August 19 (Monday)
The wait was finally over. The ambient noise in Room 406 dropped to absolute zero as the official Section Adviser prepared to initiate the afternoon session.
The class finally began at exactly 2:15 PM.
Mr. Jimmy Brackin stood comfortably at the front of the room. He didn't have that strict, terrifying aura that most college professors tried to project on the first day. Instead, he radiated a calm, effortless competence.
He looked at the thirty-five students sitting before him and offered a friendly smile.
"All right, uhmm, I am your BEEd 1-A adviser and your instructor in our subject, Readings in Philippine History," he introduced himself smoothly. Then, he paused, a light chuckle escaping him as he realized the redundancy. "Ay, you all already know that hehehe."
While he was talking, his hands were busy performing a highly sophisticated technical ritual. He was unfolding the magnetic stand of his sleek tablet, propping it up on the teacher's table, and tapping the screen with precision. It looked like a modern mage setting up his digital spellbook before casting a high-level lecture.
With his digital workstation prepared, Mr. Brackin looked up, shifting into an administrative phase. He needed to verify the battlefield parameters.
"So, your schedule with me is 2:30 PM up to 4:00 PM," he noted, looking around the room. "That is one hour and thirty minutes every Monday and Wednesday. Umm, ah do you still have any subjects before me?"
The command squad immediately stepped up to report. President Hidy and VP Princess, sitting in their respective spots, answered in perfect unison.
"None po, sir," they replied clearly. "You are our first subject po eh."
Mr. Brackin nodded slowly, absorbing the intel. "Ahh okay. How about... do you still have classes after me?"
The two officers answered again, delivering the unfortunate truth of their updated portal schedule.
"There are po, two of them," Hidy explained. "But both of them have 'TBA' written on the schedule eh."
Upon hearing the acronym "TBA," Mr. Brackin stopped. A knowing smirk formed on his face. The Elite Educator was about to drop some veteran academic wisdom on his fresh, uninitiated students. He suddenly released a strategic idea that shattered the established rules of the system.
"Ayy, is that so," Mr. Brackin laughed lightly. "If it is still TBA, do not enter those subjects yet ah. It is really like this here eh, that will still take a long time to get professors hehehe."
A collective wave of relief washed over the room. Permission to skip the ghost subjects? Granted. But the Adviser wasn't done. He was about to propose a massive schedule buff.
"Anyway," Mr. Brackin continued, crossing his arms casually. "Is it okay with you guys if we just meet once a week ah? Since those two subjects are still TBA anyway, what we will do is, we will only meet for one day, but we will still make it 3 units. So, we will do 2:00 PM to 5:00 PM, is that okay with you guys? So that your commute fare won't be wasted."
In the second row, near the doorway, Jiro's internal strategist immediately went into overdrive.
Ohhh, that's smart! Jiro's eyes widened slightly in pure admiration. Compressing a split schedule into a single, three-hour block once a week... ha, more free days! It's the ultimate stamina and financial preservation strategy. This guy is a tactical genius.
He wasn't the only one who realized the massive benefit. The entire class erupted into eager nods and synchronized murmurs of agreement.
"Yes po, sir!"
"Okay, so what day do you prefer ah?" Mr. Brackin asked, giving them the power of choice. "Monday or Wednesday?"
The class buzzed for a few seconds before the consensus emerged loudly.
"Monday po, sir!" the majority shouted, eager to get the heavy lifting out of the way at the very start of the week.
Mr. Brackin acknowledged the unanimous vote with a satisfied smile.
"Ahh, okay okay, Monday it is," he finalized the pact. "But we will do that by next month pa ah. Right after your Prelim exams in the second week of September."
Jiro blinked. Wait, next month?
"For now, we will still stick to the twice-a-week schedule," Mr. Brackin explained, adjusting his glasses. "Because I still need to catch up on our lessons eh. It's just for temporary, so that when you finally get a prof for those TBA subjects, we will return to the original schedule on the portal ah."
Ah. The plot twist. The schedule buff was real, but there was a massive cooldown timer attached to it. They still had to survive the standard routine until September.
With the schedule successfully optimized for the future, Mr. Brackin shifted gears.
"Alright, before we proceed, who is the President here? And the rest of the officers?" he asked, scanning the crowd.
Hidy immediately raised her hand, followed by Princess, Lindsey, Jesper, and the rest of the elected council. Mr. Brackin nodded at each of them, carefully noting their faces and names so he could easily recognize the guild leaders he would need to talk to for future deployments.
