Barotac Nuevo, Iloilo — While others count miles by speedometer, Regina Tumolin-Planto measures hers in sacrifices. A 43-year-old mother of seven from Sitio Pabulayan, Brgy. Managupaya, Banate, she walks an hour over landslide-prone terrain just to reach the first tricycle headed toward her dreams. What follows is a 30-minute ride to Banate town proper, then another 38-minute Ceres bus trip to Iloilo State University of Fisheries Science and Technology (ISUFST). And yet, when she finally enters the gates of ISUFST Main Campus, she carries herself with quiet grace—like someone who never had to sweat it out, her hair tied back neatly, her smile unwavering, her tote filled not just with notebooks but years of hope finally scribbled into goals.
Regina is part of ISUFST’s 2025 graduating class—an academic milestone she shares with classmates half her age. At first glance, she blends in like any other education student, except she is called “Mommy” or “Manang” by peers. Her grit, however, stands out. Before ISUFST, she started her college journey at Janiuay Polytechnic College, now WVSU-Janiuay. She took up Education with a major in Home Economics but had to drop out because no one could help shoulder her tuition, daily transportation, and other basics in school. Instead, she worked as a house help and later as a daycare teacher before getting married in 2004. Yet, even then, the dream to wear a toga never left.
In the middle of the pandemic, she found herself outside the gate of the Iloilo State College of Fisheries or ISCOF (now ISUFST). She whispered a prayer—“If this is really for me, Lord, make it easy.” It was. Her husband Joevanie, a habal-habal driver and barangay tanod, helped her process the papers. Everything fell into place. She took it as a sign and enrolled in the Bachelor of Elementary Education program. Her first choice was social work, but teaching children, she later realized, was the calling that had been quietly waiting.
Studying at ISUFST did not come without its share of chaos. Regina was not just a student. She was a mother to seven: Jerene, a Dean’s Lister in BEED; Jaztine, a first-year Religious Education student at Doanne Baptist Bible Institute; Joy, a Grade 11 student; and four younger children (Jee Ann, Jero, Jimz, and Jana) enrolled in different levels of basic education. While classmates were catching up on Netflix, she was catching up on family chores, laundry and talipapa runs. She sold dried fish, offered mani-pedi services, did salon work, and tutored kids just to contribute to household expenses and pay for academic requirements. During the pandemic, with online classes in full swing, she climbed uphill and down to relatives’ houses just to get a decent Wi-Fi signal.
There were tough days. Post-pandemic adjustments stirred minor misunderstandings with her other half. “You focus on supporting the kids, I’ll handle my school expenses,” she once said. That line became their household mantra. She would hustle, and hustle hard. Every test paper, every feasibility study, every academic requirement was paved with stories of dried fish sold, nails polished, and rice measured sparingly. But what she lacked in time and resources, she made up for in sheer tenacity and unshakable grace.
Her children are her quiet strength. “We made do with what we had,” she said. Despite the tight finances, her three eldest kids are consistent honor students. They understood. They never questioned why some days had less food or why their mother was too tired to join family binge-watching via cellphone time. They understood that their mother was building something—for them.
At ISUFST, Regina found a second home. She never felt judged for being older. “People are respectful. My age may show, but maybe so does the wisdom,” she quipped. The university’s inclusion of Equity Target Groups (ETG) was not lip service. It was tangible. She experienced first-hand how ISUFST’s mission to “teach minds, touch hearts, and transform lives” was not just framed on a hallway wall but lived out—in gestures of support, in inclusive spaces, and in the grace extended to learners of all walks. Free tuition helped a lot. But what helped deeper was an environment that made room for her reality.
President Dr. Nordy Siason, Jr. reflects, “Stories like Regina’s remind us why ISUFST exists—not just to produce degrees, but to change lives. It is a university where progress is measured not by prestige alone, but by the people it uplifts.” This aligns with ISUFST’s guiding principles—Integrity, Social Justice, Discipline, and Academic Excellence—which Regina embodies quietly but fiercely.
She was a Dean’s Lister in her second year. “I’m not the best in class,” she admits, “but I try.” Her learning style was not cramming, but commitment. She sits in front row during seminars, listens intently, and asks when confused. “I always believed that learning is not about speed, but about depth.” Her voice does not preach; it reassures.
Regina has no illusions of grandeur. After graduation, she plans to work while preparing for the Licensure Examination for Teachers. A job at a private school or a role under DSWD appeals to her practical sensibilities. As a 4Ps grantee, her heart is with the underserved. She has lived the statistics, and she hopes to change them from within. “My proudest moment will be when I can finally say: I have work. I am helping.”
To mothers who feel behind, Regina says it plainly, “It is not too late. This is not a race.” Her advice is not drawn from books but from experience—seasoned with humility, wrapped in grace. She encourages young ISUFST students not to rush the process. “Savor the learning. The diploma is not just a goal—it is proof that you chose not to give up.”
On Thursday, June 5, as she walks across the stage at Tamasak Arena, Barotac Nuevo, wearing her dress and toga, there will be no orchestras or fireworks. Just a quiet woman from Sitio Pabulayan who walked literal mountains and hills—with grace and grit—to become a teacher. She will be greeted not just by applause, but by seven proud children and a husband who has always been at the finish line, waiting.
And that is more than enough.
(Herman Lagon, Jose Eugene Salazar, and Joana Paula Biñas/PAMMCO)
