Should the K-12 Curriculum Be Abolished?

*Dr. Rodolfo John Ortiz Teope, PhD, EdD, DM

Nelson Mandela once said, “Education is the most powerful weapon which you can use to change the world.” Those words burn in my heart every time I face a classroom. For us educators, education is not just a profession—it is our life’s calling, our offering to the next generation. And yet, with the K-12 curriculum, I feel that our weapon has been blunted, our promise betrayed.

I speak not as a distant observer but as someone who has seen the pain up close: the tears of students, the sacrifices of parents, the disillusionment of teachers. K-12 was meant to make Filipino students globally competitive. It was meant to empower them to find jobs after Grade 12 or to be better prepared for college. But after all these years, I ask: has it really delivered? The honest answer is no.

I cannot count the number of times I’ve seen parents in despair, their shoulders bent by the weight of two additional years of schooling. Imagine a vendor in the palengke or a tricycle driver struggling just to keep their child enrolled. Those extra years are not just about books and uniforms; they are about lost meals, unpaid debts, and broken dreams. Even President Marcos admitted in 2024 that K-12 “has not effectively improved the employability of Filipino students,” leaving poor families with more cost but little return (Philippine News Agency, 2024).

Then I look at the students. Do they come out of Grade 12 more prepared? The results say otherwise. The 2024 National Achievement Test revealed that Grade 12 students remain at Low Proficiency levels in every track and region (Explained.ph, 2024). Ten years of investment, yet our young people still struggle with basics. Their faces tell the story better than statistics—the blank stares during exams, the shaky confidence, the hopeless whispers of “Kaya ko ba talaga?”

K-12 promised that our graduates would be “job-ready.” But when I sit down with my former students, many confess that they feel unprepared, even ashamed, to apply for jobs. Yes, the 2024 PBEd Jobs Outlook reported that 87% of employers are now open to hiring SHS graduates (Makati Business Club, 2024). Yet the reality is more brutal: without confidence, without real-world skills, many end up neither in college nor in stable employment. They are caught in what I call “the gap of false hope.”

Here’s the cruel irony: many of the subjects in Grades 11 and 12 are repeated once students enter college. I’ve seen syllabi; I’ve compared lessons. What we force them to endure in Senior High is simply recycled as General Education subjects in the university. Even students themselves complain—it’s like watching the same movie twice, only this time, they pay even more for the ticket (Inquirer.net, 2024).

Is it any wonder that in 2025, more than half of UP Diliman’s graduating class received Latin honors? The university itself revealed that 61% of its graduates were Latin honor awardees—a number so high it forced a review of their grading system (Filipino Times, 2025). When content is duplicated and mastery is inflated, honors lose their meaning.

And now, with Artificial Intelligence shaping the world, how can we justify this kind of rote education? A lesson that can be generated in seconds by AI is not a lesson that prepares a child for life. What we need are thinkers, creators, and patriots—students who can build, question, solve, and serve. With AI around us, repeating the same theories in Grades 11 and 12 is like teaching children to use a typewriter in the age of quantum computers.

If we abolish K-12 in its current form, it is not regression. It is courage. We must focus instead on hands-on application, skill development, and Filipino patriotism. Students should be out in communities, solving real problems, building real projects. Whether through TESDA certifications, local industries, or entrepreneurship programs, our students must learn to do, not just to memorize. Most of all, our youth must learn to love this nation—not just in song, but in service. An education that produces brilliant minds without Filipino hearts is a betrayal.

As an academician for for than three decade that consumes many chalk in hand, I know the truth: this curriculum does not honor them. It wastes their time, burdens their families, and blinds their future. The K-12 program was a noble dream, but dreams must bow to reality. Let us abolish it—not to take away, but to give back. Not to shorten learning, but to deepen it. Not to abandon our youth, but to finally equip them. If we succeed, then education will once more become what it was always meant to be: the weapon to change the world.

References

Explained.ph. (2024). 2024 Grade 12 NAT results show students at low proficiency levels. https://www.explained.ph/.../nat-2024-results-show-low...

Filipino Times. (2025). 61% of UP Diliman’s 2024–2025 graduates received Latin honors.

Inquirer.net. (2024). Calls mount to review Senior High School program amid overlaps with college subjects.

Makati Business Club. (2024). Employers willing to hire SHS graduates increased significantly. https://mbc.com.ph/.../statement-of-support-for-the...

