06/08/2026
๐๐๐ฒ๐จ๐ง๐ ๐ญ๐ก๐ ๐๐ฒ๐ฅ๐ข๐ง๐: ๐๐ก๐ฒ ๐๐ ๐๐จ๐ง๐ญ๐ข๐ง๐ฎ๐ ๐ญ๐จ ๐๐๐ซ๐ฏ๐
Column and Lay-out by: Paul
There is a question that quietly follows every student leader and every student journalist who chooses to give more than what is required:
"Why do you keep doing it?"
It is a fair question.
After all, there is no salary waiting at the end of a deadline. No overtime pays for nights spent writing and editing while everyone else sleeps. No bonus for sacrificing weekends to cover campus events. No guarantee that your efforts will even be noticed. Often, your work is read in passing, your name forgotten moments later, and your commitment measured only by the mistakes people are quick to point out.
Yet, despite all these realities, some students continue to serve.
๐๐จ๐ญ ๐๐๐๐๐ฎ๐ฌ๐ ๐ญ๐ก๐๐ฒ ๐ก๐๐ฏ๐ ๐ญ๐จ.
๐๐ฎ๐ญ ๐๐๐๐๐ฎ๐ฌ๐ ๐ญ๐ก๐๐ฒ ๐๐ก๐จ๐จ๐ฌ๐ ๐ญ๐จ.
That choice deserves to be understood.
Student organizations are often seen only through the events they organize, the posts they publish, or the announcements they release. What many people fail to see is everything that happens behind the scenes, the endless meetings, countless revisions, sleepless nights, difficult decisions, disagreements, and the emotional weight of carrying responsibilities while trying to remain a student first.
The public only sees the finished product. They rarely witness the journey. For student journalists, this reality is even more evident.
Every article published represents hours of interviews, fact-checking, editing, proofreading, and rewriting. Every photograph captures not just a moment but the effort of being present, sometimes under the heat of the sun or in the middle of pouring rain. Every issue released is the result of teamwork that demands patience, trust, and sacrifice.
And still, sometimes the loudest responses are not words of encouragement.
Instead, they are criticism.
Some point out grammatical errors without acknowledging the dozens of pages that were written correctly. Some question motives without understanding the process. Others dismiss months of preparation with a single sarcastic comment. They are entitled not only to criticize the work but also to disrespect the people behind it.
Criticism has its place.
No publication should be above accountability. Journalism itself thrives because it welcomes correction, values truth, and continuously seeks improvement. Constructive criticism helps writers grow, editors become more meticulous, and organizations become stronger.
Disrespect, however, is different.
There is a significant difference between saying, "This article could have been improved," and saying something intended to belittle the people who worked hard to produce it.
The first builds.
The second destroys.
Words matter.
Behind every publication is a student carrying academic requirements, family responsibilities, financial concerns, and personal struggles that readers may never know about. They are not machines designed to produce flawless outputs. They are young people learning, improving, and serving at the same time.
Sometimes we forget that.
We demand professionalism while forgetting that student journalists are still students.
We expect excellence while ignoring the fact that excellence is often achieved through experience, not instant perfection.
Perhaps what is most remarkable about student leaders and student journalists is not that they are perfect. It is that they continue despite imperfection. There is a quiet strength in choosing service when recognition is uncertain. There is courage in accepting responsibilities that come with more pressure than privilege. There is honor in staying committed even when appreciation is scarce.
Many people ask what student leaders and student journalists gain from all of this. The answer is complicated.
Yes, there are certificates.
Sometimes there are medals.
Occasionally there are acknowledgments during recognition ceremonies.
But anyone who has genuinely served knows that these are never enough compensation for the hours invested. No certificate can repay lost sleep. No plaque can return missed family gatherings. No applause can fully compensate for the emotional exhaustion that often accompanies leadership and service. If recognition were the goal, many would have already walked away. They stay because something greater calls them.
๐๐๐ฌ๐ฌ๐ข๐จ๐ง. ๐๐จ๐ฆ๐ฆ๐ข๐ญ๐ฆ๐๐ง๐ญ. ๐๐ฎ๐ซ๐ฉ๐จ๐ฌ๐.
They stay because they believe that someone has to tell the stories worth telling. Someone has to preserve the memories of the institution. Someone has to ask difficult questions. Someone has to celebrate achievements that deserve recognition. Someone has to ensure that student voices are heard. Service has never been about convenience. It has always been about choosing responsibility, even when responsibility is difficult. There will always be people who misunderstand genuine service. Some will assume that leadership is about titles rather than accountability. Others will believe that student publications exist merely to produce content instead of fulfilling their responsibility as the voice of the student body. There will always be those who watch from the sidelines, ready to criticize every decision without ever volunteering to become part of the solution.
That is the reality of serving.
But there is another reality that deserves equal attention. There are students who quietly appreciate every article because it tells stories they would otherwise never know. There are parents who smile after seeing their children's achievements featured in campus publications. There are future students who will one day look back at today's publications to understand the history of their institution. Service creates impact that often cannot be measured immediately.
The seeds planted today may only bear fruit years later. That is why those who serve must never allow temporary criticism to erase the lasting value of their work.
To those who doubt student leaders and student journalists because they receive no financial reward, remember this:
Not everything valuable is paid.
Some of the most meaningful contributions in any community have always been rooted in willingness rather than wages. History remembers countless individuals whose greatest legacy was not what they earned but what they gave. Student organizations are built on that same principle.
Every publication issue released.
Every outreach conducted.
Every seminar organized.
Every event successfully accomplished.
Every student assisted.
These are possible because someone decided that serving others was worth their time.
That decision should never be taken for granted.
To fellow student journalists and student leaders who sometimes question whether their efforts still matter, know this:
Your worth is not measured by the number of likes on a post. It is not defined by how loudly critics speak. It is not determined by whether people remember your name after graduation. Your worth is reflected in every life you helped improve, every story you documented with integrity, every truth you pursued with courage, and every responsibility you fulfilled with sincerity.
Service often feels invisible while it is happening.
Its impact becomes visible only in hindsight.
And to those who read the work of student leaders and student journalists, whether you agree with every article, every editorial, or every organizational decision. remember that respect costs nothing.
Offer criticism when necessary. Demand accountability when appropriate. Encourage excellence at all times. But never forget the humanity of the people behind the work.
A community grows stronger not merely because it has talented individuals, but because it chooses to respect those willing to serve it. In the end, perhaps the greatest reward for genuine service is not recognition. It is knowing that when opportunities to make a difference appeared, you answered with action instead of excuses. That when others chose comfort, you chose commitment. When others chose applause, you chose purpose. When others waited for someone else to step forward, you became that someone.
Long after the certificates have faded, the positions have ended, and the names on the masthead have changed, what will remain is the impact left on people whose stories were told, whose achievements were celebrated, and whose voices were heard.
That is the legacy of service.
It is not written in trophies.
It is written in lives touched.
And perhaps that has always been enough.
Ang Budyong
