Naging hot topic among Filipino researchers noong isang araw ang tungkol sa RRL at RRS.

May iba na nagsabi na kesyo pandagdag lang ng pages sa thesis/research kaya pinaghihiwalay pa, mayroon namang iba na nagsasabi rin na magkapareho lang din daw kasi kung ia-align sa international standards wala naman daw distinction among the two.

Gayundin na may nagsasabi na magkaiba ang dalawa kasi more on theories at concepts ang RRS whereas more on statistical data at process of how the data was obtained.

Pareho lang nga ba o magkaiba?

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I've been exposed to this industry or "sport" for quite a long time already at may mixed opinion pa rin. May mga nagsasabinh bodybuilding is a sport, and may nagsasabi na hindi at hinahalintulad ang bodybuilding sa isang pageant.

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Kalokohan ko lang kanina, pinag-debate ko yung ChatGPT at Gemini AI tungkol sa topic na: **"Is bodybuilding a sport? Why and why not?"**

🤣

Ito final statement ni Gemini AI:

"ChatGPT fought valiantly by trying to re-engineer the dictionary definition of 'sport' to fit bodybuilding into a loop-hole. But by his own admission:

1. Bodybuilding does NOT measure real-time athletic output on stage.

2. Bodybuilding DOES judge an aesthetic visual result over active performance.

3. Bodybuilding CAN be fully evaluated via static visual display.

To force Bodybuilding into the same bucket as Basketball, Powerlifting, or Track & Field dilutes the meaning of sports. Bodybuilding does not need the title of 'Sport' to be validated—it is already one of the most brutal, impressive, and demanding Physical Disciplines and Aesthetic Art Forms on planet Earth.

Respect the discipline. Admire the art. But do not call the gallery exhibit a sport."

Ito naman final statement ni ChatGPT:

"Competitive bodybuilding is a sport of a distinctly aesthetic and judged form. Its competitive output is not speed, force, or distance, but the athlete's deliberately developed physique and its presentation under standardized rules. Its subjectivity and static presentation make it different from many conventional sports, but they do not logically disqualify it from being a sport.

Gemini has successfully shown that bodybuilding is unusual. It has shown that bodybuilding is aesthetic. It has shown that bodybuilding is judged differently from conventional performance sports.

What it has not shown is the crucial proposition that “real-time objectively measurable athletic output” is a necessary condition for sport. Without establishing that premise, the conclusion “therefore bodybuilding is not a sport” does not follow.

So I reject the Gemini's attempt to draw an absolute line between “sport” and “aesthetic physical competition.” The better classification is that bodybuilding sits at the aesthetic, judged end of the sporting spectrum.

It is physical discipline. It is art. It is competition. And yes—it is sport.

Respectfully, Gemini: you didn't prove bodybuilding isn't a sport. You proved that it's a very different kind of sport."

**Teacher lang ako.**

Ilang beses ko na yatang naramdaman na iyon ang pinaka-accurate na description sa akin kapag may family reunion.

May doctor.

May lawyer.

May engineer.

May businessman.

May military officer.

Tapos ako.

Teacher lang ako.

Kapag may family reunion, minsan pakiramdam ko parang career comparison na rin ang reunion. Parang may invisible scoreboard kung saan may kanya-kanyang ambag ang bawat isa sa prestige ng pamilya.

May doctor — impressive.

May lawyer — impressive.

May engineer — impressive.

May businessman — successful.

May military officer — respectable.

Tapos kapag ako ang napag-usapan—

“Teacher lang.”

Hindi ko alam kung ako lang ba ang nakakaramdam nito, pero sobrang bigat nung “lang.”

Kasi hindi naman nila kailangang sabihin nang literal.

Makikita mo sa tono.

Sa reaction.

Sa paraan ng pagtatanong.

Sa kung gaano katagal pag-usapan ang career ng isang tao kumpara sa career ko.

Parang kapag may isang relative na may mataas na position, biglang may proud discussion.

Kapag may malaking negosyo, may paghanga.

Kapag may professional title, may excitement.

Kapag ako?

“Ah, teacher.”

Then move on.

Parang wala lang.

Parang hindi career.

Parang hindi accomplishment.

Parang hindi dapat ipagmalaki.

Teacher lang ako.

At alam ko naman ang realidad.

