On the 13th of August, Tuesday, just another morning routine began—but with a twist.
Jiro rode the familiar 800-meter loop jeepney to the New Public Market. He stepped off at the roadside curb of the busy Manila East Road, right where the long-haul jeepneys bound for Morong and Tanay gathered like noisy metal beasts.
He looked at them. The drivers and barkers were shouting destinations. The passengers and students were squeezing in for the long haul.
But this time, he didn't need to ride.
He walked past them, gripping tight to his future... I mean, his brown envelope.
He carried a simple mini sling bag, unusually lighter without the "Hulk" backpack. He headed straight to the nearby tricycle terminal.
He climbed into a tricycle, but he wasn't alone. It was a shared ride, packed with four people. Squeezed in beside him were students wearing crisp white uniforms—KSU Taytay Nursing students.
The Thriving Batch.
The tricycle roared to life.
The road was different. They buzzed past the famous Taytay Tiangge Market, a chaotic blur of garments and shoppers. Then, the scenery shifted. Concrete gave way to trees, with a distant view of slums and the skeletal shapes of large cranes against the sky.
They approached a gate. It looked like the entrance to a private subdivision, but there were no houses here.
It was a subdivision of industry.
Warehouses and factories lined the streets—storage for steel, roofing, glass, and textiles. Tower cranes were scattered nearby, looming over the wide industrial area like dormant giants. It looked less like a school zone and more like a workshop for skyscrapers.
As they navigated the maze of industrial buildings, the scenery shifted again. They passed an empty lot that looked like a confused farm—lines of banana trees, corn plants, and random vegetables struggling to grow amidst tall, wild cogon grass.
The backdrop was a stark contrast: a sprawl of slum houses separated from this industrial zone by a tall concrete wall. But walls are suggestions, not stops. Jiro watched as people and elementary students climbed over the wall using a makeshift wooden ladder, hopping down into the gated area to get to school.
Shortcut culture, Jiro noted. Efficient.
Finally, the tricycle slowed. They arrived at the heart of the "subdivision."
Directly in front of them stood a massive structure… well it is just a giant glass factory, humming with quiet industry.
And right beside it? The school.
The setup was unique. KSU Taytay Campus shared its specific location with a single, two-story elementary school building. They technically shared the campus lot but had different gates. The street was alive with a flock of elementary students in their uniforms, parents hovering nearby, and a line of street food vendors selling fishballs and snacks to the morning crowd.
Jiro stepped out of the tricycle and paid his fare.
He stood before the gate of KSU Taytay Campus.
8:40 AM.
He took a deep breath, clutching his sling bag and the envelope that held his fate.
This is it.
The Second Step.
As Jiro entered the campus gate, he noticed the guard house immediately. It was a tiny, open-air box, equipped with a desk, a logbook, and a pen… is it a decoration? or perhaps reserved only for the VIPs (faculty).
The guard didn't even glance at the logbook for the students streaming in. He just offered a cheerful, "Good morning!"
Jiro stopped. "Good morning, sir." He hesitated. "Uh, where is the Registrar's Office? I will… enroll."
The guard paused, looking him over. "Ay, enrollment is already over."
Jiro cleared his throat. He had his script ready.
"Ah, actually, I was called by an officer staff from here last Friday," Jiro explained, keeping his voice steady. "They asked me to come here to process my portal transfer. I'm a transferee from Morong."
The guard's skeptical expression vanished instantly. "Ahh, okay."
Nice one, Jiro. 'I was called by staff' is the ultimate admin password.
"Second floor," the guard pointed upwards. "Just go up the left stairs, near the boys' restroom. Then the second floor, at the very end, left side. Beside the amphitheater."
"Thank you, sir."
Jiro stepped into the campus proper.
It was... compact.
KSU Taytay was just a single building entity. It was painted in shades of white and blue—uneven highlights that stood out against the grayish backdrop. It stood four stories high, housing about twenty-seven rooms. He noticed two distinct staircases flanking the structure.
