The cost of weak learning foundations

By Herman M. Lagon

Many teachers know this moment well. A senior high student stares at a distance–time word problem, not because the math is hard, but because the sentence itself will not open. The numbers are simple. The formula is on the board. Still, the student freezes, quietly hoping someone else answers so the moment can pass. What feels personal is actually common. EDCOM 2 data shows mastery dropping from 30.5 percent in Grade 3 to just 0.47 percent by Grade 12. In real terms, this means most senior high students are still struggling with the basics—reading with understanding, basic numeracy, the skills needed to learn anything else.

The situation is less dramatic than it sounds, but more damaging. It is like building a house on a weak foundation and adding floors anyway because the schedule says so. The walls stand, the paint looks fine, but the structure creaks. Mass promotion has worked this way. Students move up even when the basics are shaky. By Grade 12, only a few meet expected standards. The rest survive—by memorizing, guessing, leaning on classmates, or learning how to pass without fully learning. Now imagine carrying that fragile foundation into college. The pressure only grows heavier, and the gaps harder to hide. That conversation, though, belongs to another column space.

This must be said carefully: Our students are not incapable. The data does not point to laziness. It points to resilience. Many students manage despite crowded classrooms, missing resources, and long commutes. What failed them was not ability, but support and timing. The system often did not slow down when it should have, or intervene early enough. Saying “this child is not ready yet” feels harsh. In the long run, it is an act of care.

Look at the bigger picture. Prosperity does not come from billboards or shiny malls, but from productivity. Productivity comes from people who can read instructions, make sense of information, solve new problems, and learn as tools change. When thinking is shallow, work stays cheap. This is why the learning crisis is not just an education issue. It is an economic one. Investors hesitate to build advanced industries when the workforce cannot reliably meet technical demands. Innovation becomes rare. Wages remain low. Growth becomes shallow. There may be more consumption, more food parks, more weekend sales, but not enough laboratories, design centers, or high-tech factories. No country has become high-income while most of its people struggle with Grade 3 skills. Education gaps also have civic consequences, shaping not only how people work, but how they choose leaders and respond to public power.

This also explains a long-standing paradox. Individually, Filipinos shine. Overseas, they are trusted professionals. Locally, many excel despite the odds. Yet as a system, we lag. Success becomes accidental rather than designed. Those who escape through strong families, good private schools, or extraordinary grit thrive. Everyone else carries the weight of gaps they did not create. Over time, inequality hardens. Social trust weakens. People stop believing that effort leads to reward. Talent leaves. Cynicism grows. Education, in this sense, is not just preparation for work. It quietly shapes how people relate to society itself.

The EDCOM 2 findings make this trajectory visible. Using national assessments from 2023 to 2025, the Commission found that nearly 70 percent of Grade 3 learners are not proficient in foundational literacy and numeracy. By Grade 6, proficiency drops to around 19.56 percent. By Grade 10, it falls to 1.36 percent. By Grade 12, it reaches 0.47 percent (EDCOM 2, 2026). These are not random dips. They reflect a compounding failure to master basics early. International studies support this pattern. UNICEF and the World Bank report that 91 percent of Filipino children at late primary age cannot read and understand a simple story. Once literacy falters, everything else follows. The learning gap hardens into a wall.

Teachers see this wall daily. A science lesson turns into a reading lesson. A math period becomes a decoding exercise. A research task collapses because students cannot summarize a paragraph. None of this appears in glossy reform presentations. It appears in teachers staying late, rewriting instructions, adjusting expectations, and quietly lowering the bar just enough to keep students moving. This emotional labor is rarely acknowledged. EDCOM 2’s call to reduce non-teaching tasks is not a convenience issue. It is a survival one. When teachers are buried in paperwork, they lose the one resource that matters most in early intervention: time.

By the time children enter Grade 1, much has already been decided. Early childhood remains neglected, with many growing up without books, proper nutrition, or enough support. Teachers spend years trying to rewrite what began too early. Governments spend decades trying to fix the consequences (EDCOM 2, 2025).

There is good news, though it requires honesty to see it. The problem is fixable. Countries have done it. The path is neither glamorous nor quick. EDCOM 2 estimates it will take about ten years to repair systemic damage. That timeline may sound long, but it is realistic. Fixing foundations is slow work. It involves early intervention, fewer but deeper competencies, better teacher support, and the courage to stop pretending that promotion equals learning. It also requires clean governance. Corruption has a classroom shape. It looks like too many students, too few books, flooded rooms, and children falling through the cracks. That’s why accountability belongs in education reform. It is its quiet backbone.

The proposed 2026 education budget of ₱1.224 trillion and programs like ARAL signal seriousness, not miracles. Tutorials matter. Curriculum decongestion matters. But they only work if anchored in mastery, not compliance. A system that knows when to pause and adjust teaches the same thinking it hopes to see in students. It is the difference between finishing a syllabus and making sure learning actually happened.

Arguably, the EDCOM 2 data is not an accusation. It is a mirror. It asks whether we are willing to value foundations over appearances, depth over speed, and readiness over comfort. No teacher enjoys telling a student they need more time. No parent likes hearing it either. So the question shifts. Do we keep pushing children upward, or do we stop long enough to help them stand steady? No country has ever thrived on a weak foundation. Right now, ours is cracking. The choice is whether we quietly patch the walls or finally strengthen what holds everything up.

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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.