NO MOMENT could replicate the excitement I felt when I received the email: “Congratulations, and welcome to the Biology family!” After studying to attain the grade requirements to shift, I felt relieved to be moving closer to the future I wanted. However, that moment of happiness did not prepare me for what came after: isolation, burnout, and doubt.
The decision to shift was not made lightly. My fears stemmed from the possibility of not graduating on time—a financial burden on my parents and an internal pressure to keep up with my peers. I consulted the Office of Placement and Career Services, the department, friends, family, and even a tarot reader in Zen Garden. Eventually, I found peace with my choice and believed it was right.
This confidence grew during my first classes in intersession. The motivation behind studying shifted as I became surrounded by knowledge and people who aligned with my interests and future career prospects. Shifting, however, meant a heavier workload and greater pressure to prove myself worthy of my spot.
When the regular semester began, shiftees were merged into regular blocks. While I had already found my footing as a freshman, shifting meant navigating a second round of introductions and skepticism. On paper, I was just a name added to a different degree program—but socially and academically, I was suddenly out of step.
Over time, certainty about my decision faded. I had moved closer to my dream, but at a draining cost.
To graduate on time, I overloaded semesters and filed multiple load revision requests. Beyond academics, adjusting socially was also challenging because friend groups were already formed. I rarely saw shiftees represented in wider Ateneo spaces, aside from anonymous Freedom Wall posts echoing my own sentiments.
I recall being part of a class where one professor required all shiftees to sit at the classroom’s center table. Although it was meant to be a learning avenue, the shame of that table never disappeared. A wrong answer didn’t just reflect on me; rather, it confirmed the quiet prejudice that I was a shiftee. Excelling felt like an exception, but stumbling felt expected, and that weight never left the table.
But, at that same table, I found people who shared the same experiences—that isolating space turned into my support system. We began stepping up in classes and events, creating our own representation, and the shared burden made the weight easier to carry.
At the end of the day, shifting remains a privilege. Not everyone has the opportunity to pursue a different track, to risk delays, or to take on additional units in the hope of finding a course that truly fits.
While I remain grateful for this opportunity, gratitude should not diminish the gaps that persist. There must be a greater call to strengthen the University’s systems for shiftees academically, socially, and institutionally.
Shiftees should not be left to navigate stigma and structural barriers on their own; rather, they should be met with an environment that recognizes their challenges and affirms their rightful place in the community.
Cielo is a Biology junior at the Ateneo de Manila University. Combining her passions in social justice and public healthcare, she hopes to advocate for more equitable healthcare delivery in the Philippines. She aspires to continue writing and telling stories within and beyond science.
Editor’s Note: The views and opinions expressed by the opinion writer do not necessarily state or reflect those of the publication.
