Student I.D Number Fiasco (July 3,2007)

Student I.D. Number Fiasco
By: Maria Reylan M. Garcia

I don’t go looking for trouble, trouble usually finds me. Frankly, my everyday life seems to revolve around this witty piece of thought. By the word everyday, it really means everyday. It is evident even during my first few meeting on my college subjects; they were no excuse for my exceedingly reckless gift of trouble-seeking. Before I exhaust my point and ruthlessly make a fool out of my self, I’d like to stress out to the whole of publication media and its avid readers that I never welcome trouble, that I never wished to be in limelight because of trouble, I am not that hopeless enough to inhale the word, trouble. Now as things seem to be acquainted and settled, this will be the part where I’ll thoughtlessly divulge my innocent yet careless experiences of what I redundantly call as trouble.

I heard my Humanities professor calling out my name aloud. Unaware as I was, I thought I would be asked to define and give an overview of what our subject is or even with the slightest hope of him recognizing me to be a regular writer of this noble press. He called out my name, not because he wants me to recite what I’ve been memorizing all summer, nor he considers my articles to be outstanding, he called me out because I had a problem with my Student I.D. Number. A classmate of mine and I had the same student I.D. Number, I had a strong vibe that my classmate did no error or whatsoever with her information. Right there and then, seeing myself standing in the middle of the class, getting stares and presumed whispers, I knew that once again trouble found a way to my domain.

Simple as it is, the experience was humiliating and ego bursting. A college student who graduated high school as Valedictorian would miss out and incorrectly fill in her Student I.D. Number. Ouch, it was indeed a deep cut. All the while I thought the last digit of my Student I.D Number was 9, but because of my somewhat low proficiency in reading variation of handwritings, I never knew that the nine was supposedly the menacing number 6. At that point, I wanted to tell my professor how external factors made me vulnerable to my mistake and carelessness. I wanted to regain myself there and then; I wanted to neutralize the tomato colored pigmentation engulfing me. I know, this is super petty and insignificant, but for someone thought to be complicated as I, for having been unaware of the petty things, seems so not right.

I couldn’t do much, but wait for dismissal and strayed my incompetent feet towards the registrar’s office to verify my predictable mistake. I scanned through the student information and evidently saw what everyone was expecting, my Student I.D. Number to have 6 as the last digit instead of 9. A shout out sorry goes to my unfortunate classmate who suffered the quarter of humiliation I got for my petty mistake. The moment was so clear and apparent that I am having thoughts of thinking what face shall I present to my class and professor the next meeting. The next meeting when I would tell them how I intimately but in an unaware manner committed such an elementary mistake. I was so timid but agitated inside of the possible reactions. I know I have low confidence and self esteem, having this, would call a self-presuming down pull for my personality. But, I was wrong.


The day of our next Humanities meeting came, I was trembling. But I wanted to reminisce those few moments worth lingering for. As I was walking past the huge corridors of the university, I noticed myself breathing deeply and calmly, internalizing the aura of acceptance, the actualization of the quote which I quote “Too err is human.” Well, People of the World, I’m human and I supposedly err. I realized that I forgot to think more complex than what a complicated person like me should. I was actually as petty as my actions. What I had experience was but a reminder to me, that unlike the tales of perfection, I am human and I suffer the noble put painful art of imperfection. If Thomas Edison failed thousand of times, why could not a simple complicated youth like me? I fail to recall that indeed, the key to regaining my self worth and esteem was through the acceptance that at times, I may do petty and insignificant things which actually in turn teach me valuable and logical lessons.

I entered our classroom and faced our professor. I presented to him my class card with a darkened correction at the last digit. My professor looked at me and said nothing but smiled. I was plain and dull at that very period of time. I sighed and went back to my seat, now smiling relentlessly, coping up with my recovering self esteem and confidence. Humanities was all about art, and will be all about art. Through our lessons, I’ve learned that art is man-made and for which means made by human. Being human as it is humanities errs and isn’t perfect. Now I know why art seems so perfectly prefect for art viewers, it’s because within its imperfections you see its beauty and a promising improvement and revitalization. Humanities and Me sure has something in common.

What I had experienced, was not embarrassment in the first place, nor was it a humiliating situation. It was so, because I made to think it to be so. Right now, I only recognize it as a reassurance of my form of being human and imperfect. The troubles that had come passed and who still plans to pass by my side, I’ll really try to see it differently. The more troubles I will come across, the more chances and proofs I have to attest that I am indeed human. I see myself once as being unlucky all the time, always being the number one target and bull’s eye hit for unlucky-day archery tournament. Now, I see myself considerably opportune, learning from troubles and my mistakes would clearly define me as a person. As the cliché goes, “It doesn’t matter how many times you fell, but how many time you stood up from those falls.” I bid myself confident that through the infinite mistakes I had face and will be facing, I will continually learn from them and try not to mourn for such acts. I’ll always be the loser if I do so. Without considering the very reality of troubles and mistakes, one denies his true form of being human.

As I type along these words to make a portrait of words, I committed a lot of errors, but who gives a heck, these errors made me think of better words to harmonize to make this article worth reading.

Don’t fuss about mistakes. They are part of our being human. Fuss if you think you are not human. Okay?

Check Your Student I.D Number, is it a 9 or is it a 6?

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