Left for UP. Right for DOWN.
Systematic.
Behind the building, he glimpsed a multipurpose covered gym. Not a gym for muscles, but a gym for sports, events, and suffering through PE classes. Beside it lay a wide empty lot filled with grass, gardens, and actual trees.
Tambayan (Hang out) spots. Check.
Less depressing, Jiro noted. It's small, but it breathes.
The front was less polished—an unpaved parking lot where dust ruled, with only a single concrete strip down the middle like a runway. But even there, areca trees and mini gardens tried to soften the rough edges.
It wasn't a factory. It was a school. Just covered in thicker and taller trees in the gate.
As Jiro stepped onto the bare concrete of the ground floor hallway with many real plants on pots sitting on every corner of the corridor, a strange sensation hit him.
It was eerie. It was quiet.
Wait. Isn't it Foundation Week?
Why is it so quiet here compared to Morong? Is the party exclusive to the main campus?
He saw a few staff members walking with purpose, some faculty holding their phones, and a scattering of students—crisp white uniforms for Nursing and Psychology. But the buzzing, chaotic energy he left behind in Morong was missing. Here, it felt like a library where everyone was afraid to sneeze.
He aimed for the Registrar's Office, just a floor ahead.
He navigated past the Faculty Room, the Guidance Office, and then paused briefly in front of a closed door.
CLINIC.Sign: Nurse is Out.
Jiro almost laughed.
Wow. A campus dominated by Nursing students, and the clinic is closed?
Irony at its finest. If Jiro faints here, does he wait for a student to practice on him?
Just right in front of the clinic and the Guidance Office stood the staircase on the left side.
STAIRS: UP ONLY.
He took the first step. The stairs were... easy. The rise was low, the tread was wide. It was a gentle climb compared to the mountain treks of other campuses.
But there was a catch.
Slippery.
Even though the bare concrete floor was completely dry and the sun was shining outside, his runner shoes struggled for grip. It was like walking on polished ice.
Easy to climb, easy to fall. Note to self: Do not run.
He ascended to the second floor without breaking a sweat.
To his front and left, the two separate doors of the Amphitheater stood wide open. Inside, rows of tiered seats were filled with Nursing students in their pristine white uniforms, chatting quietly even though no professor was present.
The Thriving Batch in their natural habitat.
Jiro walked past them, keeping his head up, until the glass counter of the Registrar's Office finally loomed over him, situated right beside the windows of the Amphitheater.
Target acquired.
Jiro approached the counter. The registrar wasn't what he expected.
He was a single staff member—a millennial-looking man, slightly above average build, wearing glasses and a patterned jacket that screamed 'fashion over function.' His hair was styled with highlighted bleached streaks.
"Good morning, sir," Jiro greeted.
The registrar looked up. "Yes?"
Jiro explained his request—the transfer, the portal, the enrollment. But as usual, his voice was stuck on 'low volume' mode. Combined with the notorious soundproofing of registrar counters (glass walls are the enemy of introverts), the words barely made it through.
The registrar leaned in, frowning. "Ha? What is it?"
Jiro tried again, louder. "Request for—"
The registrar shook his head and waved a hand. "Just come inside."
Jiro hurried to the side door and entered the office.
It was compact—barely half the size of a typical classroom. The space was partitioned, sharing with the Cashier's Office next door. It was cramped, filled with shelves and boxes, but it was functional enough to store the lives of thousands of students on paper.
The registrar turned to him. "Okay, let me see the envelope."
Jiro handed it over. The registrar opened it, sifted through the documents, and paused.
"Wait," he said, pulling out the enrollment slip. "This is wrong."
He pointed to the header.
KSU Morong CampusBachelor of Industrial Technology Major in Contruction Technology
"Ay," Jiro realized. "I forgot to change it."
He had forgotten that a new campus and a new course meant a new slip. Details, Jiro. Details.
