Republic of the Philippines

Pasay City National Science High School

Schools Division Office - Pasay City

Caption: Ayesha Ehris Salazar Layout: Angelique Inlong For a moment, let the moments created in 2024 play inside your head. It wasn’t perfect, was it? But despite the doubts and fears it brought, here’s the truth you might have not told yourself enough: you did your best, you were learning. You still are. Look how far you’ve come. You might feel like you should’ve done more, reached higher, been better. But now, let us tell you this: What we see is someone who didn’t give up even in the days they never thought they could survive. As the clock strikes at twelve, may you let go of the weight of expectations that never truly belonged to you. Leave behind the self-doubt, the “what-ifs,” and the “should-haves.” This year whispers promises of better days, lighter moments, and new beginnings, and may you walk into it with a lighter heart. This year doesn’t demand perfection from you. It doesn’t require you to have it all figured out. Instead, it offers you a gift: a chance to begin again. PaScians, may 2025 treat you kindly. May it meet you with open arms, with opportunities to laugh, to heal, to explore. And may you meet it with the quiet confidence of someone who knows they’ve already done their best—and will continue to do so.  

Wrapped by: Chloe CristobalPublication: Yelena Fabricante For through it all, we thank you for walking this journey with us at The Quantum—sharing, engaging, and amplifying the stories that matter. With the help of Facebook Analytics, we saw the numbers, but more importantly, we felt the voices behind them. Behind every like, share, or view is a student who paused their scrolling to listen, engage, and reflect. Behind every publication was a team that believed in the stories we told and the change they could ignite. As we turn the page to 2025, we remain steadfast—grateful for the milestones we’ve hit and humbled by the trust you’ve placed in us. We promise to keep chasing the truth, to amplify your voices, and to never shy away from the stories that matter. The Quantum will always be here, recording today, shaping tomorrow, and building a future where every student knows their voice is a spark that can ignite a revolution. Here’s to another year of courage, creativity, and commitment to the truth. Let’s write it together.  

By: Chloe Arabella D. Cristobal Publication: Sofia Divinagracia Christmas lights twinkling. Choirs of children outside singing. Each family gets together to do their different ways of bonding. The holiday spirit ‘round the neighborhood is clearly brewing. The passing of research papers nearing. A mountain of backlogs that I should be doing. Competitions and tasks; I spend the majority of the break planning. The excitement I had during the start of the festive season is slowly dwindling. I was once a confused kid whose eyebrows furrowed whenever I saw my older cousins who were in high school at that time worrying about the pending work they have greeting their return to school after New Year’s. My pupils were once full of curiosity whenever I saw them from afar  preparing for group projects with their classmates, right around the exact same time when my Titas and Titos were preparing for Noche Buena. I used to look at the situation with orbs full of wonder. My mouth would stay agape at the vibrant colors and intricate patterns they used for their Parol design. I would even offer to help them look for recyclable materials they could use for their project, but they would always deny my help. I always wondered why they did, and I always felt rejected when they would say I should enjoy the time I had with my younger cousins when I still can. Now, I look at the situation with eyes full of sympathy. I can now understand why they chose to deny my offer instead of letting me join in. It’s hard to admit, but everything really does get ten times more complicated when you start to grow up. Nostalgia overpowers the present, and the longing for the coziness of Christmas turns into a yearning for the warmth you felt in the past. There is no doubt that being a Science High School student during times like these prove to be a challenge. Maintaining balance between academics, extracurriculars, friends, family, and alone time can be a tedious task to do. More often than not, even with weeks of school off, the things that make you a student still take hold of you even if you want to be free from its grip. But I learned that this doesn’t mean all hope is lost, this doesn’t mean that the warmth I once felt can never be experienced again. After all, the Christmas spirit can still live on. They say that Christmas is the season of giving, but I think most of us misinterpret that saying. Giving does not only entail presents, big or small. It doesn’t simply stop at material things, from new clothes to heartfelt letters. It does not only refer to giving to others, but also to yourself and well-being. Christmas is the season of giving time. It is the only period of the year where the family gets together and celebrates the momentous occasion of all. Besides that, with the end of 2024 nearing, it proposes an opportunity for us to take a moment and breathe. Giving time for yourself to relax and rewind can do wonders for the upcoming year. This holiday season, I will be sure to appreciate the twinkling lights and sparkling decor. I’ll take a step back from my desk and spend moments with my family that I am sure will someday be part of tradition. In the spirit of giving, I will give myself memories worthy of remembering.