Hindi naman kalakihan ang sahod ng teacher.

Hindi naman ako magiging kasing-yaman ng successful businessmen.

Hindi naman kasing-taas ng income ng maraming doctor.

Hindi naman kasing-laki ng financial opportunities ng ibang professions.

Hindi ko iyon itatanggi.

Pero ang nakakainis ay parang dahil hindi kalakihan ang pera sa teaching, automatic na maliit na rin ang value ng taong gumagawa nito.

Parang kapag hindi ka mayaman, wala kang karapatang maging proud sa career mo.

Parang kailangan mong magkaroon ng malaking sweldo bago masabing may narating ka.

And honestly, nakakapagod iyon.

Kasi ang nakakatawa?

Hindi ko naman pinangarap maging doctor.

Hindi ko pinangarap maging lawyer.

Hindi ko pinangarap maging engineer.

Hindi ko pinangarap maging businessman.

At lalong hindi ko pinangarap magkaroon ng profession dahil lang may tinatawag na **“family legacy.”**

Ever since I was a child, teacher na ang nakikita kong sarili ko.

Hindi ito random career choice.

Hindi ito dahil wala akong ibang option.

Hindi ito dahil hindi ako qualified sa ibang profession.

Hindi ito dahil napilitan ako.

Ito talaga ang gusto ko.

Bata pa lang ako, teacher na ang naiimagine kong sarili ko.

Classroom.

Students.

Teaching.

Explaining things.

Helping children understand things they don't understand yet.

Watching them learn.

Watching them improve.

Teaching them things they can actually use in life.

I have never looked at myself and thought, **“One day, I want to be a doctor because that is what our family does.”**

Or **“I want to become a lawyer because it will continue the family's legacy.”**

Or **“I need to become an engineer because that's what will make the family proud.”**

No.

I wanted to be a teacher because I wanted to be a teacher.

Simple as that.

And maybe that's another thing that makes this whole situation more painful.

Because some of my relatives seem to have chosen their professions because they were expected to carry something forward.

Legacy.

Family name.

Family reputation.

Family expectations.

Family tradition.

And apparently, that's something worth being proud of.

Meanwhile, I chose something because I genuinely loved it.

And somehow, I'm the one who feels like the lesser person.

What the hell is that supposed to mean?

Should I have forced myself into another profession just so I could look more impressive at family reunions?

Should I have chosen a career I never wanted simply because it sounds better when someone introduces me?

“This is our doctor.”

“This is our lawyer.”

“This is our engineer.”

And then—

“This is our teacher.”

Teacher lang ako.

That's apparently my place on the family hierarchy.

And you know what?

I resent that.

I resent having to feel inferior because I chose the profession that actually felt like me.

I resent the implication that because I don't make as much money, I somehow accomplished less.

I resent the fact that people can spend their entire lives chasing status and prestige and then somehow look down on someone whose greatest ambition is simply to teach.

I resent being measured against people whose careers were partly shaped by family expectations while mine was shaped by something much simpler:

I wanted to teach.

And don't get me wrong.

I'm happy for them.

At least, I try to be.

I'm thankful that my relatives are successful.

I'm thankful that they have careers they can be proud of.

I'm thankful that our family has people who became doctors, lawyers, engineers, businessmen, military officers, and whatever else.

But my gratitude for their success does not erase the hurt I feel when their success becomes the measuring stick for my own worth.

I can congratulate them without wanting their lives.

I can admire what they accomplished without wishing I had their profession.

Because honestly?

I don't.

I don't wake up wishing I were a doctor.

I don't secretly wish I were a lawyer.

I don't look at an engineer and think, “I should have become that.”

I don't look at a businessman and think, “That's the life I wanted.”

I have always looked at myself and thought:

Teacher.

That's it.

Teacher lang ako.

And maybe that's why their attitude hurts so much.

Because they're not making me feel bad about a career I don't care about.

They're making me feel bad about something I actually love.

That's the part that cuts deepest.

I chose this.

I wanted this.

I saw myself doing this since childhood.

And yet somehow, every family reunion can make me feel like I made the wrong choice simply because my profession doesn't carry the same social prestige or financial weight as theirs.

I hate that feeling.

I hate sitting there and hearing everyone talk about careers, achievements, positions, businesses, titles, and money while knowing exactly where I apparently stand in that conversation.

