Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.” —William Wordsworth
When we visited Masbate in 2024, which I still consider close to the present, my team and I hoped to bring the power of journalistic words to the other sister schools as part of our mission to light the flame of literature in Cebu Roosevelt. The odds were with us this year, and glory to the Lord, we finished all four schools and helped them build their own journalism identity in their respective campuses. The journey of arriving and leaving was challenging, but in between were changes in perspective, memories, and growth that helped me and my team navigate the world of journalism and become warriors of literature until our very late years in college.
Today, I remember so many things—from traveling to arriving, and from speaking in front of young journalists to leaving them with success and satisfaction. It is just eight days left before another year flips through the pages of our palm, and before I glimpse another year in my life, I would love to recap my year through this blog. It might be redundant to say these experiences again as I have already shared them with you every time I went home from the seminars, but things are not always said in one sitting. In this way, I can share the hidden parts of my journalism journey and at least show the world I have embedded in my soul.
MASBATE – August 16–17, 2025
What started as a joke in our office—to conduct seminars even as student journalists—came to realization when two schools, Western Masbate Roosevelt and Southern Roosevelt College, invited us for a seminar and workshop. They needed help from our team to finally develop their publication papers as required by CHED. At the time we received the invitation, I could not contain my excitement and passionately studied everything for Literary Writing and Science Writing as my topics as a speaker.
The whole journey of my Masbate seminar was written in another blog, and if you want to read that story, I would love to leave it to you.
One thing I can say about this first seminar experience is that Masbate was a glory. It shaped my team and me in understanding the true purpose of a student journalist and truth-seeker. It brought us new perspectives on facts that surround the academe and national areas, and it filled our articles not only with relevance but also with intention and growth.
The people of Masbate—the students and faculty specifically, members of the Masbatenos—who are often labeled as dangerous people in relation to the NPA (New People’s Army), made the island a place I wish to visit again. They are discriminated against because of the NPA issue, but one thing I learned during our stay was that what people outside try to spread is a lie within the island. The people of Masbate were humble and welcoming. I ever encountered young ones with such deep respect for visitors. Children you stumble upon in the streets would wave to you, some even showing respect through gestures like pagmamano. Elders, for instance when we were in the market in Cawayan, would tell narratives completely different from what outsiders say—but completely true. People there do not lie. Instead, they value honesty and integrity—things only a righteous and non-judgmental person can see.
During the seminar, the students were passionate about their craft, and it humbled me. They were creative and wrote with purpose, guided by their teachers. I interviewed one teacher and asked why they decided to bring journalism there aside from compliance. The teacher said, “The kids wanted to change the image of the island and tell the truth through their words.” With intention and heart, writing became their step toward change and proof. The crazy thing is, the younger ones were the ones who wanted it most.
I also encountered teenagers who were working during their vacant days—not forced nor obligated. Some sold goods outside the school, while others worked under scholarship programs. They did not complain; instead, they learned to love their roles in the island. The good thing is, they were never obligated—they chose it freely.
As much as I want to say more about Masbate, the attached article gives a better narration, and I do not want to be redundant. But for the sake of sharing the second-best part of Masbate, I will say this: their crabs and shrimps were huge, savory, and cheap. So be envious. Lol.
Upper Pandan, Bogo City – July 16, 2025
This school is the nearest sister school of College Roosevelt. There were no ships or airplanes involved—just a tricycle ride. The whole story was written in this blog
From Literary Writing in Masbate, I shifted to Photojournalism for this seminar since I had started replacing our former photojournalist after he graduated. I had no choice but to take over the position. Luckily, I received training and guidance from photojournalists who were relatives of our publication.
The best thing that happened during this seminar was that one of the official speakers was my high school adviser, Mr. Ron Jacob, a writer and the author of Isang Daang Tula. The book is dedicated to a girlfriend who left him and is inspired by the movie Isang Daang Tula Para Kay Stella, as well as by depression, which gave life to the collection.
Mr. Jacob was the first person who believed in my literary writing skills. During high school, he let me write poems the entire year and compiled them for competitions that never reached our district. Yet instead of being dismayed, I was still happy because I knew I had already won—someone believed in me. Without his support, I would never have grown to believe in myself.
When we met again in this seminar, I was already grown. I no longer needed his guidance, but I still could not beat him in prose. He remains the best in the north, just like in the old days. Listening to his discussion brought nostalgia from the years we shared in the classroom.
Fact: the publication I am part of now was also Mr. Ron’s publication during his college years. He served as editor-in-chief for four years and later became its adviser for another four years. It feels like his son has stepped onto the same stone.
The students in this school were memorable. Among all the campuses we visited, they were the most conversational during lunch and snacks. Their words gave me a shift in perspective, especially regarding power imbalance and power tripping from school authorities. We taught them how to exercise their writing and the laws that protect them. We were paid well for the seminar, but little did the administrators know—we taught the students things they would not expect.
Journalism in school does not always mean freedom. There are stories repressed to protect institutional image. But we taught them this: truth will help you when you let it prevail.
Tabogon Roosevelt – August 16–17, 2025
This was the last campus we visited. Coincidentally, it happened on the same dates as our first seminar in Masbate.
The students here were serious and less interactive, but the spirit of journalism was evident in their articles during the workshops. I worked with students in sports writing and literary writing. This time, I also entered the world of sports journalism—one of the noblest fields in writing. I started writing sports articles when I began my photojournalism journey. Experience, truly, is the best teacher. It opens doors once you unlock even a small part of its lessons.
The Magnifier is the name of their embryonic publication. It is not fully formed yet, but it is becoming real. This seminar was the most frustrating for me. I was both speaker and emcee for two days—something I am not naturally good at due to my lack of “vibrant” energy. Still, I survived. Read the whole story here and here
Despite the frustration, this seminar was the most authentic. I shared my real experiences, mistakes, and lessons. I chose authenticity over perfection, and I believe they learned more because of it.
One memorable moment was reciting the poem Two-Headed Calf and allowing everyone to recite their favorite poems as well, including the speakers. Sharing literature that way revealed writing styles, preferences, and hearts.
By day, we taught. By night, we rested together—reviewing, editing, laughing, singing karaoke. We left the school tired but fulfilled. Leaving was the hardest part, but knowing they have grown gives me peace.
Maybe this year did not give me everything I asked for, but it gave me places, people, and words that stayed. And sometimes, that is already more than enough to carry into the next page. Oh the year has been so long but has been so kind to me. I am excited for the new experiences next year and I hope to have many and meet new people. May this year to come be merciful, fortunate, and growing for me and for everyone around me.