Philippine News Agency. (2024). President Marcos said K-12 has not effectively improved the employability of Filipino students. https://www.pna.gov.ph/.../905-challenges-to-improving...

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 *About the author:

Dr. Rodolfo “John” Ortiz Teope is a distinguished Filipino academic, public intellectual, and advocate for civic education and public safety, whose work spans local academies and international security circles. With a career rooted in teaching, research, policy, and public engagement, he bridges theory and practice by making meaningful contributions to academic discourse, civic education, and public policy. Dr. Teope is widely respected for his critical scholarship in education, management, economics, doctrine development, and public safety; his grassroots involvement in government and non-government organizations; his influential media presence promoting democratic values and civic consciousness; and his ethical leadership grounded in Filipino nationalism and public service. As a true public intellectual, he exemplifies how research, advocacy, governance, and education can work together in pursuit of the nation’s moral and civic mission.

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What I Threw Away in 2025—and What I Am Finally Ready to Receive in 2026

*Dr. Rodolfo John Ortiz Teope, PhD, EdD, DM

There comes a quiet moment at the end of every year when we are left alone with ourselves—no applause, no noise, no excuses. Just truth. For me, that moment in 2025 felt like standing beside a garbage bin filled not with waste, but with memories, choices, and people I once tried so hard to keep. One by one, I let them go.

Into that bin went Fake Love—the kind that speaks loudly in public but disappears when silence is needed most. Love that demanded sacrifice yet offered none in return. Love that felt conditional, transactional, and heavy. I realized that love that drains your soul is not love at all—it is survival disguised as affection.

Next, I threw away Bad Relationships. The ones that kept me small so others could feel tall. The ones that thrived on control, manipulation, and emotional exhaustion. Relationships that taught me to doubt myself instead of grow. I learned, painfully but clearly, that not every bond is meant to be preserved—some are meant to be released so healing can begin.

I did not hesitate to discard Fake Friends. Those who clapped only when it benefited them, who vanished when integrity mattered, and who stayed close not out of loyalty but convenience. Friendship should be a refuge, not a battlefield. Anyone who celebrates your fall more than your rise does not deserve a seat at your table.

Into the same bin went Liars—people who mastered the art of truth-twisting, half-stories, and convenient amnesia. Lies corrode trust slowly, silently, until nothing solid remains. I chose honesty over comfort, clarity over illusion.

Finally, I threw away Drama—the unnecessary noise, the manufactured conflicts, the emotional chaos that pretended to be excitement. I grew tired of confusion masquerading as passion and turmoil being sold as normal. Peace, I realized, is not boring. Peace is freedom.

By the end of 2025, the garbage was full—but my heart was finally light.

Now, standing at the doorway of 2026, I open my hands.

I am ready to receive Abundance—not just in wealth, but in purpose, time, wisdom, and grace. I welcome Money not as an idol, but as a tool to build, to help, to create, and to give back with dignity. I embrace Opportunities that align with my values, not ones that demand I betray myself to succeed.

I receive Blessings—seen and unseen, answered and delayed—trusting that what arrives does so in the right season. I choose Happiness that is quiet, deep, and rooted, not loud, performative, or borrowed from others.

Most of all, I open my life to Authentic Love—the kind that stays when it is inconvenient, that grows in truth, that heals instead of harms. And I welcome Real Friends—those who tell me the truth even when it is hard, who stand beside me without needing applause, and who walk with me not for advantage, but for connection.

2026 is not just a new year for me.

It is a new standard.

I no longer beg for what should be given freely.

I no longer chase what costs me my peace.

I no longer tolerate what poisons my spirit.

I have emptied the garbage.

And now, I am ready to receive.

____________________________________

 *About the author:

Dr. Rodolfo “John” Ortiz Teope is a distinguished Filipino academic, public intellectual, and advocate for civic education and public safety, whose work spans local academies and international security circles. With a career rooted in teaching, research, policy, and public engagement, he bridges theory and practice by making meaningful contributions to academic discourse, civic education, and public policy. Dr. Teope is widely respected for his critical scholarship in education, management, economics, doctrine development, and public safety; his grassroots involvement in government and non-government organizations; his influential media presence promoting democratic values and civic consciousness; and his ethical leadership grounded in Filipino nationalism and public service. As a true public intellectual, he exemplifies how research, advocacy, governance, and education can work together in pursuit of the nation’s moral and civic mission.

