LAST JUNE 16, more than 27 million learners across the country’s 48,000 public and 12,000 private schools officially started their academic journey for the School Year 2025-2026. This marks the country’s first return to a June opening since the academic calendar was adjusted during the Covid-19 pandemic.
As expected, social media platforms were flooded with endless “first day of school” posts by excited parents, with most mothers waxing sentimental lines of how their once little babies are now taking small steps toward the realization of their dreams.
That same day, I positioned myself early at our school’s main entrance to welcome old faces and new members of our growing school community. As I watched the preschool kids slung Marvel heroes-themed backpack over their shoulders, my mind travelled back to 1973 when I set foot at the Macabebe Central School for the first time. Back then school was a lot simpler – my own bag was made of canvas, not branded cartoons, and the heaviest thing I carried was a pad paper, a Mongol 2 pencil and a baon of pan de sal with margarine.
My classmates and I wore ironed cotton uniforms, and sat on creaky wooden desks for two under ceiling fans that barely moved. Our Grade 1 teacher, the late ‘Dang Ziniang Castillo, was the strictest and most feared in the primary level. Based on the standards of today’s GenZ, she was the epitome of a terror teacher. But for one reason or another, most parents, my mother included, wanted their children to be in her class. When Mrs. Castillo raised her eyebrow, any mischief would freeze and stop in his or her tracks. When she hit her table with her two-foot bamboo stick, the entire room would be silenced and not a single sound could be heard from us including from the bystanders outside her room, peeping through the capiz windows.
She was respected by parents and we were all entrusted to her care as our second parent. She was never questioned for her ways of instilling discipline on us; if anything, they would say “Magulu ka siguru at masyas a buntuk!” when we got scolded by her.
Fast forward to 2025, and schools have evolved. Air-conditioned rooms, digital learning modules, and online submissions are now the norm. Today’s learners are tech-savvy and assertive, their attention divided among TikTok, Minecraft, and ChatGPT. They’re brilliant, yes—but often impatient with anything that doesn’t come with a like button or auto-correct.
As a private school administrator since 2002, I have seen first-hand how classroom dynamics have shifted. Discipline? That’s now a diplomatic negotiation. Teachers must tread carefully, wary of parents quick to post grievances on Facebook, email the principal and the division superintendent, or go straight to Tulfo “without due process.” Back in the days, parents entrusted their children to teachers wholeheartedly, now some parents treat educators as customer service reps—with matching performance reviews.
Many of today’s teachers wrestle daily with behavioral issues, absentee parenting, and social media-fuelled attitudes. While it is definitely hard to teach values when you’re competing with viral trends, it becomes harder when the support once expected from home is replaced with entitlement.
Despite facing multi-faceted problems that seem to compound every year, I remain hopeful.
Every year, when I see the flood of children in uniform walking to school, I feel a tug in my heart. Each day of the school year makes me realize that learning still happens and kindness still blooms in classroom corners. And somewhere out there is a teacher, arms full of lesson plans and heart full of patience, quietly shaping lives—just as Mrs. Castillo once did to me and my classmates.
Let us take some time to thank all teachers. In this day and age, it is never easy to become one. May the school bells all over the country ring not just with noise, but with purpose.
