13/05/2025
I was one of the many teachers who served during the midterm elections yesterday. Not in front of a class this time, but in a polling place filled with strangers trying to make their voices count.
In our polling station, we had four precincts and over 700 registered voters. Most of them came. Very few were absent. And being there the whole day, watching, assisting, listening, it made me reflect on so many things.
One of the first things I noticed was how everyone, regardless of who they are, had to line up and wait their turn. No skipping, no special treatment. Whether you were a business owner, a driver, or someone in uniform, you lined up like everyone else. And somehow, that felt comforting. For a brief moment, we were all just citizens, equal in the eyes of the process.
People were so patient. To a point that it felt both admirable and sad. They waited in the heat, sometimes for hours, and there were those that didn’t complain. Some even joked around, as if they were used to things not going smoothly. And that’s where it hit me, we’ve become too used to this kind of system. Too used to waiting. Too used to settling to systemic inefficiencies, something we should no longer just “tolerate."
But still, they came. Because they believed their vote mattered.
I saw an old man with shaky hands clutching his ballot like it was gold. A young girl voting for the first time, nervous but proud. Someone in a wheelchair who didn’t want to be assisted unless absolutely necessary. You’d think these people would just give up and go home. But no, they stayed. Because they believed in something. They believed in the power of their vote. Despite the heat, the long lines, and the wait, people still showed up. Seeing senior citizens, persons with different abilities, and first-time voters showing up with hope and determination reminded me that many Filipinos still believe change is possible through elections.
And I saw how careful they were. They shaded the ovals slowly, almost afraid to mess up. They kept asking, “Okay lang po ba 'to?” or “Baka hindi mabasa ng machine?” That kind of concern, it’s not just about wanting to get things right. It’s about wanting their small voice to be heard properly. Such a deep desire for change. Whether they voted for old names or new ones, one thing’s clear: people are tired of the same problems. Corruption. Poverty. Poor governance. Most of us, Filipinos, want better lives, even if our definitions of “better” differ.
It also became clear how divided we still are. I’d be lying if I said the day didn’t reveal that we are still a politically polarized nation. And you feel it, not just online but right there in the flesh. You see it in the side-eyes, in the conversations, some were silently judging others for their choices, and I won’t lie, I caught myself doing the same. But I reminded myself, we’re allowed to have different beliefs. That divide is deep. But maybe it’s something we just have to acknowledge, that we won’t always agree, and that’s okay, what matters is that we’re trying, that we made the effort to know who we’re voting for, as long as we respect each other’s choices and try to understand where they come from.
Serving that day also gave me a deeper appreciation for everyone working behind the scenes, fellow teachers who kept going despite barely sitting down, they almost didn't eat, the security personnel who never left their post making sure there's peace and order. No loud heroics, just people doing their job, hoping the day would end well.
And you know what? We were hopeful, even when we were all tired. Filipinos continue to hope.
Hope that maybe, just maybe, we’ll choose better this time. Hope that the people we elected will actually care. Hope that the country we love will somehow move forward, even slowly.
It wasn’t a perfect day. Not even close. But it made me proud to be Filipino. Because we’re still trying. And maybe that’s enough for now.
LITTLEMISS | ASW 📝