By: Caleb LiPublication: Yelena Kazmier Fabricante The holidays are a time for joy, celebration, and of course, food! But staying merry doesn’t mean sacrificing your health. Discover The Quantum’s top tips for maintaining balance while savoring every festive bite.

Caption: Ayesha Ehris Salazar and Emmanuel Nepomuceno Layout: Angelique Inlong We once believed that Christmas was a season full of magic. ✨ As children, we believed in Santa Claus, his unlimited presents, and the wishes he granted. 🎅🏻 But, as we grow older, the holiday season becomes different. We face the challenges of reality that dim the spark of Christmas. We mostly feel disconnected, wondering if this season still holds the same joy and excitement it once did. Yet, Christmas is the celebration of love and hope. This season reminds us that no matter how dark the nights seem, there will always be light. 🌟 This season serves as an opportunity to reflect and reconnect with the things that truly matter: Family. Love. Hope. 💖 Despite the uncertainties and doubts, Christmas permits us to embrace new beginnings. 🫂 It’s about how ordinary circumstances can bloom into something remarkable. 🎄 Christmas is about giving—of time, love, and peace. It’s an opportunity to step outside our struggles and extend our helping hand to others. 🤝🏻 Of course, it’s about the story of Jesus Christ’s birth, which encourages faith and courage—that we need in every step of our lives. So, by upholding our tradition, such as putting parols and Belen in front of our home, ⭐ playing and singing our favorite carols, 🎶 and participating in Simbang Gabi, we can remind ourselves that hope still exists even in tough times. 🔔 As we age, the way we celebrate Christmas may change, but its essence will always remain. 🧩 It’s about finding happiness despite challenges. It’s about having hope even in the most difficult moments. Christmas allows us to believe—if not in Santa Claus and its presents, then in the power of love. And that is indeed the greatest gift of all. 💝 PaScians, let us never forget that Christmas is the most wonderful time of the year! 🎅🏻 Laugh a little louder, love a little stronger, and let the spirit of Christmas fill every corner of your heart. Happy holidays and we wish you a merry Christmas! 🎄✨  

Community Feature of Daniel Jefferson Quintin Faith, culture, and community converge in Baclaran tonight at Christmas Eve. Near the church, stalls display religious wares that reflect the nation’s enduring devotion. Late-night vendors stay open, offering bargains that speak of resilience. Yet, amidst the energy, the question remains: can one navigate its lively chaos with vigilance intact?

Community Feature of Reisha Uy For many, the joy of Christmas is a privilege, not a given. At the Pasay City Public Market, this truth is evident. The cart pusher, hands red from the cold, labors to earn just enough to bring home a modest meal. Sellers, burdened by poverty, exchange goods with dreams of providing a better holiday for their families. These stories remind us that while Christmas is a time of joy for some, it remains a challenge for many. As we celebrate, let us also reflect on how we can extend compassion to those for whom this season is a struggle.