"You need to print the new one," the registrar said, handing the slip back. "Open your student portal. Get the new enrollment slip. Print it at the COE Dean's Office."
He pointed vaguely towards a direction. "Just there."
Jiro nodded, putting on his best 'I understand completely' face.
"Okay, sir. Thank you."
I have absolutely no idea where that is.
Jiro exited the office and stood in the hallway. Dean's Office. Right. Where?
He decided to trust his instincts. Instincts say... explore.
He went back downstairs to the ground floor using the UP ONLY staircase.
Jiro the Explorer… and the Rule Breaker.
He scanned the layout of the first floor, walking from the extreme left to the right on the bare concrete floor.
Left Wing:
Boy's Restroom.GAD/OPA Office.HRM Office.The Campus Clinic (still closed, still ironic).Guidance Office.Faculty Room.An open hallway leading to the Gym at the back.
Right Wing:
Director's Office (complete with a scan verification machine and logbooks on the window).Accreditation Room.Science Laboratory.
Right in front of the Science Lab was the other staircase.
STAIRS: DOWN ONLY.
He watched as a stream of students, staff, and even a teacher walked up the stairs without a care in the world.
Okay. So the sign is a suggestion… and for display.
He continued his scan. Beside the stairs was the NSTP Office. And at the extreme right end, the Girl's Restroom.
No Dean's Office here.
Wrong floor.
He sighed and looked at the "DOWN ONLY" stairs.
If everyone else is doing it...
Jiro looked left. Jiro looked right.
Rule breaker mode 2: Re-activated.
He started climbing the DOWN stairs.
Halfway up, he paused to catch his breath (and check for guards). On the landing, there was a bulletin board.
Future Educators' Community (FEC)
It was covered in pictures of smiling organization officers and their adviser. They looked happy. They looked motivated.
Good for them, Jiro thought.
As he continued the trek, his eyes grazed over framed blueprints hanging on the wall. They depicted the "Future Plans" of the campus—extensions, a new building beside the gym garden area. They looked grand and modern.
Estimated Date of Completion: Unknown.
Probably when I'm already graduated, he mused, not stopping to look closely.
He reached the second floor again.
This time, he looked closer at the signs.
CON Dean's Office. (College of Nursing). CBA and Utility Office. (Business Ad/Uniforms/IDs).
And there, sandwiched to the left of the Nursing office:
COE Dean's Office.
Found it.
He walked to the door and pushed it open.
Another blast of cold air slapped him in the face.
Heaven part two.
As he opened the door, he saw a woman with glasses sitting at a desk immediately to his right. She was focused on her computer screen, typing away.
The office was compact—about the same size as the Registrar's Office he had just left. Jiro scanned the room. It was surprisingly organized. A filing cabinet stood nearby with four distinct drawers labeled: BSED English, BEED, and BTLED ICT.
Wow. Organized.
Trophies and other plaques cluttered the tops of the cabinets and cupboards, evidence of past glories. The room was divided by a glass panel and a glass door, creating a private sanctum for the Dean at the back.
Privacy. Nice.
A lone COE student was sitting on a chair, leaning casually against the glass divider, waiting for something.
Jiro approached the woman at the welcome desk.
"Good morning, Miss," he said. "Can I have this printed?"
She looked up, adjusting her glasses. "Yes. Just send the file to our Facebook account so I can print it."
Jiro nodded. He pulled out his phone, toggled his data on, and found the account. He sent the new assessment form he had just generated from the portal.
"Already sent…," he said.
The printer whirred to life. Whirrr-chk-chk.
Then, suddenly, a knock echoed on the door.
A middle-aged man with a heavy build entered, greeting the room with a booming voice. Jiro stared at him. He didn't realize it then—clueless as he was—but this was the officer staff he was supposed to look for, the very same man who had called his mom last Friday.
The man greeted the woman at the desk while she organized Jiro's printed form. Then, he peeked into the glass-partitioned office at the back—the Dean's territory.
He gestured toward Jiro. "Good morning, Dean, this is the new transferee COE student, the one I was talking about."
