Like the Sierra Madre defying the storms that lash Luzon, the spinal cord that lets the body rise after every fall, and the pen that dares to write the truth, campus journalism coaches stand as the steadfast backbone of every newsroom. They are the unseen strength behind every fearless line, the quiet guardians who turn hesitant scribbles into voices that move the world.
Rooted in the Campus Journalism Act of 1991 (Republic Act No. 7079), their mission goes beyond teaching leads and headlines—they are the heart that keeps the newsroom alive, the gentle push that transforms fear into confidence. At the 2025 National Schools Press Conference in Ilocos Sur, over 5,000 campus journalists carried their dreams on paper—and behind each one stood a coach who believed in those dreams long before anyone else did.
They’re there in every moment that counts—standing with you under the heat of the sun during the opening program, handing you snacks when your stomach grumbles between lectures, whispering “kaya mo ’yan!” before you face your category’s most nerve-wracking moment. Long before medals and recognition, they’ve already given something greater—the belief that you could do it.
AWAKENING OF THE SLEEPING GIANT
The Sierra Madre stands tall and silent, guarding Luzon from the fiercest storms. It doesn’t seek glory; it simply shields, endures, and stands its ground. Much like this mountain range, our coaches have been the first line of our defense—protecting us from discouragement, exhaustion, and self-doubt.
Through their faith, they awaken the sleeping giant within us—the courage we never thought we had. With every revise and every piece of advice, they remind us that we are capable, that our words hold power, and that no storm can silence a heart that dares to speak.
HEARING THE SILENT ROARS
The spinal cord may be unseen, yet it keeps the entire body upright and moving. Without it, everything falls apart. Just like that, our coaches work quietly behind the scenes—connecting, supporting, holding us together when pressure and panic begin to creep in.
And when the contest day arrives, our pens roar silently because of them. Every stroke of ink carries their lessons, their patience, and their belief in us. The story may bear our name, but the strength that shaped it is theirs.
REIGN THROUGH THE RAINS
Through victories and heartbreaks, our coaches remain—the first to celebrate our wins, the first to comfort our losses. They’ve seen us doubt ourselves, break down, and get back up again. They’ve been there in both the sunshine of triumph and the downpour of defeat, reminding us that learning never ends.
And now, we stand taller. The students who once trembled before deadlines now write with courage. The pens that once shook with fear now move with conviction. Because of them, we’ve learned to reign even through the rains—to face challenges with resilience and to carry their lessons wherever we go.
They have stood like the Sierra Madre—unyielding against the storms that test our strength. They have been the spinal cord—keeping us upright when exhaustion weighs us down. And through every rewrite and every sleepless night, they handed us the pen—not just to write, but to believe in what we write for.
Now, as another DSPC season arrives, let us keep in mind who are the true spines of our pens—the silent forces who held us steady until we learned to stand on our own. For even when the noise of competition fades, their strength remains, quietly inked between every line we’ve ever written.
Rooted in the Campus Journalism Act of 1991 (Republic Act No. 7079), their mission goes beyond teaching leads and headlines—they are the heart that keeps the newsroom alive, the gentle push that transforms fear into confidence. At the 2025 National Schools Press Conference in Ilocos Sur, over 5,000 campus journalists carried their dreams on paper—and behind each one stood a coach who believed in those dreams long before anyone else did.
They’re there in every moment that counts—standing with you under the heat of the sun during the opening program, handing you snacks when your stomach grumbles between lectures, whispering “kaya mo ’yan!” before you face your category’s most nerve-wracking moment. Long before medals and recognition, they’ve already given something greater—the belief that you could do it.
AWAKENING OF THE SLEEPING GIANT
The Sierra Madre stands tall and silent, guarding Luzon from the fiercest storms. It doesn’t seek glory; it simply shields, endures, and stands its ground. Much like this mountain range, our coaches have been the first line of our defense—protecting us from discouragement, exhaustion, and self-doubt.
Through their faith, they awaken the sleeping giant within us—the courage we never thought we had. With every revise and every piece of advice, they remind us that we are capable, that our words hold power, and that no storm can silence a heart that dares to speak.
HEARING THE SILENT ROARS
The spinal cord may be unseen, yet it keeps the entire body upright and moving. Without it, everything falls apart. Just like that, our coaches work quietly behind the scenes—connecting, supporting, holding us together when pressure and panic begin to creep in.
And when the contest day arrives, our pens roar silently because of them. Every stroke of ink carries their lessons, their patience, and their belief in us. The story may bear our name, but the strength that shaped it is theirs.
REIGN THROUGH THE RAINS
Through victories and heartbreaks, our coaches remain—the first to celebrate our wins, the first to comfort our losses. They’ve seen us doubt ourselves, break down, and get back up again. They’ve been there in both the sunshine of triumph and the downpour of defeat, reminding us that learning never ends.
And now, we stand taller. The students who once trembled before deadlines now write with courage. The pens that once shook with fear now move with conviction. Because of them, we’ve learned to reign even through the rains—to face challenges with resilience and to carry their lessons wherever we go.
They have stood like the Sierra Madre—unyielding against the storms that test our strength. They have been the spinal cord—keeping us upright when exhaustion weighs us down. And through every rewrite and every sleepless night, they handed us the pen—not just to write, but to believe in what we write for.
Now, as another DSPC season arrives, let us keep in mind who are the true spines of our pens—the silent forces who held us steady until we learned to stand on our own. For even when the noise of competition fades, their strength remains, quietly inked between every line we’ve ever written.
J
Written by Jossa Yvonne Z. Bolivar, Insight PH
Jossa Yvonne Z. Bolivar, Insight PH is a dedicated campus journalist and contributor. Their insightful writing sparks meaningful conversations and keeps the community informed.
