At an age when a child should only be learning to dream, Glendelyn was already learning how hard life could be. Yet, through every field she worked in and every kilometer she walked, she held on to one dream: to finish school.

Glendelyn was born into a family of six siblings in the remote mountains of Candoni, Negros Occidental.

Life was simple, but it was never easy.

Her parents survived through farm labor. They planted, weeded, harvested, and accepted whatever work was available. There was rarely enough money. There was rarely enough food.

At six years old, Glen joined her parents in the fields. While other children spent their days playing, she learned how to work under the sun.

The money she earned never stayed in her hands. Every peso went to the family's daily needs.

"It was normal for us," she remembers. "We worked because we needed to eat."

When her mother left to work abroad, the family hoped life would improve.

Instead, another hardship arrived. Without their mother's protection, Glen and some of her sisters became vulnerable to abuse. As a child, she experienced neglect, sexual harassment, and situations no child should ever have to endure.

For years, she carried the pain quietly. "There were times I felt that nobody loved me," she says.

Yet even in the middle of hardship, she held on to one dream. She wanted to finish school.

Not because she wanted awards. Not because she wanted recognition. She simply wanted a chance at a different life. A life that did not begin before sunrise in the fields. A life that did not end in exhaustion.

To stay in school, Glen balanced studying and farm work. Her allowance was only fifty pesos a week. Sometimes, she brought a small amount of rice from home. Sometimes, dried fish. Sometimes, vegetables.

Every Sunday afternoon, she and a friend walked approximately 32 kilometers from Agboy to Candoni Proper, where her school was located. They crossed rivers and uneven roads, carrying whatever supplies they could bring. On Fridays, they walked back home.

Then she worked through the weekend before returning to school again. She repeated the cycle for months.

Until one day, she simply could not anymore. The exhaustion reached deeper than her body. She was tired. Tired of struggling. Tired of wondering whether all the sacrifices would ever lead anywhere.

Eventually, she stopped going to school again.

The dream she had carried for years seemed to disappear into the same fields where she had spent her childhood.

By fifteen, she was working as a household helper. People encouraged her to return to school, but there was something she could not forget.

Whenever she came back after being absent for long periods, some teachers would joke, "Ay, nabanhaw ka pa?" — "Oh, you're still alive?" The words may have sounded harmless to others. To a child already carrying the shame of poverty, they hurt.

Every return to school felt like another reminder that she did not belong. So she chose not to return.

In 2010, Glen was back in Agboy, working in the fields once more.

Then someone came looking for children like her.

Pastor Joseph was conducting community mapping for Quidan Kaisahan and the Alternative Learning System (ALS). He was identifying out-of-school children and youth and encouraging them to continue their education.

Among those children was Glen.

At first, it was just a conversation. But sometimes, a conversation can change the direction of a life.

Pastor Joseph explained that ALS offered another chance. A second chance for learners who had stopped. A second chance for those who believed they had fallen too far behind. A second chance for children who still carried dreams.

As she listened, something stirred inside her. Hope.

For the first time in years, she imagined herself studying again.

Not sitting in a classroom feeling ashamed. Not being judged for her absences. Not being defined by poverty.

Just learning. Just trying again.

Supported by Instructional Managers, community volunteers, and Quidan staff, Glen enrolled in ALS.

Every Saturday, children from Agboy were fetched and brought to the Quidan office, where learning sessions were conducted.

There were days when lessons felt difficult. There were days when life remained difficult.

But this time, she did not walk alone. People believed in her.

And slowly, she began believing in herself.

In 2012, she passed the Accreditation and Equivalency Examination.

The girl who once thought her education had ended forever had completed a major step toward her future.

Soon after, she passed the scholarship examination of the STARS Foundation.

In 2013, she entered college.

Many people saw a college student. Few saw the child who had crossed rivers just to attend classes. Few saw the farm worker who woke before dawn. Few saw the girl who almost gave up on herself.

In 2016, Glendelyn graduated Cum Laude.

When she received her diploma, it represented more than academic achievement. It represented every kilometer she walked. Every day she worked in the fields. Every tear she cried when life felt unfair. Every person who chose to help instead of ignore.

After graduation, she joined Quidan Kaisahan as a Program Officer.

The organization that helped her find her way back to education had now become her workplace.

Life continued to bring challenges. She became a mother. She paused her career to care for her child.

Then she returned. One step at a time. The same way she had always moved forward.

Today, she serves as Officer in Charge -Team Leader of Quidan Kaisahan in La Carlota City.

When she visits communities and meets children who have stopped schooling, she sees pieces of her younger self.

The same fears. The same struggles. The same unanswered questions.

And she knows that sometimes, all it takes is one person willing to knock on a door and say: "You still have a chance."

Looking back, Glen says education did not magically erase every hardship she experienced.

But it opened a door that poverty had tried to keep closed.

She still remembers the child she used to be. The little girl whose hands were covered with scratches, thorns, and calluses from farm work. The girl who wondered if life would ever become different.

Today, her message is for every learner who feels left behind:

"Never underestimate the opportunities that ALS can provide. Your circumstances today do not define your future, and it is never too late to continue learning and pursue your dreams. ALS is a second chance to learn, grow, and create a better future. Keep dreaming and keep moving forward. Your dreams are still within reach."

To the ALS Implementers and Instructional Managers:

"Keep reaching the children in far and remote communities. Many are still waiting for someone to find them, believe in them, and remind them that they can still dream. Sometimes, one visit, one word of encouragement, or one opportunity can change a child's life. Keep believing. You may be helping write the next Glendelyn's story."

And perhaps that is what her story is really about.

Not poverty. Not hardship. Not even success.

It is about what happens when a child is given another chance to dream.

Because sometimes, the longest journey is not the 32 kilometers from Agboy to Candoni Proper.

Sometimes, it is the journey back to believing that your future is still waiting for you.