The noblest profession but ....
Last September, we celebrated teachers’ month. I have three sisters and a brother who are in the academe and they are all in government educational institutions.
I am proud of them.
Teaching, which is considered as the noblest profession, is not only a profession but a calling. It seems the Philippine state has a paradoxical relationship with public school teachers.
We see that it is love that fuels them. Seldom has one become a teacher for the promise of a glowing paycheck or a glamorous career. It’s papers upon papers. It’s a job one doesn’t clock out of; it does not end when the bell rings. Aside from checking exams and assigning homework, teachers have to do the work of raising kids they did not rear—they become second parents, overseeing the development of their students in the most formative periods of their lives.
In the Philippines, it is unfortunate that this vocation plays against a backdrop of the worst conditions: an immense and unending workload, an impossible morning commute, cramped classrooms, a counterproductive teacher-student ratio (which can be anywhere from 1:30 to 1:120, depending on where you are in the country; the ideal is 1:25)—in the blistering heat.
It’s a demanding job with little reward beyond the fulfillment teachers get from molding the next generation of leaders.
In fact, the starting salary for Teacher I, the lowest rank, is salary grade (SG) 11, or P20,179 monthly. The highest rank, Principal IV, is at SG 21, or P52,554. The regular teacher ranks (Teachers I to III) will only earn up to P24,224. However, there are many stories of teachers never being promoted to the next rank despite decades of teaching.
A monthly salary this modest necessitates another way to make ends meet: loans. True enough, in 2017, the accumulated debt of public school teachers reached P300 billion. That is an inconceivable weight to carry for a profession that only pays five-digit sums every month, especially in the increasingly difficult economic times in which we find ourselves.
In a lapse of arithmetic and judgment, the Department of Education (DepEd) found a way to add an exponential weight to this burden. Earlier this year, Department Order 5 (s. 2018) reinforced Republic Act 10964, imposing an “order of preference” in the new automatic payroll deductions system (APDS). Government obligations are to be paid first, loans from non-stock savings and loan association and mutual savings associations next, and loans from thrift banks and rural banks to be paid last. Even worse, this policy will be applied retroactively—meaning it will affect loans made even before this policy was implemented.
Instead of, at the very minimum, mitigating teachers’ financial difficulties, this will exacerbate teachers’ situations. They will have even less options to make ends meet. The salaries are already not attractive—now their employer has dictated what will happen to their money once they’ve earned it.
Now that teachers are robbed of economic freedom, those who pursue the vocation of teaching will be forced to contend with a question they have nobly set aside for so long: How can they provide for their families?
Earlier this year, DepEd also announced that it opened 75,242 teaching positions for the school year 2018 to 2019 in the hope that this will improve the teacher-student ratio and provide higher quality public education in the country. Policies like the order of preference in the APDS will do nothing to attract talent (in fact, it will deter talent), and will even be worse for the talent they already have.
For a country with a growing demand for teachers, the state seems to disregard their welfare.
The inflation rate is at 6.4 percent, and the effect is inescapable. Reviewing the APDS policy is imperative in ensuring that our teachers are taken care of so they can take care of our children. If we need teachers, then we have to put up with their needs as well.