"What defines you is not your title, but your ability to lead, to serve, and to love with integrity." (AJHS Class of 2025 Commencement Speech)

This was the speech delivered by Dr Carlos Emmanoel M Chua (GS ’91, HS ’95, BS Biology '99), Pediatric Opthalmologist at St Luke's Medical Center, during the commencement exercises for the Junior High School Class of 2025 on 22 May 2025. 

Magandang umaga sa inyong lahat. 

As someone who has walked these same halls from Prep through College, it is always a blessing to return home. I never thought I’d be speaking at an event like this; fate often favored my batchmate, now-Senator Bam Aquino. Kidding aside, I am genuinely proud to be his batchmate. I truly admire how he has lived out the values of our Ignatian education with integrity, purpose, and service. He is a reminder to us all that being an Atenean is not just about achievement, but about the kind of person you choose to become.

Today, my dearest son and to all other Grade 10 completers, you stand at a powerful threshold—between Junior High School and Senior High School, between formation and deeper discernment. I don’t stand here as a speaker. I stand here as a parent—full of pride, full of wonder, and, honestly, a little overwhelmed. Because how do you explain the feeling of watching your child grow from wide-eyed grade schoolers into young people who are thoughtful, brave, and already leaving their mark?

As parents we saw how your journey was far from typical. Grade 7 began not in a classroom, but through a screen. The world was locked down, and so were you. You raised digital hands and formed friendships through breakout rooms. But you didn’t just adjust- you grew. You developed a quiet resilience that will serve you for the rest of your lives.

In Grade 8, you slowly returned to campus and relearned how to be with each other. You journeyed to Salikneta Farm, participated in KFD with heart and creativity, and deepened your faith through Confirmation. This was a year of rediscovery — for you, and for us. 

By Grade 9, the world had reopened, and your lives resumed in full. You taught children through CSIP, forged memories at Mount Purro with your fathers, and embraced KFD with a deepening sense of purpose. You laughed louder, stood taller, and grew into yourselves.

And now, in Grade 10, you’ve lived some of the most transformative moments of your young lives. Through immersion in Boso-Boso, you stepped into simplicity, fetching water, cooking meals, and witnessing the strength of community. You paused in silence during retreat, reflected deeply, and found God in the stillness. Your final KFD and "Gabi Na-10" marked not just an end, but a celebration of the path you’ve taken together.

You are no longer the quiet boys behind the screens. You are young men with stronger voices, broader shoulders, and deeper hearts. You’ve grown not just in stature, but in spirit—in perseverance, in faith, and in compassion.

Let me be clear: your true achievement is not your grades, but your growth. And this growth matters. Because life beyond the Ateneo will test you—in ways we cannot predict. It will stretch you in character and in courage. But the foundation you now stand on is strong.

An Ateneo education does not end at completion. It continues, deep within. You’ve learned to think not only critically, but compassionately. To seek not just excellence, but purpose. To be, above all, men for others.

And that is what will matter. Whether you become a doctor, like I did; a senator, an artist, an engineer, a lawyer, or an entrepreneur- what defines you is not your title, but your ability to lead, to serve, and to love with integrity.

I stand before you today not just as an ophthalmologist, but as someone whose journey began in the same classrooms and corridors you now walk. My work is about preserving sight — but more than that, it’s about protecting possibility, and keeping dreams alive.

High school was more than just a series of subjects and exams — it was where I first learned the importance of vision, even beyond the classroom. In the same corridors you walk today, I discovered the value of perseverance, the strength found in friendships, and the quiet moments of clarity that shaped my path. The Ateneo was not just an institution; it was a second home, a place where I first understood what it meant to serve, to lead, and to dream beyond myself. The lessons I learned in those formative years—both inside and outside the classroom—became the foundation upon which I built my career and my commitment to others. 

As an eye doctor, I’ve seen how losing one’s vision—literally—can dim a child’s future. A student who struggles to read, an artist who can no longer see color, a dreamer whose world fades to blur. Restoring sight is more than a medical task—it’s giving someone their life back. Their dreams. Their hope.

And when I think about it, the Ateneo did the same for me. It helped me see— not just the world, but myself. It taught me to look beyond success and toward meaning. Beyond ambition and toward purpose.

What I carry with me every day—from the clinic to the operating room—is what I learned here: to serve quietly, to love deeply, to give more than is expected. To choose what is right, even when it’s hard.

And my hope for each of you is this: that your years in the Ateneo have opened your eyes— not just to knowledge, but to compassion. Not just to achievement, but to becoming a person for others. I hope that deep inside, something has already begun to change—something that will guide you through the noise of the world.

Because in the end, it’s not about titles or accomplishments. It’s about seeing clearly who you are, and using that clarity to make the world brighter—not just for yourself, but for others.

That is what the Ateneo gives you: a kind of vision. Not just of the world as it is, but of what it could be. Your teachers, mentors, and Jesuit fathers have formed you not just to succeed, but to see with clarity, to discern wisely, and to act justly. In a noisy world full of distractions, this clarity—this vision—is your compass.

And as you step into the world beyond these walls, remember that vision is not just about what you see— it’s about what you choose to focus on. The world will try to blur that focus with distractions, doubts, and challenges, but hold on to the clarity you have gained here. Let it guide your decisions, shape your character, and illuminate the path ahead. 

As a song written nearly 45 years ago still reminds us today:

“Bumaba ka sa bundok, at ika’y makibahagi; bumaba ka sa bundok at hanapin ang iyong sarili.”

Come down from the mountain. Be present in the world. Find yourself in service and in solidarity.

I hope your own transformation has begun: that spark of intellectual curiosity, that voice of conscience, that desire to serve. I pray you hold tight to the Ignatian ideal of being a man for others, because in a world of false promises, this is what will keep you good. And goodness—true goodness—is the most important thing you can become.

As parents, we’re not just proud of your accomplishments. We’re proud of who you’re becoming: kind, curious, capable young people ready to take on the next chapter.

As you move on to Senior High and beyond, let your light shine. Not only for yourself, but for those whose paths are still in darkness. Carry with you magis— the call to always seek what is more and what is better— not for your own glory, but for the greater glory of God.

And always remember: you are not alone. You are part of a community that spans generations—Ateneans who have gone before you, and those who walk beside you now. Be proud of your roots. Stand tall in your blue. And rise with purpose into the future. 

Once again, Congratulations, Grade 10 completers. May your journey ahead be guided by wisdom, courage, and a heart that chooses to love and to serve. 

Ad majorem Dei gloriam.

Maraming salamat sa inyong lahat.