THERE IS something gut-wrenching in listening to a teen struggle through reading aloud of one sentence of a textbook. It is not so much the question of being off in syllables or of violating the rules of punctuation — it is the moment of silence, the heavy-with-embarrassment classroom, and the silent looking down by classmates who are ashamed for the person who never ought to have been in the specific grade level to begin.
This is not fiction. It is the lived experience of many teachers who, despite their passion and persistence, are often compelled to promote students who cannot yet decode a basic paragraph. And it is precisely why many educators are calling—again—for the restoration of the “No Read, No Move” policy.
This clamor, echoed on Education Secretary Sonny Angara’s social media following his strong statements on fighting functional illiteracy, is neither political noise nor misplaced nostalgia. It is a desperate, reasoned response from the trenches.
The teachers posting “Ibalik ang No Read, No Move” are not heartless gatekeepers. They are worn-out frontline workers begging for a system that values foundational learning before formal progression. What they are calling for is not punishment—but protection.
Let us be specific here: the 2024 Functional Literacy, Education, and Mass Media Survey (FLEMMS) of the Philippine Statistics Authority (PSA) revealed the disturbing fact. Around 18.9 million Filipinos aged 10 to 64 are functionally illiterate—they are incapable of comprehending, interpreting, and applying simple written information in practical situations despite being able to recite words verbally.
As Karol Yee of EDCOM 2 noted, this is not merely a statistical red flag. This is a threat to our social fabric. This means millions of workers who cannot read instruction manuals, mothers who cannot properly dose their child’s antibiotics, and voters who may misunderstand ballot instructions or campaign promises.
Functional illiteracy, as studies have shown, is not a high school problem. It is a Grade One problem that snowballed.
In the 1990s, before the gradual shift to the mass promotion culture, most children in public schools learned to read in Grade 1. The reading crisis began not with lazy learners, but with lazy systems. DepEd Order No. 45, s. 2002, which prescribed the “No Read, No Move” policy at Grade 3, was itself a watered-down version of what used to be a stricter, more effective Grade 1 threshold. Unfortunately, as classroom realities evolved, the policy gathered dust. Enforcement was optional. And soon, learning to read became negotiable.
Iloilo Provincial Board Member Jason Gonzalez of Iloilo captured it best when he said we need to restore the policy urgently to plug the learning hemorrhage. That is no exaggeration. EDCOM 2’s findings in 2025 suggest that students are now performing four to five years behind expected reading competencies. Some Grade 8 learners read at Grade 3 levels—or worse.
Teachers confirm this every day in classrooms where comprehension questions about a simple paragraph yield either copied phrases or blank stares. When the only requirement to move up is time served in a chair, we end up awarding diplomas for presence, not proficiency.
This is not to say that the Department of Education has done nothing. To be fair, DepEd under Secretary Angara has recognized the problem. The “Bawat Bata Bumabasa” campaign, ARAL program, and the recalibration of grading and retention policies are well-meaning steps. But they are not enough—not while the core incentive structure still encourages mass promotion to meet enrollment targets or avoid backlash from irate parents.
To complicate matters, policies like “No Student Left Behind,” adapted locally from global models, have fostered a culture of promotion at all costs. While designed to ensure equity, they inadvertently diluted accountability. Learning gaps are now normalized.
Some administrators even discourage retention of non-readers, fearing it would reflect poorly on their performance indicators. As a result, even well-meaning teachers feel helpless—like medical workers told to discharge patients still bleeding. (To be continued)/PN
