Bar Ooops

I had just witnessed how much pressure law students have to overcome to become lawyers.

The Philippine Bar Exam is said to be the most difficult of all licensure exams in the Philippines: four Sundays of September covering eight law subjects. Torture best describes the mixed feelings of anxiety, mental and physical stress, and lots of pressure. Just to give you an idea, the passing rates of these exams the past years are as follows: 1999-16.6%, 2000-20.9%, 2001-32.9%, 2002-19.7%, 2003-20.7%, 2004-31.6%, 2005-27.2%. Based on these numbers, it is safe to say that for every 4 law graduates, only 1 gets to be a lawyer. This year, more than 6000 hopefuls took the exams. That means to say around 1500 will become lawyers when the results come in sometime in March next year.

As a part of the Silliman University Bar Operations Club, I came to Manila to help our own barristers in whatever possible way. We were tasked to attend to their needs for the entire last weekend. Even though I was the only freshman in the group, the experience was one to remember, and one that would stick in my mind for the next four years.

The good thing about being there was to witness how the different barristers react to all the hype. I was here for the last Sunday but still the pressure was at a high level.

We woke up early that Sunday morning, before 4 AM, to make the necessary last-minute preparations. In a few hours time, the barristers will be back at La Salle Taft (where the exams are held).

We waited for our barristers at the Manila Pavilion Hotel (where the SU group were housed) lobby. As each examinee from various law schools came down, I saw their facial expressions and reactions. Each school formed their own small groups, and although each group were wearing their own school uniforms, one thing was common: tension. There was one who was sobbing while another tried to calm her down. Another was looking confident, but then kept on walking back on forth the lobby. One was simply sitting down and staring blankly outside. Interestingly, one guy was excited, loudly letting the others know that this was finally the "last day".

Just before boarding the bus, our own examinees began handing me their cellphones, as if implying that they did not want to be disturbed.

As we were on our way to Taft Avenue, the traffic was increasing, but surrounding us were other similar buses and vehicles with barristers aboard. A few hundred meters from La Salle, we had to get down and walk the rest of the way. Thousands were at the area, mostly supporters and schoolmates of those who would be taking the exams. It was loud and noisy - numerous bands playing their school songs, others simply screaming and shouting.

Everywhere you look you see streamers, posters, and banners showing support to the takers. There was some pushing and shoving, trying to get a better view of the main gate where each barrister got in one by one. I was able to get a spot at the island in the middle of Taft Avenue. I saw each barrister get in, many accompanied by some cheers from supporters. As they lined up, you see some panicking, doing some last minute reviews. Some were praying for divine help.

There was even one who looked as though he was about to puke. I can't blame him. I was a mere spectator - yet I never felt as nervous as I was feeling that time.

One important thing a barrister should have is mental toughness. One had to experience that kind of hype each of the four Sundays. If you're not strong enough - physically or mentally, it's almost a sure thing that you'd fail. There's no room for getting sick. It is said that people who were suffering from illness had no other choice but to take the exam. One reportedly carried with him a dextrous bottle as he took the exam. Some couldn't make it through the whole time. They could faint either due to the overwhelming stress or nervousness, or simply give up and hope for a better one the next year.

As they were all in, the gates were closed and the clock started ticking. We, on the other hand, went to our HQ - the 2nd floor of Chowking just across the street. There we met with other Sillimanian lawyers, young professionals and other loyal alumni in Manila who showed their tremendous support.

Just before lunch time, we, as well as others from different schools, took our positions. We brought with us all the kinds of food the barristers had requested - ranging from KFC chicken to Starbucks coffee to energy drinks.

Still a few hours later, as the afternoon was ending, the crowd piled up again. They came in all forces, as they await their friends and schoolmates. Again, there were bands and music all over. It was much like a big street party stretching for almost a kilometer along Taft Avenue. Each school had its own gimmick. It was even rumored that a female version of the oblation run (people who run naked) may take place. There was drinking, dancing, and shouting. Things almost turned ugly when two fraternities got into a commotion.

Then, finally, the first examinee came out of the gate - to the cheers of his school mates and friends. One by one they came out. Excitement was in the air as sounds of drums and trumpets were heard each time one would come out. As I saw all this, I began thinking... 1 out of 4... hmmm... and randomly tried to predict which of every 4 examinees passed. Since those were the odds of passing, I figured luck could indeed be a factor. Then I thought of myself. Hopefully, four years from now, I would also be one of those who would be coming out of those same gates. And even more hopefully, I would have all the luck I would need.

When everyone was out of the building, suddenly, around 10 black and darkly-tinted vans came out swiftly. These probably contained the exam booklets, to be transferred for safe-keeping. In a few months from now, examiners will start checking them. And in March, 2007, we will know exactly who those lucky 25% are.