This isn’t the Ateneo that we know

When it becomes more about damage control than compassion, it becomes clear that other interests have taken precedence.

“Time is up! Stop writing.”

I recall hearing these words several times when I took the Ateneo College Entrance Test (ACET) back in 2011. A phrase that cut through the silence, reverberating across a room of high school students, gazing intently at sheets of paper, filled with circles that needed to be shaded.

Those words felt heavier than usual. After all, we were taking the test that could define our future.

It goes beyond saying that this isn’t the Ateneo that we know. At its core, it is lacking. Dehumanizing. Not the course that a man or woman for others would take.

These entrance exams are effective equalizers. Yes, we prepare for them differently: some spend weekends in review centers, or after-hours in school-led preparations. Some are driven to the testing sites; others travel distances, as if to wage war in a foreign country.

But once we sit on those chairs and leaf through the exam booklets, it’s an even playing field. Same questions, same cadence, same start and finish.

Better yet, think about the moments before and after the test. Anxiety and dread do not discriminate. Students hugging their parents or guardians, uttering a prayer before they walk toward the testing centers. And when everything is over, a collective sigh of relief—it is done!

Ateneo volunteer

I became a volunteer for the ACET in my third year. What began as a means to whittle down my required service hours as a scholar became an opportunity to understand Ateneo more intimately, through the eyes of those who work tirelessly to advocate a particular education and lifestyle that they fervently believe in. The Ateneo Way, as they call it.

These are the men and women who humanize the Latin phrases that we see and hear on campus every day. The people who truly care for the whole person (cura personalis), who always go above and beyond (the spirit of magis), who are—and perhaps, one of the most quoted values—“men and women for others.” Fellow scholars, ardent educators, and diligent administrative staff who understand why an Atenean education is less about its perceived prestige and more about how it develops holistic individuals imbued with the right balance of competence and compassion.

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Yes, they’re my chosen community that allowed me to cut through the noise, the muck of stereotypes and assumptions that obscure and tarnish one’s understanding of what being an Atenean is about.

It’s been a decade since I left Ateneo, but I still volunteer for the ACET. It is a way of paying it forward, especially since my education was rooted in someone else’s overflowing generosity.

But beyond that, all it takes is for me to recall the memories I spent with my fellow scholar-volunteers, waking up at the crack of dawn to prepare test booklets, sort out answer sheets, fix seat plans, pace back and forth while keeping track of time per subtest, and finally sighing in solidarity with the examinees as they hear the final word: “Time’s up! Stop writing.”

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I speak for them when I say that this deeper understanding of an Atenean education pushes us to be its fiercest advocates beyond mere words or lip service. We actually take time out of our busy days and professional schedules to have a literal hand at the futures of many Atenean hopefuls. We were once like them; now, as students and alumni, we want to help you be one of us.

And more often than not, when you volunteer for these kinds of initiatives, you meet students and alumni whose life stories seem radically different, but are rooted in the same motivations. Young adults who want a better future for their family, using education as a means to uplift their lives. Teenagers who leave home, leaving behind a city, a province, or even a country, to forge a better version of themselves.

There’s that perceived prestige at the onset, yes; but they leave the nest understanding that being Atenean goes beyond perceptions. Its essence lies beyond bleeding blue no matter what: it’s about embodying and humanizing Ignatian values in one’s everyday life. One doesn’t need to announce or reiterate that one is Atenean; they just have to be. It sounds simple, but it’s easier said than done.

Tragic deaths

It bears repeating, it bears reminding: how Ateneo handled the deaths of Rene Clert Baterbonia and Divine Adili was disappointing.

It goes beyond saying that this isn’t the Ateneo that we know. At its core, it is lacking. Dehumanizing. Not the course that a man or woman for others would take.

When it becomes more of a matter of damage control than compassion, you understand that other interests take primacy and immediacy. Interests that do not include the lives of Rene and Divine. The resounding silence did not help either, fueling the fires of speculation that burned Rene and Divine’s loved ones in agony.

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It’s been a decade since I left Ateneo, but I still volunteer for the ACET. It is a way of paying it forward, especially since my education was rooted in someone else’s overflowing generosity.

And it continues to spread like wildfire, even if measures continue to be taken to mitigate the issue. Social media statements bereft of emotion and information. A curated apology video. A press conference one week delayed. It is inferno, I could imagine—a living hell. Not only for those in power who continue to fan their self-inflicted flames, but ultimately, for the families Rene and Divine left behind, who continue to suffer with every misstep that Ateneo is taking.

This isn’t the Ateneo that we know. Well-meaning students and alumni have reiterated this sentiment, and they will continue to do so. It’s more disparaging for me, for us scholar-volunteers who have been staunch advocates of an Atenean education, through the work that we do.

For a moment, I considered not volunteering this year until Ateneo gets its act together. How could I grapple with the idea of spreading the gospel of Ignatian values, through our words and work, if Ateneo continues to—as far as their actions imply—serve interests that don’t place these very values at the center?

It seems like the work to be done here isn’t about being an advocate of Ateneo outside of its halls. We need our calls to echo within its walls, loud and resonant enough for those in power to get reminded what it means to be Atenean, however ironic that sounds.

And more importantly, so as long as the above isn’t satisfied yet, we continue to clamor for just, transparent, and humane proceedings as we honor and respect Rene and Divine.

Time’s up, Ateneo. Stop writing this disgraceful chapter in your story.