Jiro followed his gaze. Inside the glass room sat the Dean. She was an older woman, perhaps in her seventies, wearing glasses. But she didn't look frail; she had a certain glow, a vibrance, even while focused intently on her computer screen.
She looked up, saw Jiro, and simply nodded with a small, faint smile.
Jiro blinked.
She seems... calm. Kind.
The big man nodded, satisfied with the acknowledgement, and exited the office.
A few seconds later, the woman at the desk handed him a crisp, colored A4 sheet.
"Ten pesos," she said.
Jiro handed over the coin. "Thank you!"
He rushed out of the office, clutching the document. He turned right, heading back toward the side with the UP ONLY staircase.
He navigated the hallway, passing the Nursing Skills Laboratory—a room filled with hospital beds and mannequins—and the massive Nursing Students' Society (NSS) bulletin board covered in announcements. He breezed past the Amphitheater again and finally reached the Registrar's Office.
He entered once again.
Round two.
He approached the counter and presented the new enrollment assessment form. It was all there: the university name, his name, his course (BEEd), and his student number (KSUM2024-06519).
The registrar took it and checked the details. He paused, his finger hovering over the top of the page.
"Oh," the registrar muttered. "Why is your student number still from Morong?"
Jiro's heart skipped a beat. Script loaded.
"Ah, because I'm a transferee," Jiro explained smoothly. "The system just carried it over... or maybe they forgot it…"
The registrar nodded slowly, accepting the logic. He signed the form with a flourish.
Then, he looked up and asked the final question.
"Why were you transferred?"
Jiro felt a spike of nervousness, but on the outside, he stayed chill. Ice cold.
"I was advised to shift courses," he said carefully. "And since I live in Taytay, it was better to move here."
Technically true. Morally... gray.
The registrar handed the signed form back. "Okay. You're officially enrolled."
Jiro took the paper.
Really, Jiro?
Well, good luck with BEEd.
You forgot to ask to transfer into BSED English.
But... looking at that signed form... that is impossible now.
10:21 AM.
The process was done.
Jiro walked out of the office and headed for the stairs. He took the UP ONLY staircase going down.
Rules? What rules?
As he stepped down to the first floor, he navigated the hallway like a ship dodging icebergs—except the icebergs were Nursing students in pristine white uniforms, moving with clinical purpose.
Through the sea of white, he spotted a splash of color.
Two students wearing uneven shades of blue uniforms were chatting happily near the wall. They looked relaxed. Casual.
COE students.
My... tribe?
He passed them and found a spot to lean on the corridor wall, just right in front of the Director's Office window. He needed a moment to organize his envelope before braving the commute again.
He looked around. The hallway wasn't just bare concrete; it was alive. Real green plants in pots lined the corridor walls. Outside, in the garden area just beyond the low wall, he saw plant boxes designed with recycled plastic bottles.
Eco-friendly. Creative. Not bad.
It was a far cry from the industrial gray of the other campus.
He pulled out his phone and toggled his data on.
Ping.
A notification slid onto his screen.
KSU RegistrarEnrollment Verified.
He checked the timestamp: 10:33 AM.
Jiro stared at it. His phone was on silent mode—because he hates distractions and is an eternal energy saver—so he hadn't heard it arrive.
Wow.
That was fast.
In Morong, he had waited nine hours for a confirmation email. Here? It took twelve minutes.
Efficiency. I like this server.
He turned off his data immediately. Save battery. Save load.
He would check the full details later at home. He didn't want to ruin the mood by staring at the letters "BEEd" again right now.
Tomorrow. August 14. Wednesday.
That's when the real game starts.
He shoved his phone back into his sling bag, grabbed his brown envelope tight, and pushed off the wall.
He rushed toward the gate, stepping out of the campus and into the heat of the industrial subdivision.
Good luck, Jiro.
You're officially a Future Educator from now on.
END OF THE FRIGHTENED EDUCATOR