i don’t normally forward emails that i get, nor repost them for everyone else’s reading consumption, but i have to this time.

as i was checking my email for interesting forwarded messages, i came across this email sent by a good friend from UP.

and, i must admit, nostalgia quickly seeped in as i was again reminded of my UP days — as i tiptoed around the responsibilities that were, in an instant, given to me, as i explored the vastness of the world and of ideas, and as i made sure that while i was thrust into an unfamiliar but nonetheless captivating terrain, i still guarded my life principles, my convictions, and my worldview with utmost care.

it’s nostalgic bliss — something that i needed after all that i’ve been through these past few days. i hope you find it as interesting as i did

There are no children here

This week, I went to a meeting at the UP School of Economics and I came
away with renewed belief in the value of the UP experience.

If you speak to anyone from UP – student, professor, alumnus – you will get
no Latin slogans or apologies about how the school teaches values in spite
of its outward materialism. This is not a student population that thinks
about basketball games or memorizes school songs. This is not a school that
chooses one statement to drill into the minds of its students.

This is not, of course, to say that UP does not care about values. It is
that UP, in its own inimitable way, believes that values cannot be
force-fed. The statue of the naked man that guards the entrance to the
campus in Diliman best represents UP’s approach to all education and the
respect for students that is the center of its educational philosophy. All
who come to this university, regardless of origin, bring themselves naked,
carrying nothing but their thirst; like the proverbial empty teacup, making
an offering of self, waiting to be filled.

*Adults*

For many students from private schools, the first lesson that is learned
here is that this is a school for adult education. There are no children
here, and that is why no parents are allowed either at freshman orientation
or during enlistment.

The spirit of the oblation lies not in a mother or a father offering up his
child to the world, it is that of the newly adult, freely offering of his
self.

I remember quite vividly that moment that drove home how different the UP
education continues to be. It was my daughter’s first semester in
university and she had invited a group of her high school friends to our
house. One of them asked a classmate whether she had gotten her parents
permission form approved for that weekend’s outreach activity. From the UP
population around the table came the mock horrified responses of:
“Permission? ” and “Outreach?”

I thought about it and realized that all of these students were, in fact,
legally adults. I thought it interesting that only the UP students appeared
to appreciate this fact.

Even more interesting was the “outreach” comment. I think back to my own
university years and the last three years that my daughter has been in UP
and am certain there is no lack of civic activity. There are medical
missions, house building projects, tree planting, community work and barrio
work and so on. I realize now that the reaction was not to the activity as
much as it was to the use of the word.

One of the most important differences of the UP campus from all the other
campuses my children considered going to is that this campus has no walls.
Many parents fear this. They are afraid their precious children will not be
protected from the ills of society in a campus that is so open to the rest
of the world.

But UP is open to the world in more ways than just not having the physical
walls.

*Community *

Being in UP means much more than being a student. This campus is enmeshed
in a community. This community is made up not only of the transient
population of students who go home each night. It includes the many, many
students who lay their heads on dorm pillows each night, enduring time away
from families in the firm belief that this campus will bring them closer to
their dreams. This community includes the families of faculty and employees
who live on campus. It also includes the many people who work not for the
University, but nevertheless work on campus. This community includes the
lady who remembers the brand of cigarette you smoke and automatically hands
it to you in the morning. It includes the gentleman who remembers you like
pepper on your egg sandwich or the one who knows you will dip your fish
balls into two of his sauces, who patiently waits for you to eat your three
sticks before being paid. It includes the woman who saw all her children
through college by selling peanuts every day on campus.

To a UP student, the daily heartbeat of the school is never far away from
the realities of the country. The word outreach suggests that civic
activity is something outside of the normal, something you do once in a
while. It must be immensely difficult to think of community as a thing
apart when your campus experience brings you face to face with all of the
world’s realities every day.

*Character*

All of this probably explains that unmistakable sense of self that you will
find from students who come from this campus.

Here is a campus where all have the same opportunities to learn. But,
also, here is a campus that will give all the same opportunities to fail.
There are no guidance counselors who will chase after you because you have
been skipping classes. The attitude this university takes is that you must
take the initiative – for learning, for seeking help, for realizing you need
help.

That is not to say that no help exists. But it is help that is not forced
upon you.

This is a university rich in both introspection and conversation. On this
campus, the student is constantly exposed to people – faculty,
administrators, community members, other students – who care deeply and
passionately about the world. The conversations are almost never purely
cerebral. A single graph can provoke comments about government policy and
its effects on people.

As a result, UP is home to a student population that looks at the world and
cares. It is easy to see pictures of protesting students and dismiss it as
radicalism. But there are few campuses in this country where students go
beyond a passing curiosity about what is happening in the world beyond their
own lives. There are even fewer universities where students not only care
but also actually believe they have a responsibility to make a difference –
not in some hazy future – today.

And that, I believe, is what truly forges character. Character is not
molded by speeches or long classes in ethics or theology. Character grows
from within. It begins by being handed the keys to your own self and being
told you are in charge; you now have power over yourself and your own
actions – and with that power, you take on responsibilities.

Each student in this university goes through his own unique voyage of
discovery. On his voyage, as he decides what he cares about, what he will
fight for and what he will sacrifice, he crafts his own personal values.
That is what education is truly about.