How do you define a student? Is it by the book he carries, the uniform he wears, his I.D., or his her haggard face caused by endless nights of studying?
We are just like them, except for the first three and don’t even bother with the fourth; we’re not masochists. In fact, we go to school five or even six days a week, albeit late on some days. We listen, argue, and try to absorb what our professors teach us. Some had passed, dropped or failed a subject. But one thing we all have in common is that we’re affected by the fare increase.
Since we’re talking about the new fare matrix, the ubiquity of different increases and how it tortured us, let me share some stories going around the campus regarding those poor UPian commuters (including myself) and the discrimination we experience everyday.
Ever since the word “right” has been invented people started fighting for their right. In our case, the student discount in PUJs is what we have been fiercely fighting for these days. But what we did not expect is the daily struggle against drivers who question the authenticity of our student-ship.
It could be because unlike any college students, we have our idiosyncrasies when it comes to our ideas of what a uniform is. A funky shirt paired with either rugged jeans or shorts, a pair of slippers or Chucks that can endure rough terrain, lush grasses and concrete footpath inside the campus works for me.
I can’t blame drivers who think I’m an out-of-school teen who ought to pay the discounted fare rate. There’s nothing I can do; I always look like this. Unknown to me, others have suffered the same fate.
“Sa sunod kay madala na jud ko ug taripa, form 5 ug I.D. nya ako jud ipakita sa ilang mga nawng (I’ll bring a new fare matrix, form 5 and I.D. then I’ll rub it on their faces),” said one of my classmates, who was irked when a driver doubted her student status.
“Nagbayad ko ug student fare nya ingon sa drayber kay dili daw ko murag estudyante (I paid the student fare then the driver said I don’t look like one),” complained another classmate the following day. In self-defense, she sarcastically told the driver that UP can’t afford uniforms, in fact, her I.D. card looks like those used in public elementary schools, and showed the driver her frayed-in-the-edges I.D.
Others were worse off, having been scolded in public. “Sa sunod ha, ayaw na mo panakay diri. Panlakaw na lang mo (Don’t bother riding PUJs again and just walk to school),” a driver was heard telling the students.
The botrtom line is: both parties are suffering with this crisis, so we just need to help each other to get through this one.
We don’t loathe UP. We love and honor this institution despite its shortcomings. We enjoy our freedom and we don’t care what people think about us and how many drivers see as us out-of-school youth. On the contrary, we enjoy telling these stories while waiting for class to start.
Never mind the consequences, our slippers and Chucks will continue to we a wardrobe staple.
Sun.Star |July 28, 2008|
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