I've always wanted to be like the girls in movies with strong feminine energy—ones who ace all their classes, confidently pursue their dreams, and embody the perfect mix of brains and ambition. Watching them has always filled me with pride and inspired me to dedicate my life to academics.

Add to that the countless vlogs I've watched about university life, where everything seems almost like the perfect student experience. It made me feel excited to go to school, believing I could live that dream—where success comes easily and love follows it. But I can’t help but wonder: When we chase success, do we pursue excellence for ourselves, or is it more about the comfort of being noticed and valued?

In my case, the pursuit of excellence is driven by both personal ambition and the desire for external validation. The challenge arises when that validation begins to outweigh the intrinsic satisfaction of doing well, gradually becoming the main reason I strive to perform great in classrooms.

Growing up, I was conditioned to believe that in order to fit in and make others proud, I had to excel at everything I did. Achieving the highest reward—whether it's a trophy, medal, or title—creates an unspoken expectation. People start to look for more, and this builds up pressure where I no longer do it for myself but for others, even more so when I was young. The weight of those expectations can define me, long before I have the chance to define myself.

Studying often feels like the only thing that matters. The pressure intensifies because it’s the only expectation placed on me. Especially when it’s the only thing I devote my time to—no sports, hobbies, or other talents. So when the time comes and I don’t get the expected grades and disappoint the people around me, where else can I find the love and acceptance I crave?

When success becomes a duty

(Screenshot from Legally Blonde (2001))

It’s quite universal in every Filipino household to identify academic success as a free pass for respect and social validation. Family gatherings often become a competition of who’s studying the hardest or achieving the highest awards. Those who pursue high-demand careers or achieve top grades are often praised and celebrated, while others may be overlooked.

This mindset is further reinforced by the concept of utang na loob, the deep-seated belief that we must repay our parents for their sacrifices. From a young age, I was told that the best way to show gratitude is to study hard and succeed. While this may seem like a noble motivation, it creates a constant, unspoken pressure to keep succeeding, just to earn affection and approval.

Sometimes, it isn’t even about approval anymore. In our country where many families struggle financially, education is often seen as the best path to have a better life. As children, we are expected to be that path—to be the way out. And so, whether out of utang na loob, love, or responsibility, we push ourselves, not just for our own future but for theirs.

This pressure shapes the way students view success. In many ways, students push themselves to study hard, believing that academic success will earn them the validation they seek—the love and affection from family and peers, along with the self-worth that comes with it.

While academic success can bring pride and fulfillment, how do we really know who we are outside the accomplishments we build for others? And when we don’t perform as expected, where do the respect and acceptance go?

Academic validation, in a sense, becomes a way to feel like we belong and are seen. Instead of being a source of motivation, it often leads us to question whether the love and recognition we receive are truly ours or just tied to what we achieve.

Emotional cost of excellence

(Screenshot from Gossip Girl)

Excellence, while fulfilling when acknowledged, often comes with an emotional price.

In high school, I would stay up late preparing reports for class and rehearsing for dance competitions. In senior high, I juggled organizing events, managing an entrepreneurship bazaar, and completing numerous other performance tasks in a week. Now, in college, I face at least five new reading materials each week, along with a host of other responsibilities. It feels like there’s never enough time to rest or simply breathe, especially when everything demands my attention all at once.

Imagine having to deal with all that while also carrying the pressure of needing to be perfect, constantly fearing that my family will be disappointed if I don’t succeed.

In pursuit of academic validation, the pressure to constantly perform at a high level becomes overwhelming. This relentless demand can severely impact a student’s mental health, leading to a cycle of stress and burnout. As the pressure mounts, it affects one’s well-being and ultimately, their ability to perform academically.

The desire to maintain my standing often pushes me to go beyond my limits, sacrificing self-care and rest. I turn to caffeinated drinks and all-nighters to keep going, with a hope that success can only be achieved through constant work. But in the process, I not only become mentally drained but also physically exhausted. While excellence may lead to success, the emotional toll actually wears me down long before I ever achieve it.

Love beyond the achievements

(Screenshot from Gilmore Girls)

I once heard a valedictory speech where the speaker urged us to have no regrets “at the 16th second.” He shared how he felt nothing after receiving the award he had longed for because it cost him his relationships and the experiences that truly mattered.

We strive to have no regrets—no regrets about every achievement we reach, every late night of studying, and every line-of-nine grade we earn; and equally, no regrets about taking time to meet friends during the week, giving ourselves the rest we deserve instead of relying on five cups of coffee, and allowing ourselves to fail and learn one step at a time.

The weight of countless medals that were once symbols of pride can start to feel like a heavy, choking burden—one that reminds us of the constant pressure to prove our worth, to be accepted, and to be loved. But true affection and love should not depend on whether we’re at the top of the class. It should be grounded in accepting our own capacity to do as much as we can in life. The love we receive should not be tied to our accomplishments, but simply because we are who we are, without compromising our well-being.

In this sense, healthy recognition of a student's academic performance can serve as a strong motivator, helping to build confidence, self-esteem, and a positive mindset. While such recognition can inspire, it should never overshadow the truth that love and acceptance come from who we are, not just from our achievements.

Academic validation should be a stepping stone for growth, not a price for love. And true love must not be earned through achievements; it should be unconditional, given freely for who we are, not what we do.