LEARNING MUST never stop.
So says the Department of Education. This was the battle cry that reverberated during the Covid-19 pandemic and extended to this day whenever classes are suspended due to natural calamities such as typhoon and flooding.
Ensuring that learning continues through alternative delivery modalities seems logical at first glance. Although this is a well-intentioned slogan, it actually fails to capture the disturbing reality of students and their families that are battling both natural calamities and the pressure of synchronous, asynchronous or modular learning sessions.
Over the weekend, the combined effects of Severe Tropical Storm Crising and the southwest monsoon have already affected at least 800,864 people across the country’s 16 regions, according to the National Disaster Risk Reduction and Management Council (NDRRMC).
In Pampanga, more than 50 barangays are flooded with the towns of Macabebe, Masantol, and Minalin as among the worst hit. A number of roads are submerged that even light vehicles are unable to pass.
As a result, local government units were quick to respond to the advisory of the NDRRMC, prompting them to suspend classes in all levels of public and private schools. This is a welcome move as we continue to prioritize the safety of the learners, teachers, and other school personnel.
I have to admit I am not big fan of online classes and modular learning and will choose in-person classes at any given time and day. For the past five years, I have observed that online classes during floods have become an added layer of stress among students and their parents rather than a refuge for the continuity of learning. True, we have all made significant and admirable efforts to shift to alternative learning delivery modalities. But the more pressing questions is: at what cost to students?
According to a 2022 World Bank report, only 20% of Filipino students in rural areas have stable internet access. In my beloved Macababad town, access to devices and connectivity remains an elusive privilege, not a given. Let us be honest here. When floodwaters rise, so do anxieties — not about quizzes, performance tasks or deadlines, but about whether the house will hold, whether food is enough, and whether loved ones are safe.
Ideally speaking, learning should continue during these times. But insisting that it remains uninterrupted is, quite frankly, an oversight that already borders on impracticality and insensitivity. Teachers and school administrators, themselves victims of the same floods, are often obligated to deliver lessons despite facing similar challenges at home. But students, especially the most vulnerable, are expected to perform academically while living in evacuation centers or homes with ankle-deep water.
In 2023, a UNICEF Philippines study found that 76% of students reported increased anxiety and fatigue during remote learning in disaster-stricken areas. The pressure to keep up academically amid chaos does not lead to learning, but to burnout. This proves that the physical toll of online classes is matched by a mental one.
I remain firm in my belief that we can still bridge learning gaps without forcing education during crisis moments. During these times I don’t see anything wrong if we pause learning temporarily. The safety and mental well-being of students should come before academics. True, education is important but so is empathy. In my hometown Macababad today, survival is the priority. Learning can wait.
