or felt the same pride that one encounters in the Bedan community.
A group of lions is called a pride, and pride is precisely what defines the Lion’s Den. More than just an institution, San Beda is a shared experience, a bond, a sense of belonging that extends beyond the campus gates.
There is a secret language spoken only by those who have survived the same hell and thrived in the same chaos. One may consider these as timestamps of shared suffering, triumphs, and absurdity, seeming like unwritten footnotes of a Bedan life well-lived.
“We are both the heirs of the Bedan tradition and the architects of its future.”
Think about it. The absolute terror of a course that traumatized an entire class? Immortalized in a single sarcastic phrase. That one professor whose quirks became campus folklore? Recognized by a mere smirk. The sheer athleticism required to sprint up the stairs when the elevators are packed and painfully slow? A universally understood struggle.
For years, we were robbed of what every batch before us had. The tradition we call the Integration Rites. As a freshman, I knew about it from my sister, a proud Bedan herself. I had anticipated it, but the pandemic took it away, making my initiation into the Bedan community lonelier than I had expected.
Now, Integration is back. At a glance, it may seem merely ceremonial. But I know, had I experienced that kind of welcome, my freshman year would have been different. Better. Fuller.
And here we are, not just witnessing the return of Integration, but redefining it. We are both the heirs of the Bedan tradition and the architects of its future. The inside jokes we create now? Future generations will try to understand, but they never truly will. By then, we will have already moved on, laughing among ourselves, bound by something intangible, something sacred.
Years from now, someone will turn to you and say, “Naalala mo nung Integ natin?” And no matter where we are in life, we’ll grin, because we know we share something only Bedans truly understand.
Even though I’m only in my third year, I think I am starting to realize that being a true Bedan isn’t just about walking the same halls. It’s about the life we share as we conquer the same challenges together. It’s in the pride that swells with every NCAA victory, every exam top-notcher, every flash of red and white that calls to mind the sacred walls of the Lion’s Den.
Trust me. The day will come when you hear it. Those echoes of a familiar roar calling out to you. In that moment, you’ll feel it. A reminder, deep and undeniable, that you are part of something greater, something timeless. And as it reverberates through you, it will declare for all the world to know: “Walang duda, tunay kang Bedista!”
email me at thebedan_managingeditor@sanbeda.edu.ph