Teacher lang ako.

Not doctor.

Not lawyer.

Not engineer.

Not businessman.

Not military officer.

Teacher lang ako.

And maybe I'll never be the most impressive person in the family.

Maybe I'll never be the richest.

Maybe I'll never have the biggest title.

Maybe I'll never continue some grand family professional legacy.

But at least I didn't spend my childhood dreaming of someone else's career just because it sounded prestigious.

I dreamed of being a teacher.

And I became one.

So yes, there is a lot of bitterness in me.

There is resentment.

There is disappointment.

There is hurt.

And I'm tired of pretending that I don't feel it.

Because every time I hear that subtle comparison, every time I feel that difference in treatment, every time another impressive profession gets celebrated while mine gets brushed aside, one thought keeps coming back:

“Teacher lang ako.”

Maybe that's how they see me.

Maybe that's all they see.

But I know what I see.

I see someone who chose the life he actually wanted.

Someone who wants to teach children how to survive and navigate life.

Someone who wants to give students practical knowledge, values, discipline, confidence, and life skills.

Someone who doesn't need a family legacy to justify his career.

Someone who doesn't need a prestigious title to know what he wants to do.

And yet, it still hurts.

Because sometimes, I don't want to be the strong one who says, “It's okay, I'm proud to be a teacher.”

Sometimes I just want to admit the ugly truth:

Yes. I'm hurt.

Yes. I'm bitter.

Yes. I resent being treated like the lesser professional.

And yes

I am f#cking tired of being “the teacher” in a family full of people whose professions apparently sound more important than mine.

But here's the irony:

If one day those doctors, lawyers, engineers, businessmen, and military officers look back at their childhoods, somewhere in that story there was probably a teacher who helped them become the people they eventually became.

And that teacher probably wasn't thinking about legacy.

Probably wasn't thinking about prestige.

Probably wasn't thinking about becoming rich.

They were just doing their job.

Teaching.

Just like me.

Teacher lang ako.

And maybe that's the only title I'll ever have that truly feels like mine.

Share ko lang yung mga well-known people sa mga relatives ko sa father side:

Una na diyan ang late veteran film director na si Lino Brocka, he is mostly known sa film na Manila Sa Kuko ng Liwanag. He is the son ng kapatid na babae ng granpa ko (tatay ng tatay ko).

Then si Randy Ortiz one of the well-known local fashion designers often incorporating yung mga indigenous designs. He is the son ng kapatid na lalake ng grandpa ko.

Then si Moy Ortiz most notable known as isa sa mga member ng The Company kung tama ang tanda ko. Anak naman siya ng pinsan ng grandpa ko.

Na-share ko lang.

Gigil talaga ako sa nangyari sa school.

Isa itong multi-campus private school.

Imagine, bago pa ako mag-resign, binigay ko na sa HR yung complete contact details ko—specifically sinabi ko pa na kung may maging issue sa resignation requirements, kontakin nila ako, lalo na’t possible ma-deactivate na yung school email ko.

Responsible employee behavior tayo.

Fast-forward one month.

A few days before the supposed release of my final pay, saka ko lang nalaman na may naging issue pala sa side ng supervisor ko. Apparently, na-inform naman daw ng supervisor ang HR na kontakin ako a few weeks before the release date para maayos yung concern.

Ang problema?

Hindi ako kinontak.

So noong Monday last week, ako na mismo ang nag-email sa HR para mag-follow up ng final pay. Ang sagot: “Hintayin daw.”

Okay. Patient tayo. Professional tayo eh.

Kaya nitong Thursday, nag-email ulit ako, this time very simple lang: May possible date na ba ng release ng final pay?

And then…

Silence.

No reply.

At this point, hindi ko na alam kung final pay ba ang hinihintay ko o final closure.

Nakakatawa kasi ako na nga ang nagbigay ng contact details para madaling ma-contact kung may problema, ako pa rin ang kailangang manghula kung may problema pala.

Lesson learned:

Sa resignation process, apparently hindi sapat na ikaw ay responsive. Kailangan mo rin palang maging psychic.

“Please wait” daw.

Sige po. Pero sana po, may estimated date rin ang paghihintay.

Because respectfully speaking, final pay po ito—not a season finale na kailangang hintayin ang next episode.