‘Do you believe classrooms can still be places of great understanding? If your answer is yes, then hope continues to flicker, even through broken blinds.’
SUNLIGHT streams through cracked louvers and battered ceilings, ushering in another day in the Filipino classroom.
In every corner of the nation’s public schools, children squeeze into tight classrooms — some drained, others determined.
Teachers stand ready. Not just to educate, but to endure.
Each school day becomes a quiet war of attrition — against broken infrastructure, bloated class sizes, and the creeping fatigue of being forgotten.
We tell ourselves the classroom is an arena — where minds spar, skills sharpen, and futures are forged.
But too often, it’s an overcrowded triage unit.
One where students and teachers alike are patched together with masking tape, mercy, and the quiet martyrdom of those who still believe.
According to the groundbreaking 2025 report of the Second Congressional Commission on Education (EDCOM II), the country faces a staggering deficit of over 165,000 classrooms.
More than five million students are currently wedged into spaces built for half that number, their potential stifled by sheer proximity.
The stark reality of infrastructure budgets is even more alarming: a drastic plummet from ₱118 billion to a mere ₱28 billion, while actual needs hover above ₱400 billion. This isn’t just a budget cut; it’s an abandonment.
Even the buildings themselves are sounding the alarm.
Of 327,000 public school structures, over 200,000 are in dire need of repair.
While significant strides have been made, critical gaps persist: some schools, particularly in remote areas, still lack electricity, and over a thousand have no toilets – a basic human right denied.
Some offer little more than a roof — and sometimes not even that.
These are not abstract statistics.
They are the discomforts, humiliations, and hazards etched into a child’s memory — and a teacher’s endurance.
Yet still, we ask educators to do more with less — and somehow, many still do.
Take Elmer Cabanillas of Bagonbon National High School in Negros Occidental.
A former seminarian, Cabanillas transformed his classroom into a sanctuary of integrity.
No phones — not out of control, but out of care, fostering an environment where deep learning can truly thrive.
Cabanillas’s inquiry-driven method, built on trust, teaches not just curriculum, but character.
“We cannot give what we don’t have,” Cabanillas tells his students.
It’s a conviction. A daily offering.
That ethos echoes in the voices of his students — Jelyca Quiapo and Jayfer Landasabal — who speak with clarity and urgency about the challenges facing young people today.
To combat digital fatigue, Jelyca advocates for movement: hiking, running and being in the world beyond the screen.
Jayfer adds that reducing screen time helps restore critical thinking and emotional resilience.
On the issue of historical revisionism and misinformation, Jayfer warns how false narratives undermine identity and civic clarity.
Knowing the truth, he says, fosters respect, and patriotism.
Jelyca adds that youth, without scrutiny, become vulnerable to narratives dressed as fact but hollowed by omission — “Identity has a strong connection to history.”
To nurture critical thinking, Jelyca urges her peers to engage, to question, and to risk being wrong, recognizing that struggle is part of learning.
Jayfer champions media discernment: consuming content from trusted sources, not just trending ones.
Both students speak not just for themselves, but for a generation.
They are, as Jayfer says, “torchbearers of truth.”
For Jayfer, valuing truth in education can reshape societal norms — promoting honesty, civic pride, and media responsibility.
Jelyca agrees.
She understands that truth isn’t simply spoken — it’s built, brick by brick, into public trust.
“Being a torchbearer of truth helps shape a strong foundation for a better society,” Jelyca said.
Then there’s Cristine Joy Abastillas of Study Buddy Tutorial Hub in Diliman, Quezon City — a teacher with a mission.
Abastillas resists disinformation by modeling discernment, curiosity, and grounding in truth.
Her teaching is civic in nature — rooted in verification, first-hand accounts, and source analysis.
Movement and inquiry converge in her classroom.
It’s not just pedagogy. It’s preparation for democracy.
Cabanillas and Abastillas remind us what’s often overlooked:
* Public school teachers aren’t just instructors — they are torchbearers of truth and quiet architects of democracy, building bridges where institutions falter.
These are not just acts of teaching. They are acts of quiet defiance. Because real rebellion doesn’t always happen in rallies. It happens in classrooms. Where truth is practiced.
Where students learn not only to recall, but to reflect.
Where teachers model compassion, curiosity, and clarity.
Yes, we celebrate schools that shine — rare islands of infrastructure and innovation.
But most students are left treading water. Many are sinking.
So if we still believe the classroom can be an arena of hope, then let’s build it.
With courage, not clichés.
With steel, not slogans.
By restoring the education budget, we recognize it as the foundation of our future.
By respecting educators not just with words, but with wages and tools that truly dignify their invaluable labor.
By fixing the walls that crack under the weight of our collective inaction.
And let’s go further:
* Parents, volunteer in your children’s schools. Your presence affirms that their education matters beyond the classroom walls.
* Students, challenge what you’re taught. Defend the truth when it’s under siege. Your voice is powerful.
* Voters, elect leaders who treat education as an investment, not an expense. Demand accountability.
* Youth groups lead cleanup drives or mural projects to reclaim learning spaces. Make them your own.
* Media, look beyond graduation rates. Chronicle the slow violence of neglect and amplify the voices of those affected.
Because no child should have to fight to learn. And no teacher should have to wage war just to be heard.
Do you believe classrooms can still be places of great understanding? If your answer is yes, then hope continues to flicker, even through broken blinds.