VIEWS: 444K

 

The Penumbra of Paid-For Journalism: Narratives, Power, and the Quiet War for the Filipino Mind

*Dr. Rodolfo John Ortiz Teope, PhD, EdD, DM

There are nights when I think about journalism the way one thinks about a childhood belief—something once pure, once trusted, something that allowed us to sleep believing that someone, somewhere, was guarding the truth. Journalism, in its truest sense, was never meant to be heroic. It was meant to be faithful. Faithful to facts. Faithful to the people. And perhaps that is why its slow, documented betrayal does not feel like outrage, but like grief.

In the 1970s, the call for journalism in aid of development arrived wrapped in hope. Nation-building. Responsibility. Progress. These words sounded gentle to a country still learning how to speak after years of struggle. Yet validated historical accounts show how quickly that hope was taken hostage. Power discovered that controlling narratives was easier than confronting injustice. Development became the excuse. Control became the habit. Journalism, instead of being a lamp that exposed darkness, was turned into a dimmer—allowing only as much light as authority was willing to tolerate.

The Marcos years revealed this arrangement without subtlety. Media histories and archived publications consistently record how the press openly favored the regime, how praise flowed freely while criticism was suffocated. What aches more deeply is not that this happened under authoritarian rule, but that when the dictatorship formally ended, the culture it nurtured did not vanish. The uniforms disappeared. The censorship offices closed. But the transactional mindset survived, quietly adapting to a freer vocabulary.

Investigative reports and media ethics studies later validated what many had long suspected. Journalism was not merely pressured; it was incentivized. Envelopes of cash. Gifts disguised as tokens of appreciation. Favors exchanged for favorable coverage. Stories delayed, softened, reframed, or quietly buried. These were not isolated moral lapses. They were methods—repeated often enough to become routine. The journalist, once imagined as a witness for the public, was slowly recast as a broker of narratives.

Over time, these practices even acquired names, almost playful, as if labeling them could dull their cruelty. There was AC-DC journalism, where a person was attacked today to collect money from a rival and defended tomorrow for another fee. There was ATM journalism, where payoffs moved silently through bank accounts, cleaner than envelopes but just as corrosive. There was blood money, paid to ensure that certain truths never reached the public alive. There was envelopmental journalism, a bitter distortion of developmental ideals into a shield for corruption. And there was intelligentsia, where journalists on sensitive beats quietly shared in protection money alongside the very institutions they were meant to scrutinize.

Some insisted this culture existed only because journalists were underpaid. But documented cases revealed a harsher truth. Even well-paid practitioners participated. This was not hunger. It was habituation. Integrity did not collapse in one dramatic scandal. It eroded slowly, grain by grain, until compromise felt practical and principle felt inconvenient—almost naïve.

Then came the digital age, carrying with it the promise of liberation. Online platforms, blogs, and social media were celebrated as tools that would finally democratize truth. No more gatekeepers. No more monopolies of narrative. Everyone could speak. Everyone could publish. For a moment, it felt as though journalism had been given a second life. But validated media studies show that the old corruption did not disappear. It evolved.

In the digital space, paid-for journalism multiplied and disguised itself more effectively. Sponsored content blended seamlessly into news. Advertorials adopted the tone of reporting. Algorithms replaced editors, and engagement replaced ethics. Speed became more valuable than verification. In this environment, fake news did not merely emerge—it flourished.

Fake news was not born in a vacuum. It grew from the same soil as paid-for journalism: the monetization of attention and the erosion of accountability. Fabricated stories, manipulated images, half-truths, and emotionally charged lies spread not because they were true, but because they were profitable and politically useful. Troll farms, coordinated disinformation networks, and paid amplification—now widely documented—turned falsehood into a scalable political weapon.

And then came the rise of paid vloggers and social media influencers, perhaps the most emotionally disarming actors in this entire ecosystem. Unlike journalists, they do not claim objectivity. Unlike editors, they are not bound by institutional memory. They speak casually, intimately, as friends speaking to friends. Scripts are framed as personal reflections. Talking points are delivered as jokes, rants, or life stories. Disclosures, if they exist at all, are vague, buried, or deliberately confusing.