By: Chelsie Rain PalimaPublication: Nyasia Carim My throat stings as I breathe in the icy air of the winter, a cold lingering just a few breaths beyond the next. I could’ve sworn I heard my mother’s high-pitched voice, scolding me as a trickle of mucus dripped down my now red nose. I almost smiled at the memory, surely—she’d be wiping my nose right now, drawing out evidence of childish neglect left on it. Instead, I bring up my arm and use the sleeve of my sweater to wipe it, reminding me of what I’ve lost. When I was younger, relatives from both sides of my parents would gather at our place, drawn to its spacious warmth. There is some sort of tradition that runs in the family, where my mother, every Christmas Eve, would sit before the piano during dinner, her fingers dancing along the monochrome keys of the instrument. I would watch in awe as she did so. It was a silly dream of 5-year old me to become a pianist like she was. Maybe in a few years, I’d be the one playing before the piano during Christmas Eve dinner. I remember the way her face contorted in horror when I told her about it—screaming at me, saying that such a career won’t do me no good and that I should be more practical with my choices. Ever since then, I refused to speak with her when it concerns my passion and interests. Even so, I never stopped watching her. Even as the gap between us widened, I continued to watch her in my seat at the table during Christmas dinner. Even as I stopped involving her in my dreams, I still found myself being mesmerized as she struck each chord on the keyboard. Each drop of every note her fingers released clinging to the hearts of her audience—our family. I wanted to believe that in at least one of those notes— she was trying to speak to me or give me a message, one I was desperate to decode. Perhaps, it was her way of showing she still cared, speaking in a language that only the two of us can understand—music. As the clock continued to rotate, as the Christmas dinners kept on coming, the notes she released grew faint, fading into a whisper in stillness. Until there was nothing— it was in that  silence that I realized; the music had gone with her. It had been years since I’ve stepped foot in the house I grew up in. The place was dusty and dull. Dull as in nothing vibrant remained; the fireplace was burnt out, the plates and glasses still inside the cabinet, as though waiting for hands that would never come. There were no loud thuds of hurried footsteps from upstairs where me and my cousins would play chase. The air held no flavor of lola’s food that she would prepare before every Noche buena— Haunting me the most was the empty sound of the hallways, not a single sound of a piano. No melodies were threaded into the fabric of holidays glee and warmth. The instrument sat untouched, alone in the corner of the dining room. Its once-polished keys now dulled by a thin layer of dust, yellowing within time. I approached it slowly and carefully, as though fearing the fragile ambiance in my old home would shatter if I wasn’t too careful. I run my trembling fingers along the dusted keys, to which it responded—a ghost of its former voice, trembling like a sigh, as if it, too, remembered the songs it once carried and longed to sing them again. The note hung in the air for a while, until it dissolved with the memories that were made within the house. It reminded me once again of what I’ve lost. My mother would always play the same songs over and over again every year at Christmas dinner. But one night, it was different. As I watched  her unusually trembling hands dance over the keys. The melody was unfamiliar, rather carrying a heavier weight and a slower rhythm than the songs she would usually play. Had she composed this melody by herself? I remember looking around the dining room to watch the expressions of the people around the table, but they have not seemed to have noticed even the slightest bit of change. Her face remained stoic, like always, her heart deciphering notes our ears could not. It was as if she was trying to fight a battle only she could hear. My relatives applaud as the last note lingered in the air. My hands felt like they were stuck resting on my thighs, I couldn’t even smile as I watched her get up from the piano and join us to eat. I didn’t know that it would be the last time I would hear her play. I didn’t know it would be the last time I would feel Christmas as well. I now stand where she stood, my hands travelling across the same path hers did on the keys of the piano. I played much more clumsily compared to her that’s for certain—the notes stumbled, almost hesitant, as if the instrument was longing for its previous owner. I felt my fingers getting heavier the longer I played, but at the same time, so did the piano respond to me—as if remembering her touch through mine. I looked ahead at the dusty mirror across the room. I did not see my mother, I did not see myself right now either. I saw a little girl, laughing and giggling with her family around a dining table that was too familiar for me not to recognize. Sat in the air was the aroma of lola’s cooking, and in the background were hyper kids the same age as her. The scene in the mirror faded as I was once again staring into my reflection. I didn’t see my mother. I felt my fingers move on their continue reading : Where the Music Ends