Alternative education: The poor’s way out of illiteracy and ignorance

MANILA, Philippines - In the heat of summer, Marcie Omilan (not her real name) wipes away the thick beads of sweat that run down her face as she stands in class, reciting the alphabet. She has been in class for more than a year, and running through the alphabet is easy. But she is not six years old: she is 64. Were it not for Sagip Dunong (Saving Education), a Catholic Church-run alternative learning system (ALS) for poor and less-educated residents in Dasmariñas, Cavite, Omilan says she would have never gone back to school. The last time Omilan was in class was 53 years ago when she enrolled in a public elementary school in her hometown of Aroroy in Masbate. But she never even made it through Grade 1. The physical challenge of just getting an education was simply too great: “Alas kuwatro pa lang ng umaga, gising na ako. Apat na kilometro ang lalakarin ko at tatlong ilog ang dadaanan ko bago ako makarating sa paaralan (I had to wake up at 4 am, walk three kilometers and forge three rivers before I even got to school)." Life did not get any better after she quit school. Omilan had to leave home to seek work as a domestic helper and before the age of 18 she was already married with three children. Her husband continually beat her yet 20 years passed before she plucked up enough courage to take her children and leave. All those years, she was working as a housemaid. She still is. Omilan admits that her life was made even harsher because she was illiterate. “I was often insulted. People laughed at me because I couldn’t read or write," she said. While of an age where her career prospects are extremely limited, Omilan is determined to finish elementary school at least. “I want to teach my grandchildren to help make up for all those times I didn’t help my own children with their homework," she said in her native tongue. Like her, her three children failed to make it beyond elementary level. Omilan is just one of about twenty students in her class who are categorized as having ‘zero education’. Like her, most, if not all, of her classmates live a hard and daunting life. One is a 19-year-old seeking a new chance after a four-year-term in prison. Another is an 18 year-old boy who gave up on his own education so he could go work in a slaughterhouse, feed his family and send his siblings to school. Omilan and the rest of her classmates are among the four million Filipinos judged to be illiterate according to a 2003 Functional Literacy and Mass Media Survey of 10 to 64 year-olds. They also count among the 16 million Filipinos aged 16 and older who have not finished basic education comprising elementary and high school. According to the Department of Education (DepEd), they constitute almost one fifth of the country’s entire population. Through Sagip Dunong, Omilan alongside other adults and children are given a second chance at education. DepEd provides the curriculum and supervises the whole program. The schedule of teaching is organized to match the needs of the students, many of whom struggle to hold down day jobs to put food on the table for their families. Teaching them is both tough and fulfilling according to Mary Jane Gonzaga, one of the only two teachers helping around 200 students in the program. It is not just about leading lessons in class, she says. It is also about being part counselor and mentor, helping them set goals and achieve their dream of a proper education. “This isn’t just a profession for us. It is a vocation. Through this, we are able to really help people," says Gonzaga who receives only 4,000 pesos (USD 90) a month. Not just private sector Dr. Carolina Guerrero, director of DepEd’s Bureau of Alternative Learning System (BALS) cites poverty as the biggest reason for children dropping out of school. Easy access to schools -- as in Omilan’s case -- is another. Aware of the illiteracy problem in the country, Guerrero says the DepEd does not simply leave it to the Church, NGOs or the private sector to help. Through Executive Order No. 356 issued in 2004, the Philippine government established the ALS as a parallel learning approach providing a viable alternative to the existing formal educational structure. “The system is meant for the poorest of the poor, the marginalized learner – those who have no access to proper schooling," Guerrero says. “It provides everybody the chance to pick up knowledge, skills, attitude and insight from daily experiences at home, work and play." On top of the basic literacy program, it also supports an Indigenous Peoples (IP) Education Program that aims to develop an IP culture-sensitive core curriculum, learning materials and assessment tools. The usual teaching setting is not done in a formal school. Students gather in Community Learning Centers (CLC) which could be under the shade of a tree, in a house, or in a barangay hall. Their teachers are referred to as ‘mobile teachers’ who, unlike in formal education, do not need to have a license to teach. A high school graduate can teach the literacy program while a college graduate can teach others. There are now some 4,000 CLCs spread across the country with at least 800 mobile teachers serving around 50,000 students. And yet the numbers are actually way too small to affect the more than 16 million Filipinos who have been failed by the traditional education system. Mobile teachers One mobile teacher is Noel Fulgueras. In the last five years, he has roamed around six remote barangay or villages in Famy, Laguna. He crosses rivers and walks up to mountains so he can