My UPCAT experience

Some of my younger friends are taking the UPCAT today. And as I've been praying for them, I tried remembering my own experience, a story that keeps my feet on the ground because to this day, I don't know how I managed to pass it, if not for God's grace.

Seven years ago, on a clear Saturday morning, I woke up earlier than usual, took a hearty breakfast, and quickly made my way to Notre Dame of Marbel University, the testing center in my area. Minutes away from taking the exam that would change my life forever, I prayed for guidance, strength, and wisdom. In my heart of hearts, I wanted to pass. Desperately.

I had three newly-sharpened Mongol pencils, an Staedtler eraser I would eventually lose, and a KCC plastic bag containing chocolates and Chips Ahoy. The exam was too long I didn't have time to eat any of them anyway. I secured my test permits, made sure my bladder was empty—up to now, I get incontinent with exams—and whiled away time with some familiar faces I knew.

"What's your first choice? Your campus?" It was the topic of conversations. I was talking to friends who actually reviewed for the test—and I mean, really went to review centers that cost a lot. Some people I talked to only did self-reviews, and I was able to relate better to them. At that point I felt gravitated to UP, but it was so near yet so far.

We were in an auditorium, with some 150 to 200 people. I was in fourth or fifth row, and my chair creaked whenever I moved. Thankfully the chair's arm desk was stable. And then I started answering the test. It wasn't as hard as the MSA reviewers Manong Ralph handed me down, but it was too long. I hated the Math part because I had to do gross arithmetic calculations. I didn't like the Reading Comprehension part either because the selections were too long. To answer them, I did the reverse: look at the questions first, and then skim the stories. I think it worked.

Months later, just before I headed to the JS Prom, my brother called me up. He was at the Admissions Office in Diliman, looking at my name, and screaming, "You passed! You passed!" I asked about my classmates, too, who daydreamed with me of somehow making it in UP, and they got in as well, and that just made it more exciting.

My father was in my room that day, helping me fix my neck-tie, and when he borrowed my phone to talk to Manong, I saw tears of joy welling up in his eyes.

"I'm happy for you, Lance," Tatay said quietly and slowly, "but I'm just sad because we won't be seeing you here around anymore—at first it was just Ralph, and now, it's you who'll be leaving." My father has always been emotional like that.

In contrast, when my mother heard all about it, she forcefully sported a stoic expression, hiding the bursting excitement within. "So when do we book your plane ticket?"

My little brother, Sean, looked relieved because for the first time in his life, he wouldn't have to put up with his noisy and irritating Manong Lance.