Behind every report card that says “passed,” there is a child who may still be struggling to read, to write, to understand. Yet year after year, we move them forward, not because they are ready, but because the system tells us we must.
In many Philippine classrooms, teachers quietly carry this burden. They see the learner who cannot yet form a sentence, the child who cannot solve basic problems, the student who is slowly falling behind. They know what should be done. They want to help. They want to intervene. But the system rarely gives them the time, the support, or the freedom to do so.
Pass rates must be high.
Failure rates must be low.
Statistics must look good.
So teachers are pushed to adjust the grades.
They are asked to transmute the scores.
They are told, gently or firmly, to promote.
And in this process, it is not only learners who are trapped, it is teachers too.
At first, it feels merciful. No child is retained. No parent is upset. No school is questioned. But mercy without learning is a fragile kind of kindness, and mercy without support becomes an unfair burden for educators.
Because the child does not stay a child forever.
The Grade 3 pupil who cannot read becomes a Grade 7 student who is ashamed to recite.
The high school learner who was never remediated becomes a college student who cannot cope.
And one day, that learner becomes a professional who holds a diploma, but not the skills behind it.
We then ask, “Why are our graduates unprepared?”
We ask, “Why do our professionals struggle?”
But the answer began years ago, in a classroom where a teacher knew the child was not ready—but was required to pass the child anyway.
Mass promotion does not only move students forward.
It moves problems forward.
It moves weaknesses forward.
It moves silence forward.
And perhaps the most painful truth is this:
We are not failing our learners by letting them repeat.
We are failing them by letting them pass without learning.
But we are also failing our teachers—by placing on their shoulders a decision that the system itself refuses to confront.
If we truly care for our children, we must also care for our teachers.
We must give them the authority to be honest, the support to remediate, and the courage, as a system, to slow down.
Because a passed student is not always a prepared student.
And a pressured teacher is not always a powerless one, if we choose to change.
And the future of a nation depends on the difference.