By Lara Charmaine Lagorra
“The purpose of life is to be defeated of greater and greater things. Kung hindi ka natatalo, hindi ka na gumagalaw.”
A quote from the film Bar Boys (2017), delivered by Odette Khan as Justice Hernandez. The line captures the emotional terrain of what law students have been feeling deep down—all the breakdowns, burnout, fear, but the unrelenting drive to continue.
For many households, the Philippine Bar exam is not merely an academic milestone but a generational victory. On the big screen, names flicker line by line as the crowd waits in breathless anticipation. Compared to any other licensure release, it is the most anticipated, drawing massive media attention.
There is always something touching and heartfelt about hearing provinces and families proudly claim their new “Attorney,” especially when you listen to each passer’s story.
Behind every headline, tarpaulin, and congratulatory post lies a grueling path that only those closest to a law student can truly understand.
This year, the country welcomed 5,594 new lawyers out of 11,420 examinees at a 48.98% passing rate. The numbers alone testify why the Bar is considered one of the most difficult examinations in the Philippines.
The profession holds a symbolic prestige rooted deeply in Philippine society. For generations, law has been viewed as a path not only to influence and governance but also to nation-building. It goes far beyond memorizing the Constitution. Law students internalize codals, doctrines, and rights while developing logic, precision, and sound judgment. They must learn not just to read the law but to interpret and apply it, often under intense pressure.
When Bar season arrives, the difficulty only intensifies. Bar takers must answer not simply on what they read about the law but how to understand and uphold it. Because in the real world, after all, people’s lives, freedom, and futures depend on how well a lawyer understands and interprets the law.
Throughout this journey, students sacrifice so much. From birthdays and milestones, rest, and time with loved ones. Whether privileged or struggling, all push toward the same goal with determination. Each carries their own quiet struggle on their tired back as they continue moving forward.
Many students are also driven by their own advocacy, usually the desire to amplify the voices of the unseen, protect vulnerable families, defend fisherfolk rights, or uplift marginalized communities. Their passion for justice becomes fuel when exhaustion threatens to overpower them.
Some pass the Bar on their first try; others take multiple attempts—even the 11th. Each Bar passer’s story is different, yet all are a testament to perseverance and the belief that it’s never too late to achieve a long‑held dream. In the end, what truly defines the journey is not just crossing the finish line, but realizing that the weight of the process was lightened by friends, mentors, and family who stood quietly but firmly behind you.
At the end of the day, one can memorize legal codes and recite the Constitution from memory, but applying the law in real life requires judgment, responsibility, and integrity. The law is dual-faced: it can shield the vulnerable or be weaponized against them by those in power.
Earning the title “lawyer” is one thing, but choosing to be the kind of lawyer who represents the ignored, defends the silenced, and stands firm against injustice is another.
True success is not measured by rankings or being the best in class but by purpose, compassion, and conscience. Passing the Bar proves you know the law; living it with integrity proves you understand its weight.
And in a country still fighting for fairness, transparency, and accountability, every new lawyer carries a flame—not just of achievement, but of a symbol of hope. A hope strong enough to guide others, light dark corners, and keep justice alive.
