MY FATHER WAS HUMILIATED AT MY GRADUATION CEREMONY… BUT WHEN MY NAME WAS CALLED, EVERYONE STOOD AND APPLAUDED

I am Lemuel, the eldest of three siblings. I am the son of a farmer. I grew up in poverty, in the fields, amidst sweat and mud. At a young age, I already knew how hard life was, and how simple my family lived. My father, Delfin, had no formal education. All he knew was how to plow, plant rice, and wait for the rain. But even so, I still consider him the bravest and strongest person I know.

When I was a child, I was often teased. They would call me the “farmer’s son,” always sweaty and smelling of the sun when I went to school. I was different from my classmates, who wore clean shoes and new clothes. Sometimes, they would mock me for carrying an old school bag that my mother had just finished patching. But I endured it all. The only thing I held on to were the words my father would always repeat to me:

“Son, our family is poor, but that doesn’t mean you have to stay that way. Study hard. Bear with it. One day, I don’t want to see you struggling the way your parents do.”

So I persevered. While others slept, I studied under the dim light of a kerosene lamp. While my classmates enjoyed delicious baguettes, I patiently ate boiled sweet potatoes or bananas. And while others complained about homework, I counted the hours I needed to help in the fields before sitting down to study.

Years passed. The day of my college graduation finally came—the day I dreamed of, not for myself, but for my parents. I wanted them to see that all their sacrifices had not been in vain.

But on that day, I was ashamed to admit that…

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