22/09/2025
๐๐๐ผ๐๐๐๐ | ๐ฟ๐ง๐๐ฃ๐๐๐๐ ๐ฟ๐ง๐๐๐ข๐จ ๐๐ฃ๐ ๐ฟ๐ง๐ฎ ๐๐๐๐๐ฉ๐จ
๐ฃ๐บ ๐๐ญ๐ฆ๐น๐ข ๐๐ท๐ช๐ญ๐ข
๐ ๐๐๐ฝ๐ต๐ผ๐ผ๐ป ๐ฑ๐ถ๐๐ถ๐ฑ๐ฒ๐โ๐๐ต๐ผ ๐ด๐ฒ๐๐ ๐๐ต๐ฒ ๐ฐ๐ผ๐บ๐ณ๐ผ๐ฟ๐, ๐๐ต๐ผ ๐ด๐ฒ๐๐ ๐๐ต๐ฒ ๐ณ๐น๐ผ๐ผ๐ฑ?
Typhoons in the Northern Philippines are not new. Weโve grown up with storm signals, red warnings, and the anxious wait for class suspensions. ๐ง๐ต๐ฒ๐ฟ๐ฒ'๐ ๐ฎ๐ป ๐ผ๐ฏ๐๐ถ๐ผ๐๐, ๐๐ต๐ฎ๐ฟ๐ฝ๐ฒ๐ฟ ๐ฑ๐ถ๐๐ถ๐ฑ๐ฒโ๐๐๐ผ ๐ฐ๐ผ๐ป๐๐ฟ๐ฎ๐๐๐ถ๐ป๐ด ๐ฒ๐
๐ฝ๐ฒ๐ฟ๐ถ๐ฒ๐ป๐ฐ๐ฒ๐ ๐ฐ๐ฎ๐ฟ๐๐ฒ๐ฑ ๐ฏ๐ ๐ฝ๐ฟ๐ถ๐๐ถ๐น๐ฒ๐ด๐ฒ. On one side are students who see rain as a temporary break, a reason to rest and so, to celebrate. On the other, are students for whom rain is a threatโto safety, to education, to survival itself.
Drizzlingโtiny droplets sliding down glass windows, a dark curtain pulling over the sky. In air-conditioned rooms, laughter echoes. โ๐๐ข๐จ๐ฑ๐ช๐จ๐ด๐ข ๐ต๐ถ๐ฅ๐ฐ๐ฏ, ๐ข๐ธ๐ข๐ฏ ๐ฌ๐ถ๐ฎ๐ข ๐ฌ๐ญ๐ข๐ด๐ฆ ๐ต๐ถ๐ฏ ๐ฃ๐ช๐จ๐ข๐ต!โ one student posted, tagging friends with memes, rainy day naps and Netflix marathons, as tucked in a concrete house, surrounded by solar backup power and pantry stocks. ๐ ๐ฐ๐๐ฝ ๐ผ๐ณ ๐ฐ๐ผ๐ณ๐ณ๐ฒ๐ฒ ๐ฝ๐ฎ๐ถ๐ฟ๐ฒ๐ฑ ๐๐ถ๐๐ต ๐ฎ ๐ฝ๐ฎ๐๐๐ฟ๐, ๐๐ฎ๐ฟ๐บ ๐ฎ๐ป๐ฑ ๐๐ต๐ถ๐ฐ๐ธ ๐ฏ๐น๐ฎ๐ป๐ธ๐ฒ๐๐, ๐ฎ๐ป๐ฑ ๐๐ผ๐ณ๐ ๐บ๐๐๐ถ๐ฐโ๐๐ต๐ถ๐ ๐ถ๐ ๐๐ต๐ฒ ๐น๐ฎ๐๐ถ๐๐ต ๐ผ๐ณ ๐๐ต๐ฒ ๐๐๐ผ๐ฟ๐บ ๐ณ๐ผ๐ฟ ๐๐ต๐ฒ ๐ฝ๐ฟ๐ถ๐๐ถ๐น๐ฒ๐ด๐ฒ๐ฑ ๐ผ๐ป๐ฒ๐.
But just a few kilometers away, the same rain pours on a rusted roof covered with tarpaulin and old election posters. It leaks. Children flocking in the corners, school uniforms already soaked through. Another student is already sailing into the knee-deep polluted floodwater, trying to save their school essentials. Their education doesnโt pause with a Netflix showโit drowns, disappears, washes away with every book ruined by flood. Thereโs no Wi-Fi, no streaming service, just the frantic struggle to keep notebooks dry and siblings calm. ๐ง๐ต๐ถ๐, ๐๐ผ๐ผ, ๐ถ๐ ๐๐ต๐ฒ ๐๐๐ผ๐ฟ๐บ, ๐๐ต๐ฒ ๐ฟ๐ฒ๐ฎ๐น ๐ผ๐ป๐ฒโ๐ท๐๐๐ ๐ป๐ผ๐ ๐๐ต๐ฒ ๐ธ๐ถ๐ป๐ฑ ๐๐ต๐ฎ๐ ๐ด๐ฎ๐ถ๐ป๐ ๐ฎ๐๐๐ฒ๐ป๐๐ถ๐ผ๐ป ๐ผ๐ป๐น๐ถ๐ป๐ฒ.