Once the chain of command was established, the standard introductory session began. It was the usual routine of names, locations, and brief backgrounds, flowing smoothly across the room under Mr. Brackin's relaxed supervision.
As the afternoon dragged on, the introductory phase finally concluded. Mr. Brackin tapped his digital spellbook, preparing to wrap up his first appearance.
"Alright, class, I will start the actual lesson by our next meeting ah," he announced, his tone shifting into full instructor mode. "And please ensure that everyone has already joined our Google Classroom ah, so that I can give the activities and lessons there po."
He then pointed toward the front of the room, laying down his final, mandatory quest mechanic for the class.
"And also, before I arrive in the room next time, the TV should be set up already ah. So that I can just connect my tablet and our discussion will be straight and continuous."
Efficiency at its finest. The elite educator does not waste time fumbling with extension cords.
With all instructions laid out and the timeline optimized, Mr. Brackin picked up his sleek tumbler and his mini sling bag.
"That would be all for today. See you next week," he smiled.
The class formally bid him goodbye. He stepped out of the room, his aura of calm competence leaving a lasting impression on BEEd 1-A.
Jiro checked his phone screen. 3:36 PM.
The class was officially dismissed. The grueling, confusing Monday was over way earlier than the portal had threatened.
Wooden armchairs with metal feet scraped loudly against the bare concrete floor. Zippers zipped. The students immediately began packing their bags, ready to bolt for the exit and conquer the Raging Road back home. Jiro grabbed his heavy insulated tumbler and placed it inside his bag.
But... nobody was going home yet.
Before the first wave of students could even cross the threshold of the doorway, a sudden blockade was established.
The Class Treasurer had activated her merchant trap card.
Lindsey Soliko marched to the front, holding up a pristine, freshly printed piece of paper. It was the Class Fund Sheet. It was a beautiful, clean document with perfectly aligned empty rows for their names and blank columns where she would meticulously write down the date and week of collection.
It was a piece of paper that, in the coming months, was destined to turn into a folded, dusty artifact housed with the overlapping fingerprints of struggling college students.
But right now, it was her ultimate weapon.
Lindsey glared playfully at the escaping crowd, her voice cutting through the chaotic packing noises of Room 406.
"Hoy hoy, no one goes home yet ah!" Lindsey declared loudly, tapping the pristine sheet of paper. "Pay your class funds first!"
The great financial collection had officially begun.
Almost instantly, a small mob of responsible (and eager-to-leave) students rushed toward the front, waving their bills and coins. They swarmed her position, hands reaching out like a chaotic zombie horde.
Lindsey's eyes widened as the personal space vanished. She tried to manage the influx of cash and signatures simultaneously.
"Ay, just wait, just wait beh!" Lindsey panicked slightly, shielding her pristine tracking sheet. "Mine first! Sign here ah."
The crowd pushed closer, overlapping voices making it impossible to hear who was paying for what.
"Okay, wait, stop!" Lindsey finally declared, raising her hand like a traffic enforcer. She realized the stationary toll booth strategy was a failure. "Eh, I will just approach you guys. Go back to your seats!"
The crowd dispersed, and Lindsey officially transformed into a noisy, walking toll booth. She wandered around the room from row to row, hunting for coins like a pirate finding treasure—which made perfect sense, considering she was the Treasurer.
But her mobile operation hit a critical error almost immediately.
"Here is fifty," one classmate said. "I have one hundred," another offered.
Lindsey slapped her forehead, an instant headache forming. "Hala, mga beh, I don't have change yet eh!" she complained, looking at her empty pouch. "I will just give your change later ah, promise!"
She continued her patrol, eventually reaching the Door-Hallway section. She approached Jiro's territory.
Jiro was ready. He didn't offer a problematic hundred-peso bill. He pulled out a crisp, single twenty-peso bill.
10 pesos per week. 20 pesos equals two weeks of immunity from the Treasurer. "Here," Jiro handed it over.
"Wow, prepared," Lindsey grinned, accepting the bill. She paused, looking at the amount. "Wait, is this for one week or two weeks?"
Instead of answering verbally, Jiro simply raised his hand and flashed a calm, confident peace sign. Two weeks.
"Ah, okay beh, sign here," Lindsey nodded, pointing to her sheet. "You will pay again this September na ah."
