Luthgarda Macaraig STEM 11-1

“Ambitions”

“I want to be a doctor. I want to be an engineer. I want to be an engineer. I want to be a lawyer. I want to

“I want to be a doctor,” the little girl said, rather the six adults in her head demanded. Her grandmother,
Mommyla; her grandfather, Papalo; her other grandmother, Mamita; her other grandfather, Lololito; her
mother, Mommy Jai; her father, Daddy LJ—all voices of authority, whispering, insisting. I want to be a
doctor. You want to be a doctor.

In the Philippines, respect is a core value, especially respect toward elders —our parents, our
grandparents, and other guardians. his respect, known as paggalang, is both cultural and deeply
ingrained, often rooted in Filipino traditions like utang na loob, the debt of gratitude. But respect has
different meanings. For some, it means being treated with humanity, being treated like a human being;
for others, it means unquestioning authority. Too often, those who demand respect in the name of
authority say, “I won’t respect you if you don’t respect me,” but what they truly mean is, “I won’t treat
you as a human being if you don’t treat me as an authority.” And the funny thing is, they think they’re
being fair.

These “they” I am talking about are our guardians, teachers, mentors—the sculptors of the future, our
future. Yet, within the culture that holds respect so high, the culture that demands respect, even in cases
where respect is not deserved, it often shelters abuse. “Don’t bite the hand that feeds you” they say. But
tell me, how do you respect a hand that strikes you. The hand that bruises our body? The hand that
inflicts intentional, intense pain. This imbalance of power, particularly within families, has normalized the
idea that parents decide their children’s futures. Imagine giving birth to a life and saying, “Ah, this one
will be a doctor.” It’s normalized, almost expected, for parents to decide their child’s lifelong path.

There is a pervasive belief in the Philippines that we owe our parents for raising us, for feeding us, for
caring for us, for loving us. But how great a debt do we owe for basic necessities ? Was it not their
conscious decision to bring us into the world? And so, is it truly fair to present this care as a favor? “You
should be grateful we feed you, take you to school, and care for you,” they say. Ahh yes, I’m sorry for
having such abnormal unattainable necessities, thank you so much for treating me like a human being.
And yet, am I being treated like a human? Caged in a prison of academic torment, with your own blood
as the ring leaders lashing you for each mistake. It is much like a circus no? It is a joke. An unfunny joke.
An unfunny reality a lot of children live in. An unfunny reality I live in.

In families of many cultures, children may be regarded as “retirement plans,” but in the Philippines, this
idea becomes part of the cultural framework, a duty that many children are born [Link] effects of
intense pressure on Filipino children are profound and widespread. According to data from the National
Center for Mental Health in the Philippines, youth mental health issues are on the rise, especially among
those facing constant academic and familial expectations. Studies reveal that children under pressure to
meet parental or societal goals experience higher rates of anxiety, depression, and low self-esteem.
Luthgarda Macaraig STEM 11-1

Children who are constantly pressured to meet high expectations live in a world where perfection is
demanded but never recognized; their hard work often goes unnoticed, only to be replaced by new
expectations. Burdened by responsibility and unmet personal dreams, many grow up feeling
inadequate, losing interest in activities that once brought them joy. The simple act of setting aside their
desires and creativity often leads to burnout before they even reach adulthood.

Is this really the life we want for our children? Shouldn’t each child have the chance to discover and
pursue what brings them true fulfillment, even if that’s outside the so-called “secure” fields? For some,
the joy of creating, of expressing themselves through art, writing, performance, or music, brings more
meaning than any other field ever could. Yet these paths are often undervalued in Filipino culture,
where careers in the arts are viewed as impractical or unworthy, “pangbulok”. The real “practical”
choice is to support our children in finding what truly makes them happy, regardless of whether it’s in
STEM or on a stage, honoring their individuality.

Yet in our homes, this respect for individuality can be overshadowed by expectations passed down
through generations. The weight of fulfilling family ambitions is an obligation we must bear. This debt I
owe my grandparents and parents becomes their reason to demand such things of me. “Ding naglisod
baja ta, kailangan jud maningkamot ka, kinsa may mualaga namo inig tiguwang na mi?” “Gibijaan na
baja kas imong ginikanan so dapat maningkamot ka ha?” “Di diay ka ganahan malipay si Papalo?” So the
truth does come out from such a vicious mouth. I am a retirement [Link] purpose in life, it seems, is to
prove my worth to those who brought me into this world. It is my purpose in life to make my
grandparents happy for the sick revenge plan they have. To prove to my parents that they shouldn't
have left me. I was unaware a child had to prove that. And so, through the six years of my elementary
school life, I studied tirelessly, staying at the top of my class, finishing with Highest Honors. How eagerly
I went home, hoping to see the smiles of pride on their faces. “I’m proud of you”—words I had longed to
hear but never did, not even on that day.

This issue, at its heart, is a battle between generational dreams and individual aspirations. When
children are raised to believe their future is owed to others, the result is often burnout, anxiety, and a
sense of loss for a life they never truly chose. To parents, grandparents, and guardians: thank you for
raising us, for loving us, for taking care of us. But please understand, we do not owe you for these
things. Parenting, after all, is a choice—a gift that does not bind us with debt. Today, I am clearly burned
out. I no longer care for grades; the pressure has wrung every ounce of motivation from me. I am
exhausted. The pedestal of “number one” is no longer a place I seek. If I climb that high again, the
anxiety of the fall might just destroy me. And so, I leave you with this thought: “Children are not vessels
to fill but fires to ignite.”

What do you want to be when you grow up?

I want to be a d-…. An artist. I want to be an artist.