By Reisha Mae F. Valdez, UC student
There was a time when the greatest fears students faced in school were failed exams, surprise recitations, or forgotten assignments. Never did I imagine that Filipino students would one day fear for their lives inside the very place meant to protect them.
Yet here we are. Three students lost their lives. More than twenty others were injured. The suspects were not strangers. They were minors, students themselves. What happened was the kind of tragedy many Filipinos only saw in foreign news reports. Now, it happened in our own backyard.
In response, the Department of Education ordered a review of school safety measures. The Philippine National Police promised stronger security around schools. There will be audits, policy reviews, and additional support systems.
All of that sounds reassuring. But why does it often take a tragedy before action becomes urgent?
For years, schools have been described as safe spaces. They are places where young people are supposed to learn, make friends, and discover who they are. Yet violence has continued to find its way through school gates. Bullying, harassment, physical fights, and now a deadly shooting remind us that danger does not always come from outside. Sometimes, it grows quietly within the very environment meant to protect children.
Security guards, inspections, and police visibility can help. However, safety is not just about preventing weapons from entering campuses. It is also about recognizing the warning signs before violence happens.
How many students are struggling silently with anger, isolation, or emotional distress? How many are afraid to ask for help because they fear being judged? How many schools have guidance offices that are understaffed and overwhelmed?
A student does not wake up one day and suddenly become a threat. There are often stories, struggles, and cries for help that go unnoticed.
That is why the conversation should not end with metal detectors and security protocols. It should include mental health services, stronger guidance programs, better communication between schools and families, and communities that pay attention when young people are hurting.
The recent tragedy is not only a failure of security. It is a reminder that protection requires constant effort from everyone involved—parents, teachers, government agencies, and even students themselves.
We often tell children that school is their second home. If that is true, then schools must offer more than classrooms and lessons. They must provide safety, support, and the assurance that every learner matters.
No parent should spend the day wondering if their child is safe behind school walls. No student should feel fear in a place meant for learning.
The question is no longer whether DepEd will review its policies. The real question is this: How many tragedies must happen before safety becomes a priority instead of a reaction?
Schools are supposed to teach us how to live, not make us fear whether we will survive the day.
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