Jiro nodded, scribbling his signature on the two empty columns beside his name. Financial quest cleared. Forward-thinking pays off. With his debts settled, Jiro packed up his mini fan and slung his bag over his shoulder. He waited by the doorway for a few minutes, letting his Circle of Friends finish their own payments and retouching.
Once the squad was ready, they waved goodbye to the remaining students.
"Bye guys!" Niewi called out.
Jiro and his COF finally stepped out of Room 406, beginning their trek down the stairs at exactly 3:44 PM.
Back inside the room, the Treasurer wasn't done yet. Lindsey was still wandering around, hunting down the final targets.
"Uy guys, announcement ah!" Lindsey shouted across the room to anyone still packing up. "By Wednesday, I will collect the 'any amount' contributions for the upcoming Buwan ng Wika 2024 event! So prepare your coins ah!"
As the noisy walking toll booth wrapped up her duties, a new faction mobilized.
It was Group Alpha. The designated cleaners for the day.
Cristel Basha, Alpha Agane, Reo Bairo, Brittany Bausta, Jesper Arufe, and Anila Bakuda officially clocked in for duty.
They moved with military efficiency. Jesper and Brittany started closing the thin, noisy casement windows, cutting off the afternoon heat. Cristel and Alpha grabbed the brooms from the back corner, immediately sweeping the candy wrappers and dust into neat piles. Anila moved to the switches, systematically turning off the ceiling fans.
And then, the most important protocol of all was executed.
Reo Bairo pulled out her smartphone. She stood by the teacher's table, raising her camera to capture the perfectly aligned chairs, the closed windows, and the clean floor.
Click. Click. She carefully took photos for documentation. It was the absolute execution of the new rule suggested by Anila Bakuda and approved by the class president just that morning. Photo evidence secured. No other section can blame BEEd 1-A for a messy room now.
With the chores completed, the rest of the lingering students, including the Treasurer, finally filed out of the room.
At exactly 3:49 PM, the cleaning operation wrapped up. Cristel Basha moved to secure the perimeter. Both wooden doors of Room 406 were equipped with deadbolt lock knobs. She stood at the front threshold near the blackboard, pushed the deadbolt on the first door, and pulled it shut with a satisfying clack.
Front door secured.
She then walked to the back door to make her exit. Since she didn't have the key to lock the deadbolt from the outside, she simply pulled the heavy wooden door shut behind her.
The room was left partially locked—a standard procedure, leaving the final lockdown access to the roving campus guards.
Cristel turned around, joining Alpha Agane and Reo Bairo. The three of them walked down the hallway together, chatting lightly. Cristel and Alpha were such lowkey but incredibly cute pals. Even though Alpha was wearing her face mask and naturally possessed a very shy, introverted aura, she was still talking a bit, comfortably sharing small thoughts with Cristel as they made their way down the stairs.
While the sweepers headed home, another group was just starting their after-school campaign.
Down in the bustling streets of Taytay, specifically around the chaotic, vibrant area of Taytay Tiangge, a massive squad had formed.
It was the Binangonan Tribe... plus one adopted member.
Lindsey Soliko, Gracie Masado, Hidy Medona, Hurd Onasa, Jayter Celda, Cristy Michiya, and Francine Cenia were roaming the busy market streets. And walking right alongside them was Jachie Marello. Jachie was the sole anomaly in the group—she didn't live in Binangonan. She lived in the higher elevations of Angono, but she frequently resided right here in the Taytay market whenever she needed to manage her family's vegetable stall.
By around 4:00 PM, the sky suddenly darkened, and a sudden downpour hit the streets.
Rain buff activated. Movement speed reduced to zero.
Since they all faced a grueling, traffic-heavy commute going back east, getting soaked was not an option. They ducked into a brightly lit convenience store near the highway, relishing the blast of free air conditioning to dry off and taking shelter while waiting for the rain to stop and hoping for a ride to clear up.
Since they were all trying to save their allowances, no one bought any snacks or drinks. There was no grand reserved long table for them either. They just scattered around the store's seating area, taking up separate, smaller tables, shoving their heavy bags underneath to secure their spots.
It wasn't a lively, unadulterated after-school bonding fueled by energetic chatter. It was the exact opposite.
There were no rumors. No loud gossip about their new elite professor. No shared laughter.
They just sat there in silence, heads down, completely absorbed in scrolling through their cellphones. The post-class exhaustion had finally caught up to them, perfectly matched by the dull rhythm of the rain hitting the convenience store glass.
The silence dragged on as they waited.
