Owning the K-12 crisis: Credit claimed, blame disowned

With the unexpected return of Senator-elect Bam Aquino to the Senate, public attention has once again turned to one of the most impactful education policies in recent history: the Universal Access to Quality Tertiary Education Act (RA 10931).

As the principal author of the law, Aquino fought hard for free college tuition at state universities and colleges—a reform that was initially met with resistance from the Duterte administration.

Ironically, once the law passed and became wildly popular, it was Duterte supporters themselves who rushed to take credit. Suddenly, Aquino’s critics were in every photo op, press release and campus tarpaulin, proudly claiming they delivered free college to the Filipino people.

It was classic political opportunism—celebrating success once the hard work was done. But this episode also highlights a deeper problem in our political culture: the eagerness to grab credit for wins, but the utter absence of accountability when things go wrong.

Nowhere is this more glaring than in the case of our failing basic education system, particularly the disastrous rollout and implementation of the Senior High School (SHS) program under the K to 12 curriculum.

SHS was promised as a game-changing reform during the Aquino administration, offering students three clear pathways: employment, entrepreneurship, or further education. The same resistance was experienced from the Aquino administration when it pushed for the K-12 curriculum.

It was supposed to equip graduates with life skills and credentials that would make them competitive in the workforce or better prepared for college. But in reality, many SHS graduates found themselves neither employable nor fully ready for higher education.

Employers often did not recognize their National Certificates, and those who pursued college found that SHS had not equipped them with the foundational academics and practical skills they needed.

What was intended to be an empowering reform has become, for many, an expensive detour. Understanding the norms and culture of getting a degree or diploma for every family member who belongs to an underprivileged and marginalized community is another story. 

Students in the technical-vocational-livelihood (TVL) track were among the most affected. They were promised employability after graduation, but due to a lack of proper facilities, weak industry linkages, and inadequate training, those promises often fell flat.

In short, the system has limited capacity and is not yet ready to fulfill the reform. Meanwhile, students in the general academic strand (GAS) were funneled into vague course clusters that lacked depth and direction.

Teachers were haphazardly picked up without proper qualifications and preparation, and the story of the mismatch began to disrupt quality education.

Teachers were forced to undergo mass training, reskilling, and retooling to teach unfamiliar subjects with minimal time for preparation, often without pedagogy, textbooks, or teaching guides. Many of them were just one page away from their students.

The curriculum was rolled out faster than teachers and schools could adjust, resulting in confusion, burnout, demotivation, and frustration on all sides.

What makes this even more troubling is the fact that the K to 12 reform was heavily funded. Furthermore, numerous education experts joined the initiative to demonstrate their expertise in curriculum design and development.

Billions of pesos were invested in the transition, with additional loans from the World Bank and grants from other international agencies, foundations, and institutions meant to support curriculum development, teacher training, and classroom resources.

This influx of money should have helped narrow the gaps in capacity and implementation. Instead, despite the financial support, the quality of education in the past decade declined.

Filipino students performed poorly in basic literacies (i.e., reading, math, and science), based on the National Achievement Test, not to mention the Programme for International Student Assessment (PISA), ranking among the lowest globally in reading, math, and science, where contextualization was highly contested by many, but all of which reflect a downward trend.

The learning crisis is substantial and cannot be mitigated by any assessment instrument.

Where did all the money go? Who evaluated the readiness of schools before rolling out SHS? Who assessed the qualifications and credentials of teachers before rolling out SHS? Who designed the curriculum and approved its components? Who received the contracts for curriculum mapping, training modules, and teacher workshops? There has been no clear answer.

Who conducted the public audit? Who conducted the legislative review? No admission of error from any agency or policymaker involved, but they end up with multiple finger-pointing on who is to blame. The same people who celebrated K to 12 as a legacy reform have vanished from the public conversation, as if none of them had anything to do with how it turned out.

This silence stands in stark contrast to the media blitz and political grandstanding that followed the passage of the free college law. It shows a troubling double standard: when a policy works, everyone wants a slice of the glory; when a policy fails, everyone disappears.

Such a culture erodes public trust. It allows leaders to be visible only when it’s convenient, never when it’s necessary. It lets them claim credit for what goes right and shift blame—or simply stay quiet—when things go wrong. Indeed, the absence of public accountability, responsibility, and transparency exposes a leadership crisis.

Students, teachers and parents are left to deal with the consequences. Families spent more money and time on two extra years of high school, believing the promise that it would lead to better opportunities. Instead, many of them are asking, Was it all worth it?

Teachers, the very backbone of the reform, feel exhausted and unsupported. Many were not properly given the resources they needed to meet the expectations placed on them. Schools in remote, far-flung, and conflict areas still lack science labs, teaching and learning materials, internet connectivity, access to technological facilities, or even enough classrooms. Many are suffering from hunger and malnutrition. 

Meanwhile, the rest of the education system is still reeling from the damage. Remedial programs are now being introduced to address the gaps left by SHS.

Some policymakers are floating proposals for another curriculum revision and even removing the added SHS curriculum. Yet there is no serious reckoning with the root cause of these problems: poor assessment, mediocre planning, rushed implementation, and the absence of transparent and meaningful consultation with the people on the ground.

Ultimately, the powerless, the marginalized, and the unheard suffer the most. The reform that promised empowerment has, in too many cases, delivered disillusionment.

It’s easy to laugh at the memes and sarcastic posts that ask, “Where are the heroes now?” However, beneath the humor lies profound frustration, reflecting a growing realization that the public has been neglected and down, yet again, by empty promises and flashy policies that persist in thriving. 

Senator-elect Bam Aquino’s return reminds us that good policy often involves a complicated political and economic journey. It also shows that history tends to remember who truly fought for the people.

If politicians are so eager to attach their names to successful programs like free tertiary education, they should also have the integrity to show up when their policies fail. Leadership is not just about being visible when the applause comes. It’s about being accountable when the system breaks down.

Real reform begins with honesty and integrity. Until our leaders learn to accept accountability and responsibility as quickly as they take credit, our education system will continue to fail the very Filipino it claims to serve.

Arlyne C. Marasigan is a professor of Educational Leadership and Management, while Allen A. Espinosa is a professor of Science Education at the College of Advanced Studies. Both are fellows at the Educational Policy Research and Development Office of the Philippine Normal University. They may be reached at [email protected] and [email protected], respectively. The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the Philippine Normal University.