Mr Jecris D Nalual II

Class Valedictorian

 To our University President, Reverend Father Mars P Tan SJ

To our honorary guests,

Your Eminence, Cardinal Pablo Virgilio David, DD,

Ma’am Rosie Godwino Sula,

Reverend Fathers from the Order of Friars Minor, from the province of St Antonio de Padua.

To our Vice Presidents, Directors, Administrators, Program Heads, College Deans, members of the faculty and staff, our proud parents and families, distinguished guests, and my fellow graduands of the Class of 2026:

Good morning.

We often think of graduation as an ending:

The last walk through familiar hallways;
The final hurried submissions at 11:59;
And the last time we sit beside classmates who, over the years, became family.

But graduation is not merely about endings. It is about carrying things forward. Because whether we realize it or not, we leave this university carrying pieces of everyone who once walked beside us: every conversation, every lesson, every act of kindness, and every person who helped shape us into who we are today.

We are, in many ways, an assemblage of all the people we have met.

A part of us comes from the people who believed in us even when we struggled to believe in ourselves.

A part of us comes from professors who challenged us to think more deeply and see more clearly.

And a part of us comes from families who sacrificed more than we may ever fully know.

No one becomes who they are alone.

As an engineering student, I once believed success meant earning high grades, solving the hardest equations, or bringing home awards.

But one of the moments that changed me most did not happen in a competition or a ceremony, but inside a classroom after regular school hours.

A group of my freshmen peers attended our Calculus tutorial program. Many of them were struggling, and some had already begun to question whether engineering was for them.

Week after week, we sat together solving derivatives, limits, and problems that seemed impossible at first glance, but students still chose to show up, despite their doubts, with tutors willing to stay, a little longer to help.

By the end of the program, 31 students passed the course, a 78% passing rate.

Yet what stayed with me was not the number, it was hearing a student say, "Ahh, ing anaon ra diay." It was watching faces once filled with frustration, slowly brighten with relief. It was seeing someone who once considered giving up had decided to keep going.

Through that experience, I learned something important:

The most meaningful impact we create is often invisible.

Not every success appears on a transcript.
Not every achievement receives applause.
Sometimes success looks like helping someone believe in themselves again.

St. Ignatius reminds us in the First Principle and Foundation that everything we have is a gift. Our talents, our knowledge, our opportunities, these were entrusted to us not to be kept for ourselves, but to help us love, serve, and glorify God through the way we live our lives.

And perhaps that is what I learned through those tutorials: that education finds its deepest meaning when it is shared.

Once you realize that, you begin to see it everywhere. In the aspiring scholars who participate in Project MUGNA to prepare for scholarship examinations; and in fellow engineering students who look up to mentors for calculus tutorial programs.

Because the education we received here was never meant to end with us.

It asks us not merely to succeed, but to serve.
Not merely to achieve, but to uplift.
Not merely to chase ambition, but to use whatever gifts we have to leave the world gentler than we found it.

What good is education if it remains locked within ourselves? What good is brilliance if it does not illuminate the lives of others? What good are formulas we memorize and theories we master if they never find their way into the lives of the people around us?

There is a quote by Marianne Williamson that says:

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.
Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.”

And perhaps that resonates with many of us today.

Because stepping into the future is both exciting and frightening, not because we doubt our abilities, but because, we are beginning to realize the weight of what we are capable of becoming. Our choices matter. Our words matter. Our actions ripple outward into the lives of other people.

Because Xavier Ateneo was never merely preparing us for our careers…

…it was preparing us to become men and women for others.

And in a world that often rewards indifference, that calling matters now more than ever.

We are entering a world that is tired. A world where communities continue to face disasters, where people struggle to access opportunities, where environmental problems grow more urgent, and where it is often easier to scroll past someone's pain than to stop and respond.

We have been reminded of this reality all too painfully in the recent days.

As one Ateneo community, we place in our hearts and grieve the tragic loss of Rene Clert Baterbonia and Divine Adili, two young lives filled with dreams and possibilities that ended far too soon.

Before we continue, may I ask everyone for a moment of silence as we honor the memory of Rene and Divine.

Thank you.

Their passing reminds us that behind every title and every achievement is something infinitely more precious: our shared humanity. To mourn is not only to offer our condolences, but to ensure that accountability and care remain at the center of our institutions.

May we honor Rene and Divine not only through our prayers, but also by caring for one another a little more deeply.

Because sometimes, we underestimate how deeply we can affect others.

A simple act of kindness can become someone’s reason to keep going.
A teacher’s encouragement can alter the course of a student’s life.
A friend, sitting beside us in silence can make tough subjects feel survivable.

We stand here today because someone woke up earlier so we could have breakfast before class, transferred money when expenses piled up, or reminded us to keep going after receiving disappointing results.

Today is not only the culmination of years of hard work, sleepless nights, and countless exams. It is the culmination of countless sacrifices and quiet acts of support made by people who cared for us, believed in us long before we believed in ourselves.

Because, again, no one becomes who they are alone.

Our diploma may carry our names, but it was never earned alone.

To my mama, for the ordinary things that often go unnoticed: sa pagplantsa sa akong uniform, sa pagluto ug pamahaw, ug sa pag-andam sa akong balon kada buntag.

To my papa, for showing love in ways words often could not: sa paghatod ug pagsundo kung kinahanglan, ug sa pagpangita og pamaagi aron dili mi makulangan

To my family, my siblings, my Nanay, my Lolo and Lola, my titas and titos, my Tita Mayang, and my girlfriend, Pring, for becoming my first community of support.

To our professors, class instructors, formators, and university staff, for believing in our potential, and for patiently guiding us.

To my college buddies, Rob, Luis, and Mav, for the constant reminder that I never had to go through engineering alone.

To the friends I met along the way: the promdis, my fellow scholars, org mates, and the many people whose paths crossed with mine.

And finally, to the Almighty God, for every opportunity, every gift, every person, and every blessing that brought me to this moment. Thank You.

So as we leave these halls, may we carry forward not only the excellence this university taught us, but also its humanity.

May we become people who use our voices to comfort, not wound.
People who use knowledge not to intimidate, but to empower.
People who remain grounded enough to remember where we came from, yet brave enough to imagine what the world could still become.

And when the applause fades, when the ceremonies end, when the pictures are tucked away into old albums, I hope we remember this:

The true measure of our lives will never simply be found in how much we accomplished, but in how deeply we loved, how sincerely we served, and how courageously we chose to become that fire for others.

The greatest legacy we inherit, is not excellence alone, but the responsibility, to use our excellence, in service of others.

Congratulations, Class of 2026!

Ad Majorem Dei Gloriam!

* * * *  Access the full speech here * * * *