Why scrapping senior high is educational malpractice

Senate Bill No. 3001, filed by Sen. Jinggoy Estrada, seeks to revert the Philippine education system to the old 10-year cycle, effectively abolishing Grades 11 and 12 under the K to 12 program.

The bill claims SHS has failed to improve learning outcomes and has merely imposed additional burdens on students and families.

But this sweeping conclusion glosses over the complexity of reform and risks dismantling one of the most globally aligned and forward-looking shifts in Philippine education in decades.

Downplaying the frustrations surrounding SHS ignores how the program has been marred not just by implementation flaws but also by profiteering, silent complicity and ethical lapses—even among educators who once championed it.

Public dissatisfaction, reflected in recent surveys, reveals not only unmet promises of college or job readiness, but growing distrust in the so-called “experts” behind a congested curriculum, mismatched strands and poorly resourced schools.

Treating these problems as issues for abstract reflection rather than direct action only turns critique into a shield for inaction. The real failure is not the concept of SHS, but the persistent lack of leadership to fully invest in and sustain the infrastructure—both physical and systemic—that it requires.

This includes not only buildings and teacher training but also the critical linkages with industries expected to absorb graduates. The absence of that alignment reflects a deeper crisis in governance and vision. Beyond policy rationale, the program represents a massive public and private investment that cannot be discarded lightly.

Scrapping SHS wholesale is a regressive move disguised as reform. Legislated in 2013, K to 12 was rooted in both national and global imperatives.

It aligned Philippine education with international standards, responded to the mismatch between our graduates and global labor markets, and created a space for more specialized, career-oriented learning between high school and tertiary or technical education.

Estrada’s bill cuts this bridge and leaves students—especially those who don’t proceed to college—adrift in an even more precarious landscape.

Despite this role, critics argue that SHS didn’t deliver on its promise of job readiness. But SHS was never meant to guarantee employment; it was designed to equip students with basic competencies for either higher education or work.

In a country where youth unemployment stems from systemic economic failures—contractualization, poor job creation and weak education-labor linkages—it is dishonest to place the blame on education reforms alone. Repealing SHS distracts from these deeper structural issues and ultimately undermines the skills and employability of future generations.

Removing SHS is not a neutral act—it is a reckless disruption. Both government and private institutions invested billions in facilities, teacher hiring, curriculum development and assessments.

Teachers underwent extensive training to teach SHS strands, many of which required specialized labs, equipment and internship programs.

Erasing the program wastes those resources, displaces teachers, and throws students and schools into disarray. The very incoherence that K to 12 sought to fix would return—only now with more disillusionment and distrust.

The bill argues that eliminating SHS would ease the financial burden on families. But this was the very problem SHS aimed to address. Studies, including one from UNESCO, found that additional years of schooling could boost employability by up to 50%.

SHS was introduced not as a burden but as a strategic investment to break intergenerational poverty through better preparation for work or further study.

Repealing it under the pretense of economic relief erases that long-term vision. For many who cannot afford college, SHS offers their only opportunity to gain vocational skills and certification. Taking that away doesn’t lift their burden—it denies them a future.

The claim that a 10-year basic education is “enough” is both outdated and dangerous. The Philippines was one of the last countries to adopt a 12-year system. To abandon it now, barely a decade in, is to reaffirm a short-sighted, insular view of education that ignores 21st-century realities and isolates our youth from global standards.

Worse, the bill reflects a deeper habit in Philippine policymaking: the urge to reverse rather than reform. Public dissatisfaction has been weaponized in lieu of serious evidence-based evaluation. There is a glaring absence of national studies assessing SHS outcomes or impact—only perception surveys and anecdotal frustrations.

In this context, Estrada’s bill reads less like reform and more like a political retreat dressed up as responsiveness. The same cyclical reversal plagued past reforms—from language policy to science education.

Instead of confronting the structural gaps that weakened SHS—underfunding, uneven implementation, and lack of accountability—this bill proposes erasure. It is easier to tear down than to fix, but that ease comes at the cost of our national progress.

The focus of legislation should be on making SHS work—not abandoning it. This means reviewing and revising the curriculum, scaling up teacher development, investing more equitably in underresourced schools, and building real partnerships with industry to ensure that SHS graduates have meaningful pathways forward.

It also means addressing institutional weaknesses that persist regardless of grade level: bloated bureaucracy, misaligned priorities, and corruption that diverts resources away from actual learning needs.

Estrada’s bill is also a reminder of how easily public frustration is mistaken for good policy. But leadership demands more than just echoing popular sentiment.

It requires holding steady to reforms that may not yield immediate results but are essential for long-term national development. The work of transformation is slow, uneven, and full of setbacks—but abandoning it halfway is not an act of realism; it is an act of failure.

If we repeal SHS now, what do we tell the thousands of students currently enrolled? What do we say to the teachers who adapted, trained, and built new programs?

To the public who supported the vision of aligning Philippine education with the rest of the world? We send the message that we cannot commit to anything beyond one administration. That we abandon complexity for quick fixes. That we value applause over integrity.

Yes, Philippine education is in crisis. But the crisis is not how long students stay in school. The real crisis lies in weak governance, political shortsightedness and the misuse of resources—including the diversion of education budgets toward unaccountable spending, like confidential funds.

None of these will be solved by Senate Bill No. 3001. In fact, it will deepen them—by dismantling a reform whose outcomes are only beginning to surface. Setbacks are part of transformation. They are not reasons to surrender.

To repeal SHS now is not to correct a mistake. It is to abandon a generation mid-journey. It is not reform—it is retreat. And our learners, teachers and future deserve far better.

Allen A. Espinosa and Arlyne C. Marasigan are professors and fellows at the Educational Policy Research and Development Office; Levi E. Elipane is associate professor and deputy dean of the College of Advanced Studies of the Philippine Normal University Manila; and Leah Amor S. Cortez is associate professor at the Faculty of Science, Technology, and Mathematics and executive director and provost of the Philippine Normal University South Luzon. They may be reached at [email protected], [email protected], [email protected] and [email protected], respectively. The views expressed here are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the official position of the University.