These students are the same age, born under the same flag, reciting the same pledge and singing the same national anthem every morning. ๐๐๐ ๐๐ต๐ฒ๐ ๐น๐ถ๐๐ฒ ๐ถ๐ป ๐ฑ๐ถ๐ณ๐ณ๐ฒ๐ฟ๐ฒ๐ป๐ ๐๐ฒ๐ฟ๐๐ถ๐ผ๐ป๐ ๐ผ๐ณ ๐๐ต๐ฒ ๐๐ฎ๐บ๐ฒ ๐๐๐ผ๐ฟ๐บ. One posts about movie nights and โambience,โ the other prays their home wonโt collapse under the wind. ๐ข๐ป๐ฒโ๐ ๐ฎ๐บ๐ฏ๐ถ๐ฒ๐ป๐ฐ๐ฒ ๐ถ๐ ๐๐ต๐ฒ ๐ผ๐๐ต๐ฒ๐ฟโ๐ ๐ฑ๐ฒ๐๐ฝ๐ฎ๐ถ๐ฟ ๐ฎ๐ป๐ฑ ๐ฎ๐ป๐ด๐๐ถ๐๐ต.
Itโs not wrong to enjoy a quiet, rainy day. But it becomes a problem when we romanticize storms without acknowledging those who suffer because of them. โStay safe,โ we say. ๐๐๐ ๐๐ฎ๐ณ๐ฒ๐๐ ๐ถ๐๐ปโ๐ ๐ฎ ๐ฐ๐ต๐ผ๐ถ๐ฐ๐ฒ ๐ณ๐ผ๐ฟ ๐๐ต๐ฒ ๐บ๐ฎ๐ฟ๐ด๐ถ๐ป๐ฎ๐น๐ถ๐๐ฒ๐ฑโ๐ถ๐โ๐ ๐ฎ ๐ฝ๐ฟ๐ถ๐๐ถ๐น๐ฒ๐ด๐ฒ, ๐๐ผ๐บ๐ฒ๐๐ต๐ถ๐ป๐ด ๐๐ต๐ฒ๐ ๐ฟ๐ฎ๐ฟ๐ฒ๐น๐ ๐ฟ๐ฒ๐ฎ๐ฐ๐ต.
And while the government suspends classes โfor the sake of everyoneโs safety,โ itโs a delayed relief for those who already missed school, already lost school papers, already fought just to get to class. ๐ง๐ต๐ฒ ๐๐๐ฝ๐ต๐ผ๐ผ๐ป ๐ฑ๐ผ๐ฒ๐๐ปโ๐ ๐ท๐๐๐ ๐ณ๐น๐ผ๐ผ๐ฑ ๐ฟ๐ผ๐ฎ๐ฑ๐โ๐ถ๐ ๐ณ๐น๐ผ๐ผ๐ฑ๐ ๐ฑ๐ฟ๐ฒ๐ฎ๐บ๐. ๐๐ ๐๐ฒ๐ฝ๐ฎ๐ฟ๐ฎ๐๐ฒ๐ ๐๐ต๐ผ๐๐ฒ ๐๐ต๐ผ โ๐๐ฎ๐ถ๐ ๐ณ๐ผ๐ฟ ๐ฎ๐ป๐ป๐ผ๐๐ป๐ฐ๐ฒ๐บ๐ฒ๐ป๐๐โ ๐ณ๐ฟ๐ผ๐บ ๐๐ต๐ผ๐๐ฒ ๐๐ต๐ผ ๐ต๐ฎ๐๐ฒ ๐๐ผ ๐๐๐ถ๐บ ๐๐ต๐ฟ๐ผ๐๐ด๐ต ๐๐ต๐ฒ๐บ.
We pride ourselves on being woke, on caring about equity and voice. But perhaps itโs time we look at the storm not just from the windows of our bedrooms, but from the puddles on the streets of forgotten neighborhoods.
๐๐ฒ๐ฐ๐ฎ๐๐๐ฒ ๐ถ๐ป ๐๐ต๐ถ๐ ๐ฐ๐ผ๐๐ป๐๐ฟ๐, ๐๐ต๐ฒ๐ป ๐ถ๐ ๐ฟ๐ฎ๐ถ๐ป๐โ๐ถ๐ ๐ฝ๐ผ๐๐ฟ๐. ๐๐๐ ๐ป๐ผ๐ ๐๐ต๐ฒ ๐๐ฎ๐บ๐ฒ ๐ผ๐ป ๐ฒ๐๐ฒ๐ฟ๐๐ผ๐ป๐ฒ.
