Walls That Teach

By Herman M. Lagon

Some classrooms stay with you not because of their tech or sleek furniture, but because they feel alive. In one of the humblest I ever visited—no aircon, no smartboards—the walls told the story. There were hand-drawn posters, taped-up maps, portraits of Filipino heroes with student captions, and cardboard-framed artworks. It was a space made with care and heart. That kind of classroom is not rare because schools lack creativity—it is rare because policy got in the way.

This is why DepEd’s quiet reversal of the “bare walls” policy matters. Secretary Sonny Angara recently confirmed they are no longer strictly enforcing DepEd Order No. 21. The earlier policy, imposed under the previous administration, banned even educational visuals and made classrooms feel clinical. Angara said that if visuals help learners and teachers, they should be allowed. This tantum quantum-driven shift is not just about aesthetics—it is about restoring sense and trust.

Classroom walls are not fluff. They are part of the teaching. In education circles, this is called the “third teacher”—the idea that the learning space itself teaches. Research by Barrett et al. (2013) in the UK found that classroom design can influence up to 16% of academic progress. That includes lighting, layout, and, yes, wall displays.

In public schools where conditions are already tough—crowded, hot, under-resourced—teachers still find ways. Some repurpose tarps to create learning corners. Others print and post math charts and affirming cards. For kids without books, a diagram, a quote, or a word wall is sometimes all they have to anchor a lesson. A homemade science collage or a class timeline can reach where textbooks fall short.

Visuals do more than inform—they clarify. Houts et al. (2014) showed that pairing text with visuals boosts understanding, especially among young learners. In classrooms with mixed reading abilities, a water cycle diagram or a labeled Philippine map does more work than a paragraph ever could. Dual coding theory by Allan Paivio (1986) supports this: engaging both visual and verbal systems improves memory.

But visuals also make students feel seen. A room that displays their work and ideas gives a sense of belonging. In schools where many learners share a single pencil or skip meals, this emotional safety is priceless. A 2021 study in Frontiers in Psychology even showed how sensory-friendly visuals help neurodivergent students reduce anxiety and manage transitions. This is practical kindness in action.

Some worry about clutter, and rightly so. Fisher, Godwin, and Seltman (2014) warned about overstimulation. But the answer is not to erase walls. It is to curate with care. When visuals are tied to lessons, updated regularly, and reflect student input, they focus rather than distract. That is not clutter. That is intention.

Equity must be part of this conversation. The goal is not Pinterest-perfect classrooms. Some walls will have printouts; others, hand-drawn charts. What matters is that they serve the learners who see them. Let us not turn permission into pressure.

In the spirit of bayanihan, communities across the country join hands every Brigada Eskwela to make classrooms more inviting. The visual ban undercut this goodwill. Lifting it honors not just teachers but also the volunteers, parents, and students who helped build those learning spaces. It welcomes their hands back in.

Let us also be realistic. Not all teachers have time or training to design learning walls. DepEd must do more than lift a ban. It must guide. Sample materials, templates, or simple workshops could go a long way. This is a moment to empower, not just permit.

A classroom should feel like it belongs to its learners. Walls filled with relevant, respectful visuals help make that happen. As the system faces bigger battles—from literacy gaps to overloaded classrooms—let us not ignore the power of something as simple as a well-placed poster. The walls have been too quiet for too long. It is time to let them speak—with purpose, with care, and with the learners in mind.

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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.