I am Lemuel, the eldest of three siblings. I am the son of a farmer. I grew up in poverty, on the farm, in sweat and mud. Even as a child, I knew how hard life was, and how simple our family was. My father, Delfin, did not finish his education. All he could do was till the ground, plant rice, and rely on the rain. But even so, I consider him the bravest and strongest person.

When I was young, I was often teased. They said I was a “farmer’s son”, always sweating and smelling of the sun when I went to school. I was not like my classmates who had clean shoes and new clothes. Sometimes, I was even made fun of because I was carrying an old bag that my mother had just sewn. But I endured it all. The only thing I had in my hand were the words my father kept repeating.

“Son, we are poor, but that doesn’t mean you have to stay there. Study. Be patient. One day, I won’t see you struggling like your mother and I did.”

So I persevered. While others slept, I studied by the light of a gas lamp. While my classmates ate delicious baguettes, I patiently ate stewed sweet potatoes or bananas. And while others complained about the difficulty of the assignment, I counted the hours I had to help in the field before I could sit down and study.

Many years passed. The day of my college graduation arrived, a day I had been dreaming of not for me, but for my father and mother. I wanted them to see that all their sacrifices had not been in vain.

But that day, I was ashamed to admit that I felt nervous. With so many parents in robes and dresses, with cars and fancy shoes, my father came, barefoot. Not because he wanted to, but because that was what he was used to. He was used to the ground, he was used to the mud. In fact, he didn’t even have proper shoes to wear. All he had with him was his thin body, a faded polo shirt, and a smile full of pride.

I saw the people. Some were teaching, some were whispering, some were shaking their heads and some were laughing at him. I felt ashamed. I felt the pain piercing my heart. “Why did he come like that?” whispered one of my classmates.

I wanted to hide. I wanted to get angry. But I held myself back.

And the moment came, the most important part. One by one, the names of the students who would receive their diplomas were called. The surroundings were silent. Until I heard my name.

“Lemuel Santos, Summa Cum Laude.”

The entire hall applauded. I stood up while shaking, and then looked at my father. There I saw his eyes filled with tears. The people who had been laughing earlier looked at him, and now they were clapping too. Suddenly the jokes stopped. The barefoot farmer they were looking at and insulting was the father of a Summa Cum Laude.

Amidst the applause, I thought. “This is not just my victory. This is my father’s and my father’s victory. The victory of all the sweat and effort he poured out just so I could study.”

When I went up to the stage, I couldn’t hold back my tears. And when I held the diploma, I immediately looked down and looked for my father. In the crowd, he was still the most important of all.

After the ceremony, I approached him. I hugged him tightly and whispered.

“Dad, I wouldn’t have gotten this if it weren’t for you. Thank you.”

He just smiled, wiping the tears from my cheeks, and his answer was.

“Son, it’s enough for me to see you standing there. The diploma you’re holding is the shoe I never had. That’s the success that’s greater than anything else I own.”

It’s not clothes, shoes, or wealth that measure a person’s true worth. Sometimes, what others laugh at is the reason for the greatest inspiration and success. The sacrifices of our parents, no matter how simple, can be the foundation of our dreams. And above all, the love of a father, even if barefoot, is greater than any praise and honor in the world.