You know that eerie, golden silence that sits right in the middle of a storm? That was Wednesday, February 4, 2026.
Sandwiched between a nasty shear line that suspended classes earlier in the week and the looming threat of Tropical Storm Basyang—which forced another suspension just a day later—the skies over Tacloban cleared up just enough for something spectacular to happen.
While the rest of the region was anxiously checking weather updates, the Department of Chemistry was busy setting the Miguel Romualdez Memorial Auditorium on fire.
Metaphorically, of course.
The Testimonial Ceremony for the 2025 Chemists and Chemical Technician Board Passers wasn’t just a formal program. It was a victory lap. It felt less like a stiff academic ceremony and more like a reunion of survivors who had walked through fire and lived to tell the tale.
Bright Minds, Sunny Skies
“It is quite sunny out today,” the host, 3rd-year BS Chemistry student Mr. Edrian Carl C. Boone, noted, looking out at the crowd. “The sun is blessing us with plenty of rays from its emission spectrum.”
The timing couldn’t have been weirder—or more perfect. Outside, the weather was holding its breath. Inside, the department’s “brightest minds” were being honored. The theme wasn’t just about passing a test; it was about resilience. Or, as Edrian wittily put it: “let’s turn on the Bunsen Burner and set our hearts and souls ablaze.”
There was a palpable sense of relief in the air, mixed with a bit of Gen Z humor.
“Kumusta kalabasa sa inyong lahat?” Boone joked, breaking the ice. (For the uninitiated—and I actually had to ask him about this—it’s a nod to Pinoy drag lingo he picked up from YouTube. It rhymes with kumusta ka, so it just works. You gotta love the flair).
He then checked if everyone was still “doing as fine as nanoparticles.” It set the tone for the rest of the morning: equal parts scientific precision and unfiltered, messy human emotion.
The “32/130” Reality Check
If you think board topnotchers and passers are just naturally gifted geniuses who never fail, you needed to hear Gabriel Louis B. Peralta’s story.
Standing at the podium, Gab didn’t talk about how easy it was. He talked about getting absolutely wrecked.
“If 2nd year was a slap in the face, the Board Exam was like fighting prime Manny Pacquiao,” Gab quipped, drawing laughs from the students who knew exactly what he meant. He shared a memory that would make any chemistry major wince: scoring a 32/130 on an Organic Chemistry exam.
“Being smart was just an entrance ticket,” he admitted. “Being smart alone will no longer work in this environment.”
He recounted the horror of the board exams, particularly Analytical Chemistry, where “all hopes went out the window” because the questions covered obscure topics they hadn’t focused on. But his message wasn’t about the failure; it was about the reaction. “Failing to remember the proper pathway 10 times doesn’t mean you failed,” he told the undergraduates. “It only means you’re one step closer to the right reaction.”
When Confidence Runs Out, Use Discipline
Lester Puertullano took a different route. His testimony was a quiet confession for anyone who has ever felt like an imposter.
“To be honest, this journey was not inspiring most of the time,” Lester said, dropping the usual ‘reach for the stars’ rhetoric. “It was tiring. It was draining.”
He spoke about the crushing routine of review centers—wake up, study, eat, sleep, repeat—until it felt like being in prison of your own making. He failed his mock boards. He doubted himself constantly.
“My scores were always below five out of ten,” he recalled of his early review days. “The review humbled me very quickly.”
But here’s the kicker: he kept going anyway. “You don’t always need confidence to keep going,” Lester said, delivering perhaps the most powerful line of the event. “Sometimes, discipline is enough.”
Sacrificing the “Gala”
For Niña May C. Dela Piña, the battle was physical as well as mental. Battling sickness during her third year, she often found herself in the hospital questioning, “Why now? Why me?”
Her journey to the license was a masterclass in sacrifice. She talked about the “Fear of Missing Out” (FOMO) before it was cool to admit it. “I chose who or what to sacrifice,” she said. “I sacrificed my happiness.”
While her friends were out having fun—her “happiness and home,” as she called them—she stayed behind. “I chose to study even when it hurt. I chose to keep going even when stopping felt easier.”
It was a stark reminder to the current students: the license costs something. It costs time, it costs energy, and sometimes, it costs saying no to the people you love for a little while.
The “Nonchalant” Strategy
Then there was Sheila Mae Tanpiengco, who brought the practical big-sister energy the room needed. Her advice? “I-semento ang study habits as early as now.”
She gave a step-by-step breakdown of how to survive, from “cementing” your routine to the importance of being emotionally stable. “If may jowa ka, i-kontrata mo na no break ups during that time,” she joked, but the crowd nodded. (Solid advice, honestly).
Her final tip for waiting for the results? “Be nonchalant para mas mabilis lumabas ang results.”
Science with a Conscience
The event wasn’t just about the students. The faculty and administration made sure to ground these achievements in reality.
Dr. Benedicto T. Militante Jr., the Vice President for Academic Affairs, reminded the new professionals that they stand “at the intersection of science and humanity.”
“Your knowledge will shape the medicines that heal, the materials that build safer homes… and the innovations that feed a growing nation,” Dr. Militante said. He urged them to be “perpetual students” because chemistry doesn’t stop evolving just because you passed the board.
But it was Ms. Verone A. Espanto who dropped the heaviest truth bomb of the day. In her response from the faculty, she reminded the passers that chemists are “double-edged swords.”
She invoked the story of Fritz Haber, the scientist who revolutionized
agriculture with nitrogen fixation but also pioneered chemical warfare in World War I. “We hope your knowledge is used for the good,” she said solemnly. It was a moment of gravitas that cut through the celebration—a reminder that competence without ethics is dangerous.
The Candle Passes On
As the ceremony wound down, the “Candle Passing Ceremony” took place. The new board passers, now holding the flame of their profession, symbolically passed the light to the 3rd and 4th-year students.
“I hope these tips, lessons, and experiences stuck to you like heavy metal ions adsorbing onto activated carbon,” Mr. Boone said, sliding in one last chemistry pun. “I hope it didn’t just elute through your ears.”
Prof. Grechelle N. Socias, the Department Head, closed the event with gratitude. She thanked the admin, the Chem Soc (Chemistry Society), and the families, but she saved her biggest salute for the honorees. “Your success stands as proof that determination, discipline, and courage can turn dreams into reality.”
Back to the Storm
As the event ended and the attendees stepped out of the auditorium, the clouds were already gathering again. Tropical Storm Basyang was on its way. The brief window of sunshine was closing.
But looking at the faces of the new chemists—and the inspired students following in their footsteps—you got the feeling they were ready for it. They had their licenses. They had their discipline. And most importantly, they had their fire.
Let the storm come. They’ve got the chemistry to handle the pressure.
This article is aligned with Sustainable Devel0pment Goal (SDG) 04: Quality Education
via KB Santos | UMDC