reach and teach Filipinos who are less educated. Fulgueras, in fact, is a nursing graduate, but instead of joining the foreign exodus of many Filipino nurses and medical staff, he took up education. “My countrymen need me more," he said. He adds that his nursing background has not actually been wasted: he takes his stethoscope and sphygmomanometer to check on the health of his older students. He also provides basic and free nursing care to sick students who have no access to healthcare services. But while taking pride in his job, Fulgueras readily admits the harsh reality of trying to meet his family’s own needs out of his salary. As a mobile teacher, he receives only 10,000 pesos (USD 227) a month. “I love my job but I don’t know how far I can go. I leave it all to God," he says. In the quiet barangay of Kataypuanan, 58-year-old Cristina Esplana is the oldest of Fulgueras’ students. Classes are held outside of their small wooden village hall which stands along the river bank. The sound of the river and the backdrop of insects and birds busy in the forest help provide for a conducive learning experience. A&E test The good thing with the alternative learning system is that it is designed to support each student’s individual learning pace. There is thus no stigma such as being forced to repeat a year or being held back while others progress. If a student is fast enough, he can go on to the next level until he is allowed to take the Accreditation and Equivalency (A&E) test with DepEd. Unlike so many other tests in the Philippine Education system, the test is given for free. Hence, Omilan and Esplana do not need to wait for five more years to finish elementary school. If they pass the A&E test in two years, they can proceed to high school either in a formal school or still in ALS. When a student passes an A&E test, they will receive a certificate signed by no less than the Education Secretary. The certificate is equivalent to a diploma that entitles the holder all the rights and privileges that is accorded to an elementary or high school graduate –crucial for getting a good job. This is the same certificate that Philippine boxing icon Manny Pacquiao received after successfully passing the A&E Test a year ago. Before gaining international stardom in his boxing career, Pacquaio was a poor baker who just finished Grade 6. But with the certificate he now has, he can automatically proceed to college if ever he wants to hang up his boxing gloves. Twenty-year-old Mylene Tabalan is also a holder of this certificate. She stopped schooling when she got married couple of years ago. She was in second year high school then. But when DepEd opened a CLC just a few meters away from her home in Barangay Kataypuanan, she wasted no time and grabbed the opportunity. She enrolled and studied under the ALS, took the A&E Test and passed. Her certificate signed by Education Secretary Jesli Lapus in February last year makes her a legitimate high school graduate. While she doesn’t plan to enrol in college, the certificate is equally important for her. “Ang saya ko nang matanggap ko ito. Pwede na akong magtrabaho. (I was so happy when I received it. I can now work)," she says. Tabalan plans to work as a saleslady in a shopping mall. Normally, employers require salesladies to be at least a high school graduate. More than 25,000 Filipinos have, so far, passed the A&E examinations at both the elementary and secondary levels. Woes, as usual Guerrero claims the ALS has undoubtedly provided comfort for many disadvantaged Filipinos. It gives them fresh hope and belief that dreams still may come true despite old age, hardships and poverty. But BALS suffers from the same problem as that of many programs in the Department of Education – insufficient funding. It has yet to get as little as a one per cent share of the DepEd budget: Last year, it received only 230 million pesos or 0.17 percent of the 134.7 billion-peso budget. While the DepEd saw its budget go up last year, 90 per cent goes to teacher’s salaries and much of the remainder goes to operating expenses and capital outlay like school buildings, textbooks and equipment. Whatever little is left goes to special projects like BALS. Limitations on the Bureau mean it has been unable to implement its plans to provide better education for indigenous people. Guerrero says that one of the foremost reasons why IPs do not send their children to formal schools is because the curriculum does not respond to their cultural needs. Currently, BALS runs the IP Education Program in six ethnic communities, way too little given the target is all 110 ethnic groups in the country. “The problem is on the materials. Each ethnic group has its own language. It means we have to translate each material for every tribe. And we simply don’t have funds," Guerrero laments. Guerrero says a real good ALS can actually offset problems in formal education. “ALS does not need school buildings. And if more, many can access the ALS, then there’s going to be less demand for school buildings." It is too huge a problem for the DepEd to handle alone. That is why Guerrero calls on policy-makers to come up with new thinking and the private sector to step in and help. Otherwise, millions of poor Filipinos will continue to head into their sunset years deprived of their basic right to a free elementary and secondary education. - Philippine Human Rights Reporting Project (The author is a television news reporter of the GMA Network and is a regular contributor of special reports on women, children, education, health, and the environment to GMANews.TV.)