In this space, corruption becomes harder to detect. A journalist selling a story still carries the weight of professional betrayal. A paid influencer selling a narrative can always say, “Opinion ko lang ’yan.” And yet the impact is often greater. Millions listen. Millions trust. And millions are moved—not by verified facts, but by curated emotion. Lies no longer feel imposed; they feel shared.

Young people now learn politics not from newspapers or broadcasts, but from short videos, livestreams, and algorithm-fed timelines. In this emotional economy, truth does not compete fairly. It competes with entertainment, loyalty, identity, and outrage. Media literacy struggles to keep pace with platform culture.

All of this feeds directly into the present war on narratives between the Administration and the Opposition—a war no longer fought primarily in Congress or courtrooms, but in timelines, headlines, livestreams, and comment sections. Governance has become storytelling. Opposition has become counter-storytelling. Each side constructs its own version of reality, complete with heroes, villains, and moral absolutes.

The Administration speaks of stability, continuity, recovery, and unity. The Opposition speaks of accountability, betrayal, injustice, and moral urgency. Each side frames events strategically. The same policy becomes progress or failure depending on who narrates it. Silence becomes tactical. Timing becomes everything. In this war, traditional journalism, fake news networks, paid vloggers, and influencers all become foot soldiers.

What makes this war especially cruel is that the public is no longer just an audience—it has been conscripted. Citizens are pressured to choose narratives as if choosing sides in a family feud. To question one’s own camp is betrayal. To acknowledge complexity is weakness. The war on narratives thrives on emotion because emotion travels faster than nuance.

Disinformation here is not always meant to convince. Often, it is meant to exhaust. To confuse. To make people stop caring. In a tired public, even false calm feels like relief. Patriotism is invoked to silence criticism. Reform is invoked to justify chaos. Integrity is claimed loudly while manipulation continues quietly underneath.

As an educator, I see the cost of this war in classrooms and conversations. Students argue passionately, but often from scripts they did not write. Opinions arrive pre-packaged, complete with hashtags and talking points. Critical thinking struggles to breathe when narratives demand immediate allegiance.

As a citizen, the sadness runs deeper. Governance becomes secondary to optics. Opposition becomes performance. The nation’s real problems—poverty, corruption, insecurity—fade into background noise behind louder storytelling battles. When narratives replace solutions, suffering becomes just another talking point.

Until that remembering happens, the penumbra of paid-for journalism will not simply hover—it will settle. It will cling to our institutions, our conversations, even our private thoughts. It will blur the line between what is real and what is merely repeated. And in that half-light, a nation can slowly lose its sense of direction without ever realizing it has gone astray.

This is no longer just a failure of media. It is a test of conscience. Every journalist who chooses silence over truth. Every influencer who trades integrity for reach. Every citizen who shares a lie because it flatters their anger or confirms their loyalty becomes part of the penumbra. No one remains untouched. No one remains innocent by mere distance.

The most painful truth is this: democracy does not collapse in darkness. It collapses in dim light—when people can still see, but no longer clearly enough to care. When outrage replaces reflection. When narratives feel safer than facts. When comfort is chosen over courage.

The challenge before us is not abstract. It is deeply personal. To journalists: remember why you first held the pen. To content creators and influencers: remember that intimacy is power, and power without responsibility is abuse. To citizens: remember that sharing is not neutral, and silence is never empty.

Truth does not ask for loyalty. It asks for courage.

The penumbra can only exist when we allow it. We can choose to step forward—into clarity, into discomfort, into honesty—or we can remain in the soft darkness, applauding stories that soothe us while the nation quietly fractures.

History will not ask which narrative we followed.

It will ask whether, when truth still had a voice, we chose to listen.

And that question, sooner or later, will be asked of all of us.

_____

 *About the author:

Dr. Rodolfo “John” Ortiz Teope is a distinguished Filipino academic, public intellectual, and advocate for civic education and public safety, whose work spans local academies and international security circles. With a career rooted in teaching, research, policy, and public engagement, he bridges theory and practice by making meaningful contributions to academic discourse, civic education, and public policy. Dr. Teope is widely respected for his critical scholarship in education, management, economics, doctrine development, and public safety; his grassroots involvement in government and non-government organizations; his influential media presence promoting democratic values and civic consciousness; and his ethical leadership grounded in Filipino nationalism and public service. As a true public intellectual, he exemplifies how research, advocacy, governance, and education can work together in pursuit of the nation’s moral and civic mission.

VIEWS: 92K