A teacher without a home

By Noel Galon de Leon

There is a sad reality that many people would rather ignore. Behind the smiling faces of teachers standing in front of classrooms every day are stories of sacrifice that rarely make headlines. We celebrate them during Teachers’ Month. We praise them during graduation ceremonies. We call them heroes of education.

Yet many of them go home to rented rooms, cramped boarding houses, crowded apartments, or the homes of aging parents. Some spend their entire careers shaping the future of other people’s children without ever securing a home for themselves.

That is why when I read the news about Iloilo City Mayor Raisa S. Treñas announcing the allocation of housing units for public school teachers in the city’s housing projects in Sambag, San Isidro, West Habog-Habog, and Hibao-an, I felt something deeper than simple appreciation.

I felt hope.

Because this issue is deeply personal to me.

I know many teachers who are already nearing retirement age and still do not own a house. Some have spent decades paying rent. Others continue to share small boarding houses with fellow teachers just to make ends meet. Many still live in the homes of their parents despite having dedicated their lives to public service.

For many Filipinos, owning a home is considered a basic milestone of adulthood. It represents stability, security, and dignity. Yet for countless teachers, that dream remains painfully distant.

I understand this reality because I lived a version of it myself.

When I graduated and started working as a teacher, one of my first concerns was finding a place where I could eventually build a life. Not a mansion. Not a luxury condominium. Just a small house I could honestly call my own.

But reality quickly intervened.

My salary as a full-time teacher was limited. My responsibilities were many. Like thousands of educators across the country, I found myself choosing practicality over dreams.

Instead of buying a home, I rented.

At first, I shared a boarding house with a co-teacher who taught Chemistry. We divided expenses and tried to make the most of our modest living situation. Years later, when she finally decided to acquire her own home, I moved again and stayed with another co-teacher who taught Health and Physical Education in Mandurriao.

We got along well as housemates.

But there was always a lingering thought at the back of my mind.

When will I have a place of my own?

Then came the pandemic.

Like everyone else, I was confronted with uncertainty. The world seemed unstable. Jobs felt fragile. The future was difficult to predict.

Ironically, it was during that uncertain period that I made one of the biggest decisions of my life.

I told myself that if I was going to keep paying rent month after month—nearly ten thousand pesos plus water and electricity bills—perhaps it was time to take a risk and invest in something that would eventually belong to me.

The search was not easy.

I spent months looking for affordable housing options. Eventually, I found a townhouse in Jaro, near the boundary going to Pavia. It was not extravagant. It was not my dream house.

But it was a start.

I met with agents. I asked endless questions. I sought clarification about every confusing detail. I carefully reviewed documents and payment terms. Most importantly, I made sacrifices.

I postponed purchases.

I cut unnecessary expenses.

I adjusted my lifestyle.

Every month felt like a challenge.

Every payment required discipline.

And yes, it was terrifying.

People often romanticize homeownership, but the truth is that it can be frightening. There are moments when you question yourself. There are nights when you wonder whether you made the right decision.

But if you remain committed, if you are willing to sacrifice and persevere, you eventually realize that every payment is a step closer to security.

That experience is why this housing initiative for teachers matters so much.

Because housing is not merely about concrete walls and steel roofs.

Housing is about dignity.

Housing is about peace of mind.

Housing is about knowing that after spending an entire day managing classrooms, preparing lessons, checking papers, and guiding students, you have a place that truly belongs to you.

Unfortunately, the housing challenge facing teachers is not unique to Iloilo.

Across the Philippines, many teachers continue to struggle financially despite their indispensable role in society. Various studies over the years have shown that housing affordability remains one of the biggest concerns among government employees, including educators. Rising property prices, inflation, transportation costs, family obligations, and daily living expenses often leave little room for long-term investments such as homeownership.

This creates a painful contradiction.

We ask teachers to mold future leaders.

We ask them to inspire the next generation.

We ask them to serve as role models.

Yet many of them spend decades worrying about where they will live.

That should disturb us.

A society that depends on teachers but cannot provide them with a realistic path toward stable housing is a society with misplaced priorities.

And perhaps this is where the conversation becomes uncomfortable.

Governments at every level often find billions of pesos for infrastructure projects, road expansions, beautification programs, and grand announcements.

Those projects are important.

But what could be more important than investing in the people who educate our children?

What does it say about our values when some teachers retire after thirty or forty years of service without owning a single home?

What kind of gratitude is that?

These are difficult questions, but they deserve to be asked.

That is why I sincerely hope that this initiative announced by Mayor Raisa Treñas is not simply another press release that fades away after a few news cycles.

I hope it becomes a genuine, transparent, and sustainable program.

I hope the application process is fair.

I hope deserving teachers are prioritized.

I hope the units are affordable.

I hope this becomes a model that other local governments can replicate.

Because the truth is simple.

Growing old without a home is frightening.

Starting a family without a home is frightening.

Retiring after decades of service without a home is heartbreaking.

And no teacher who has dedicated a lifetime to educating others should have to face that reality.

For once, perhaps we are seeing a policy that addresses a problem many educators have quietly carried for years.

As someone who understands the fear, uncertainty, and sacrifice involved in pursuing homeownership, I cannot help but feel genuinely happy for the teachers who may benefit from this opportunity.

They deserve it.

After all, every day they help build the future of Iloilo City.

Maybe it is finally time that we help them build a future of their own.

And if this housing program truly delivers on its promise, then it will become more than a housing project.

It will become a statement.

A statement that teachers matter.

A statement that their sacrifices are seen.

And perhaps most importantly, a statement that the people who build our children’s dreams also deserve a place where they can finally come home.

***

Noel Galon de Leon is a writer and professor at the University of the Philippines Visayas, where he teaches in the Division of Professional Education and at UP High School in Iloilo. He is also the Secretary of the National Commission for Culture and the Arts-National Committee on Literary Arts.