Help when we need it
IT’S BEEN a long journey to get to where I am.
To be among the freshmen of the University of the Philippines College of Law is a blessing. There were moments when it seemed as though setting foot in the famed corridors of Malcolm Hall, where the heroes and villains of Philippine society once walked, was an impossible dream. Today, I find myself in a room filled with brilliant young minds who are products of top universities, a room filled with potentials, talents and skills that would certainly impact the nation someday. But this is not the room I want to write about.
Seven years ago, I also sat in a room filled with dreamers who wanted to achieve something great—not for the nation but for our respective families.
Despite our different backgrounds and stories, we had something in common. We were all out-of-school youth and beneficiaries of the Department of Education’s Alternative Learning System. Apart from the time we spent studying for the diagnostic test, we spent each day talking about our dreams and goals and how we would all pass and earn that coveted high school diploma so we could get on with our lives.
Being on the receiving end of a law that allows educational institutions to withhold academic credentials for nonpayment of tuition, I told them I wanted to be a lawyer. One classmate shared how she badly needed a diploma so her aunt could get her a job as a dancer overseas; another wanted to be a seaman. We had a good laugh out of our dreams. How ridiculous everything sounded back then.
It was August 2008 when we received our diplomas signed by then Education Secretary Jesli Lapus. The most important part of it said: “The holder of this diploma possesses all the skills and competencies of a secondary level graduate.”
We were filled with happiness as we all knew what this piece of paper meant. For some of us it meant a chance to pursue a college education, for others it was a qualification for minimum-wage work, and for still others it was an opportunity to find a job abroad. It has been seven long years since we parted ways, and yet every day I think about how many of us are actually a step closer to reaching our dreams.
Out of the thousands of out-of-school youth that the Alternative Learning System graduates every year, only a few are able to make the most out of it. The truth is, the program has failed to recognize that contrary to what our diplomas claim, we did not possess the same skills and competencies of those who finished four years of high school. I went to college with close to zero knowledge in chemistry, physics and algebra, minor subjects in almost any degree. I managed to survive these subjects and ultimately college because of a strong support system of family and friends. This support system is uncommon among out-of-school youth in the Philippines. In fact, most of my classmates came from broken families and depressed neighborhoods.
This is where I believe that the Alternative Learning System and the Department of Education must improve. They must go beyond merely giving diplomas to out-of-school youth; they must focus on providing the necessary skills and implementing a strong support system to enable their grantees to break past societal barriers and to make the most out of this opportunity to start anew.
If there is one thing I learned in life and from the years I spent out of school, it’s the fact that life will always be what we make of it, but to get somewhere, we need all the help we can get.
David Padin, 25, graduated with a degree in political science from the University of San Carlos-Cebu and is now a freshman at the UP College of Law. He is a cofounder of JumpStart.ph, an organization that provides opportunities for out-of-school youth to pursue a college degree.
