By: Lyssa Monique Balajadia Izon
Many still have the wrong impression. When you say you’re a Criminology student, the first question often is, “Where are you assigned?” or “Ma’am, are you already a police officer?” I just smile, but deep inside, I want to correct that misconception. The truth is—even if you graduate with a degree in Criminology, even if you pass the licensure exam, it does not automatically make you a police officer. Becoming one is a different process—more complicated, more difficult, and much more uncertain. And in that system, many of us keep pushing, keep dreaming, and sometimes… we get tired.
I didn’t realize it at first, but this is why I wrote this journal. This is my testimony—not just mine, but for countless other students like me. Not just in Criminology, but in every path where dreams are steep, opportunities are few, and clarity is rare.
When I first enrolled in college, I didn’t even know how to spell “Criminology.” I was just a simple child with a dream to become a police officer—unaware of the challenges that lay ahead. Balancing training, law procedures, academics, and minor subjects was exhausting. But thanks to our teachers and instructors, every day felt a little lighter. They gave meaning to our struggles.
In our final year, the biggest challenge arrived—our thesis. Sleepless nights, hunger, fatigue—but we survived. More than that, our group was recognized with an award during graduation day. It was one of the happiest moments of my life.
Then I reviewed for the board exam, and by God’s grace, I passed. But amidst all that joy, came the heaviest blow—I found my vision had deteriorated. And poor eyesight is a disqualifying factor in applying to the Philippine National Police. Some suggested laser surgery, but it cost more than a hundred thousand pesos—a luxury our family couldn’t afford. My father, a public-school teacher, was our only breadwinner. At a time when I should’ve been celebrating, I found myself lost. I asked myself: Should I continue this course if I knew I wouldn’t reach my original dream?
But I chose to finish. I told myself, “It would hurt more if I gave up now.” I graduated. I passed. I became a licensed Criminologist. But then came the real question: “What now?”
The truth is, Criminology graduates don’t have many options. Most companies don’t prefer our background. The usual opportunity available is to become a security guard. And while there’s nothing wrong with that post, I feared being belittle: d. I still hoped for something greater.
While working as an administrative assistant at the provincial government, I randomly asked a client—who happened to be a Dean—if they accept part-time Criminology instructors. By some miracle, they said yes. That’s how I started teaching in the evenings. And the more I taught, the more I loved it. It felt as though God was whispering, “This is where you belong.”
Soon after, the Department of Education gave me the opportunity to teach in Senior High School. I became the first teacher in our school to handle the Special Program in Criminology. From a child who once dreamed of wearing a badge, I was now guiding children who shared that same dream. And there, I found my purpose.
I may not have become a police officer, but every day, I stand before students—with eyes filled with dreams and hearts full of hope—who might someday become the kind of police this country deserves. If I can shape even just a few of them to be disciplined, ethical, and compassionate, then maybe… my dream did come true. Just not in the way I imagined.
From one dream to a thousand eyes. This is the story of a young girl who once dreamed, got hurt, stood back up, and is now being used by God to light the way for others.
And to you, who is reading this—whatever your course, whatever your struggles—if you feel like giving up, remember this: everything happens for a reason. You may not fulfill your dream the way you expected… but maybe God is fulfilling it in a way far greater than you ever imagined.
Not all dreams are fulfilled for ourselves. Sometimes, they are fulfilled for others.
—Acknowledgements—
I would like to express my deepest gratitude to the people and institutions who have been part of my journey:
To my college classmates, thesis buddies who became friends, and to Bataan Heroes College where I earned my degree – thank you for the memories and growth.
To Asia-Pacific College of Advanced Studies, for giving me my first opportunity to teach even without experience.
To the Provincial Government of Bataan, for accepting me and supporting me in a time of uncertainty.
To the Department of Education and Bataan National High School – Senior High School, for trusting me to teach the Special Program in Criminology.
To my family and inspiration, for their unwavering love and support.
To Abucay Christian Baptist Church, for spiritual guidance.
And to God, for redirecting my path toward a greater purpose.
This journey is not mine alone — it is built by grace and shared with those who believed in me.
Citation & Access:
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Bughaw Review 
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