He Couldn’t Take the Exam: Gabriel Ortigoza | CPUCN Class 1991

Long before Gabriel Ortigoza earned his PhD, helped build international partnerships, or began teaching CPUCN students from thousands of miles away, he was a student from Mlang, Cotabato with a much more immediate problem.

He couldn't take his exam.

Not because he hadn't studied or wasn't ready. He didn't have a permit, and he didn't have the money to get one.

Gabriel's mother sent him a monthly allowance from Mlang while he studied at Central. It wasn't much, and sometimes it arrived late. Anyone who has survived college on an allowance knows there is regular mathematics. And then there is student-budget mathematics, where one small amount of money is somehow expected to cover tuition, school fees, food, transportation, and whatever unexpected expense life throws in for variety.

That month, the math didn't work. His allowance hadn't arrived, his school obligation remained unpaid, and without an examination permit, he couldn't take his major exam. Gabriel shared his predicament with his Filipino teacher, Ma'am Rabulan.

She could have reminded him of school policy. Instead, she told him not to be discouraged. Keep studying. Keep preparing. When the money comes, pay what you owe and take the examination.

What matters is that you are ready.

It was probably a brief conversation for Ma'am Rabulan. For Gabriel, it lasted a lifetime. His allowance eventually arrived, he paid his obligation, and he took the exam. But he never forgot what it felt like to be a student whose education was temporarily stopped by something as simple, and as consequential, as money.

Years later, when he was able to help, Gabriel proposed a student loan program at CPU for students facing similar financial hardship. The program didn't materialize, so he did something very Gabriel: he took the idea somewhere it could. He brought it to another school in his hometown, where it now helps students facing the same problem he once faced.

And he kept finding ways to make the road easier for those coming behind him. For five years, Gabriel personally sponsored CPU nursing scholars. Later, what he could give expanded beyond financial support to knowledge, experience, relationships, and access.

He helped bring advanced specialty nursing education to CPU and helped build an international partnership creating opportunities in education, research, healthcare, medical missions, and community outreach. From thousands of miles away, he continues to teach CPUCN students online.

There is something fitting about that. The student who once needed someone at Central to tell him, Keep going, eventually became one of the people teaching those coming after him. Different classroom, different generation, same Central.

People may look at Gabriel today and see the credentials, programs, and partnerships. But perhaps the more interesting question isn't how far he went. It is why he keeps coming back.

Once upon a time, Gabriel wasn't the alumnus opening doors. He was the student standing outside one, and someone believed he belonged on the other side. Maybe that's where legacy begins: a teacher says the right words, someone helps with tuition, a classmate shares notes, someone sees something in us we haven't yet learned to see in ourselves, or someone simply holds a door open.

Years later, we find ourselves holding it for somebody else.

Ma'am Rabulan may never have imagined how far a few encouraging words to one struggling student from Mlang would travel. That's the beautiful thing about the light we give away. We rarely get to see how far it goes.

Someone once held the light for Gabriel. He carried it.

And he keeps passing it on.