Finally, Lindsey, who naturally possessed an endless supply of energy, broke the quiet tension.
"Huy, aren't we going home yet ah?" Lindsey asked loudly, looking up from her screen. "We will have a hard time getting a ride later eh. The traffic is going to be so dead."
Hidy looked up, her Commander senses instantly tingling as she checked the time. "Ay, true," she agreed, shifting in her seat. "The rain is starting to lighten up a bit anyway. Let's get ready."
But before facing the Raging Road, they decided to stretch their legs and do a little indoor exploration. They wandered around the aisles of the convenience store, just window-shopping the items they were too cheap to buy, finally waking up from their digital trance.
And, of course, no college gathering is complete without the mandatory documentation.
"Picture!" someone shouted.
They clustered together in one of the aisles. Jayter stepped up, taking charge of the camera angle. He grabbed Jachie's phone, holding it up high to fit all eight of them into the frame. They flashed peace signs and bright smiles for a quick group selfie, capturing the memory of their first official college hangout while waiting out the storm.
At exactly 5:30 PM, they finally stepped out of the convenience store.
The blast of humid, post-rain air hit them instantly. The Raging Road was in full swing. It was the absolute peak of rush hour.
They didn't know it yet, but their stalling tactic had ironically placed them right in the middle of the worst commuting window possible.
The tribe was forcefully split up by the limited seating capacity of the passing jeepneys.
Gracie, Francine, Lindsey, Jayter, Hurd, and Cristy were the first ones to escape the battlefield. At exactly 5:42 PM, they miraculously managed to squeeze themselves into a packed jeepney, waving goodbye to the rest of the squad as they made their swift exit.
This left the Commander, Hidy, and the sole Angono resident, Jachie, stranded on the wet, dusty sidewalk.
It took almost another half hour of standing in the thick exhaust fumes before Hidy and Jachie finally caught their own ride at 6:07 PM.
But escaping Taytay was only phase one of the survival quest. The drop-offs along the Manila East Road varied wildly based on their geographical locations.
Jachie had the earliest and easiest extraction, hopping off at Angono. Hidy (from the second jeepney) and Cristy (from the first jeepney) successfully disembarked next at Tayuman. Lindsey then tapped out and headed home as soon as they hit Bilibiran.
But the suffering wasn't over for the rest of the vanguard. Since Gracie, Francine, Hurd, and Jayter lived all the way down in Binangonan proper (Libis/Libid), their jeepney had to crawl much deeper into the province. They got completely stuck in the notorious Bilibiran-Pantok-Darangan traffic chokepoint, sitting helplessly in gridlock for more than 40 painful minutes.
While Hurd, Gracie, Francine, and Jayter were still hopelessly trapped in the exhaust-choked gridlock of Pantok, the digital realm refused to sleep.
At exactly 7:18 PM, Hidy forwarded a message and a link to the main section group chat.
It was an announcement regarding the voter's registration for their organization, the FEC. Looking closely at the timestamp of the forwarded message, it was almost a day old.
Jiro, comfortably resting in his bed back in Taytay, saw the notification pop up.
Ah. The Commander is still working, Jiro noted, shaking his head. Catching up on delayed admin duties at this hour. Respect the grind.
By the time the final survivors finally reached their respective homes, the clock read 7:28 PM. The afternoon chill session had resulted in a grueling, nearly two-hour commute.
But the Commander wasn't done for the night. The weight of her elected crown demanded more sacrifices.
At 9:29 PM, another message from Hidy lit up the main GC.
Hidy Medona: "Guys, is there any of you who wants to participate in Buwan ng Wika 2024?"
It was a desperate plea for volunteers. A section needed representatives to avoid looking entirely apathetic during the campus-wide event.
Hidy Medona: "Even just one person for one contest ah, so I can coordinate it to the other year levels ^^"
The double-caret smile returned. It was polite, but the exhaustion was seeping through the pixels.
However, the plea for heroes was quickly derailed by the class jesters. Deanne and Anila immediately jumped into the chat, not to volunteer, but to actively troll the request. They started playing around with the message, tossing random names of their classmates like sacrifices to the tribute, turning the serious recruitment drive into a late-night comedy thread.
Jiro just watched the chaos unfold on his screen, entirely unbothered, until he finally locked his phone and let the night take over.
August 20 (Tuesday)
The T/TH immunity buff was real. It was a Tuesday. Finally, no classes.
