Classes Without Classrooms

By Herman M. Lagon

It is shocking and heart-wrenching: a government office with barely a dozen in a high-tech air-conditioned boardroom, just blocks from a public school where students sit elbow-to-elbow, some writing on laps, others pinched next to the door – or worse, learning from a shade tree. This is not unusual. It is a daily routine for thousands of students suffering from the country’s acute classroom crisis.

DepEd pinpoints the shortage as over 165,000 classes. The elementary schools suffer worst, accounting for nearly two-thirds of shortage. Places like CALABARZON, NCR, and Central Luzon are among those with incidents of highest overcrowding. In some cases, rooms which only accommodate 45 today have between 80 and 90 students. Over 8,000 students move in shifts at Misamis Oriental General Comprehensive High School in rooms which never experience a break.

This is not a matter of space only. This is a matter of safety, health, and dignity. Overcrowding leads to poor ventilation, less attention, and high-stress levels. Salawu et al.’s study (2023) confirms that congestion diminishes both pupil achievement and teacher performance. With busy schedules and crowded, airless rooms, even dedicated teachers burn out fast.

Meanwhile, contrast it. The overwhelming majority of government offices have up-to-date meeting rooms with well-furnished chairs and spotlessly clean floors – filled with a dozen or so workers at a time. Across town, schools have splintered chairs, makeshift partitions, and tarpaulin roofs. The unequal distribution is not only absurd. It is excruciating.

To remedy this, DepEd is targeting the construction of 15,000 additional classrooms by 2027 via public-private partnerships. It is, however, a small drop in a very large ocean given the existing backlog. It is argued by critics that infrastructure is a state function, not a job for contracting out. It demands legislation for complete 6% GDP support for education, a constitutional obligation that is only partially fulfilled.

Projects by non-government organizations like the Generation HOPE initiative – in partnership with brands like Penshoppe and SM – call for innovative solutions, funneling funds from customers towards construction in schoolrooms. While noble, they raise a question too: why should learning be dependent on charity when it is a fundamental right?

Construction is in itself ineffective. EDCOM 2 reports that only 847 classrooms were scheduled for construction in 2022 – stalled by delays, land, and contractor complications. Not even DPWH and DepEd can find common ground on a cost for a classroom. Students wait in the interim.

Classrooms in Quezon City’s Bagong Silangan High School are doubled up, with up to 100 students passing through in rotation. The teachers juggle classes, time, noise, and heat like double-duty stage performers. The teacher in Canitoan Elementary in Cagayan de Oro spans a number of grade levels in a room, making it all up as she goes along so that the day would proceed smoothly.

Teachers, often unsung heroes, still show up. Some arrive before dawn, make room for heat and hour-fluctuating classes, and get it done because someone has to. Their perseverance is a testament, though often implicit, to a broader responsibility—to get in front of students where they are, no matter tough the environment.

Others propose using hybrid learning as a solution. But that only works if students have access to reliable internet and devices, which is never true in those same places where they are worst hit by shortages. It is not very innovative for a Grade 4 pupil in a remote barangay to be made to study in front of a computer when his unfinished classroom is still available. That is evasion.

The difference increases when they look at well-finished office interiors in government buildings while classes remain unfinished. Motion detectors in empty lounges, but children have plastic chairs. It is not a case of jealousy – it is equity.

It is high time for a more down-to-earth approach to infrastructure. If meeting rooms can be fitted out for ergonomic chairs, high time for a real-walled classroom, ventilation, and tables. Children should not have to take a test sweating, standing, or balancing a notebook on a knee.

We are not asking for marble campuses. Just rooms that facilitate real learning. Space enough for students to be in, enough air for them to breathe, enough dignity for them to grow. If we actually value free and good education, our schools should be a reflection of that promise, not only on paper but in walls. Because that pupil learning under a banana tree? That is not just a picture of poverty, it is a reflection of our priorities. Unless we are serious about our future, it is well past time for us to get started on repairing it, classroom by classroom—with all due speed, integrity, and unsparing dedication.

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Doc H fondly describes himself as a ”student of and for life” who, like many others, aspires to a life-giving and why-driven world grounded in social justice and the pursuit of happiness. His views do not necessarily reflect those of the institutions he is employed or connected with.