With the K to 12 Enhanced Basic Education Act now a law, it’s time to focus on action. No more excuses. As the so-called centerpiece of President Aquino’s administration, K to 12 must now live up to its promise of reforming basic education from the ground up.
Fellow Inquirer columnist Winnie Monsod was quite disturbed—nay, agitated—as we discussed the advance executive summary recently submitted by the National Economic and Development Authority (Neda) to the President, of its assessment on the controversial Aurora Pacific Economic Zone and Freeport Authority (Apeco).
The Migrante Sectoral Party chapter in New Zealand is calling on President Aquino to stop wasting time and start using government funds for the benefit of thousands of stranded Filipinos in Jeddah, who are awaiting immediate repatriation.
I imagine a mass serenade dedicated by thousands of Filipino “superold” veterans of World War II to President Aquino and his officials, regarding the long-unpaid Total Administrative Disability benefits mandated by Republic Act No. 7696 (An act amending certain sections of RA 6948 otherwise known as “An act standardizing and upgrading the benefits for military veterans and their dependents”). The serenade goes (with an old familiar tune) thus:
Three years ago President Aquino ran with the battle cry “Kung walang corrupt, walang mahirap” (If there is no corruption, there will be no poverty). It served as the cornerstone of his “daang matuwid” (straight path) platform of governance. Halfway into his term, the President has achieved much, including the stellar economic growth that has earned the country an investment-grade credit status from Fitch Ratings.
By some accounts, the National Statistical Coordination Board (NSCB) and its mother agency the National Economic and Development Authority (Neda) ruffled feathers in the Palace and the Cabinet with the way they announced the first semester 2012 poverty figures last week. Some even speculated that it may have cost Neda Secretary Arsi Balisacan his slot in the President’s delegation to the Asean meeting in Brunei, having dropped out of the list at the last minute.
“You can’t dull hunger by painting rice cakes,” says an Asian proverb. It explains the controversy sparked by the National Statistical Coordination Board’s latest poverty data.
Immediately after the May 2010 automated elections, protests were made by an accredited group of election observers composed of overseas Filipino professionals.
As it turns out, the startling proposal was merely a trial balloon, with an unusual twist: It was the proponent himself, Customs Commissioner Rozzano Rufino Biazon, who was on trial. Abolish the Bureau of Customs and start from scratch? “We might have to do that,” Biazon told Inquirer editors and reporters some two weeks ago.
Bizarre as it is, politicians running for local positions have come to accept it as part of the political reality: that in some remote Philippine communities, candidates must secure a clearance from armed illegal groups before they can enter an area and campaign. The permit to campaign is normally given in exchange for a cash “contribution” to the kilusan (movement), a cryptic reference to the armed struggle led by the Communist Party and the New People’s Army (NPA).
I went to a refreshing meeting the other day. Officers of the Management Association of the Philippines met with Public Works Secretary Rogelio “Babes” Singson.
Musing over the May elections, I’ve hoarded a lot of thoughts already. It would seem that these thoughts sprout from my coffee mug during holy hours at work. If these thoughts could all be tamed, I’d be writing a piece or two, trying hard to channel Conrado de Quiros. But I’m no De Quiros. I’m just a 22-year-old who speaks her mind from time to time, most conveniently in 140 characters, thanks to Wi-Fi.