Jiro spent the morning entirely offline. His HP and social battery were actively recharging and healing well. He was basically sitting in the recovery fountain, enjoying the absolute bliss of doing absolutely nothing.
But the institution itself was allergic to peace.
At 1:03 PM, the digital alarms blared.
Reo Bairo sent a link into the main section group chat. It was an official academic calendar update regarding the Prelim examinations scheduled for the second week of September.
And then, she dropped the reality check that was on everyone's mind.
Reo Bairo: "We don't even have any proper lessons yet, and our professors aren't even complete... but there is an announcement for the prelim exam already?"
The chat instantly exploded. It was a mass casualty event.
The screen was flooded with pure despair. Shock emojis 😱. Sad emojis 😢. Sobbing and crying emojis 😭. The realization that they were expected to take major exams for ghost subjects hit the BEEd 1-A cohort like a critical strike.
How do you take an exam for Purposive Communication when the professor is literally 'TBA'? Are we supposed to guess the answers based on vibes?
But the universe wasn't done playing with their emotions. As the afternoon progressed, a new, entirely different kind of tension began to grip the class.
All throughout the day, news reports had been rolling in about Taal Volcano's unrest. It was releasing massive plumes of volcanic smog (vog), which was rapidly spreading and blanketing the neighboring provinces. Several towns and cities across Rizal and Metro Manila had already declared class suspensions much earlier in the day.
The students of BEEd 1-A were glued to their screens, waiting for the ultimate salvation.
Come on, Mayor. Declare it. Give us the Calamity Suspension.
And then, the Commander delivered the holy grail.
Hidy Medona sent a link into the main group chat. It was the official announcement from the Taytay Public Information Office. The Mayor had officially declared a suspension of face-to-face classes for tomorrow, Wednesday.
"Ohhh, hell yeah," Jiro muttered to himself, staring at the chat. He didn't even need to scroll through Facebook; the Commander always provided the intel. "Another heaven moment is secured."
The group chat instantly exploded into a massive digital party. Emojis of fireworks, hearts, and dancing characters flooded the screen. The entire class was celebrating their hard-won victory against the academic calendar.
But... but... but.
Just when the celebration was reaching its absolute peak, the system deployed its ultimate counter-buff. The party bomb dropped.
Hidy forwarded a message from a higher authority into the GC.
Hidy Medona: "Online learning will proceed tomorrow."
Jiro just stared at the message on his screen.
Ahh. Okay.Doesn't even want to lose.
The collective groan of the class was almost audible through the chat. The physical suspension was granted, but the academic grind was inescapable.
Sensing the rapidly dropping morale of her troops—from the dread of the sudden Prelims to the stolen joy of the Vog suspension—President Hidy stepped up. She dropped a rare, but incredibly precious piece of leadership advice to guide her panicked section.
Hidy Medona: "Guys, let's just finish all the classes we can attend so we won't struggle in the prelims ✅🫂"
It was a gentle push. A reminder that running away wouldn't solve the impending exams. But she didn't just offer empty platitudes; she offered an actual survival strategy for the ghost subjects.
Hidy Medona: "It is really self-study when there is no prof. If you get bored reading, try looking online—use the syllabus for that sub as a guide, then watch videos on YouTube so it isn't boring, and at the same time you still get insights 😊"
She ended her manifesto with a final, comforting reassurance.
Hidy Medona: "And whatever really works for you, do it. You can do this!"
Jiro read the message twice. A slow smirk crept onto his face.
That's fair for her and for us, he noted. It was solid advice to calm the anxious masses, but his internal strategist immediately found a massive loophole. But what if we do not even have an exam for those TBA ghost subjects? Why would we try to waste time studying other contexts that may only end up in entirely different topics or scopes from what the actual professor wants? Lol.
Either with it, just wait for it.
The heavy burden of being "Future Educators" was definitely stressing his classmates out, but Jiro? He honestly didn't care. He remained completely nonchalant, quietly observing the digital chaos from the safety of his room. As he locked his phone, mentally preparing for a Wednesday of online classes instead of sweating in Room 406, a wave of absolute relief washed over him.
He wasn't going to set up a laptop or stare at a computer screen like a generic, try-hard student. That was way too much hassle. With his phone, he could literally just lie flat on his bed, plug his earphones in, and listen to the lectures while staring somewhere.
He was resting. The clan was surviving. And tomorrow was another day to comfortably navigate the unpredictable routine of college life—straight from the comfort of his mattress.
END OF THE ELITE EDUCATOR