Immediately upon arrival, it is evident that Catholicism plays an integral part in Filipino life and culture. In many ways, it felt inseparable from everyday life in the Philippines. It is all-encompassing. Taxi drivers had rosaries hanging from their rearview mirrors, schools had statues of Mother Mary everywhere, murals of Saints lined the streets, government buildings greeted you with crucifixes, and houses had Saint figurines delicately placed throughout them. Even when you weren’t actively visiting a church, religion was still present in the background of everyday life. It was not confined to Sunday mornings or the walls of a church; rather, it is intricately woven into the fabric of Filipino culture.
This sparked quite a few conversations among the American Fulbrighters. A spontaneous yet iconic moment of the trip occurred on the morning we checked out of the Pico Sands Resort, a coastal resort in Batangas. Since we had ample time, Siletta, a fellow Fulbrighter, invited a few of us to visit the local Catholic Church with her. St. Therese of the Child Jesus Chapel was a small rectangle surrounded by glass windows. Upon arrival, the lone worker sprayed our hands with holy water. Despite growing up a strict Catholic, this was new to me. The church was atop a hill near a cliff; the glass allowed for a beautiful view of the mountainous coastline and ocean. It’s not every day that you see a crucifix in front of such a stunning view.
St. Therese of the Child Jesus Chapel
As we perused the church, a conversation regarding religion organically emerged as two of the Fulbrighters who were Muslim inquired about the objects inside the church (e.g., the Tabernacle, chalice, statues of Saints, etc). The other four of us were raised Catholic – although different types of Catholic – from vastly different places across the U.S., even the globe. We shared our knowledge and upbringings as Catholics, some of which were humorous. The two other Fulbrighters then talked with us about their experiences with Islam. It was a heartwarming exchange of cultures. This isn’t the first time I’ve experienced such conversations as I taught about Islam, visited Islamic countries, have close Muslim family friends, and the like; however, having this cultural exchange with kind folks whom I got to know decently during our travels while atop a hill in Batangas, Philippines, while overlooking epic scenery, was certainly a first. It was one of those moments I felt fortunate to have these folks as travel companions.
View from outside the chapel
Since Catholicism dominated the Philippines, Catholic churches were everywhere. If I wrote about every church and chapel we visited, this blog would be endless. Instead, I’d like to focus on the three breathtaking churches that truly left me in awe:
Nuestra Señora de la Portería Church
Arguably one of the most unique churches we visited was the Nuestra Señora de la Portería Church in Daraga, Albay. The church sits atop a hill and immediately commands your attention because of both its architecture and its setting. From the elevated church grounds, you can see the imposing Mayon Volcano in the distance. Unfortunately, the volcano was hiding a bit that specific morning. The church itself is remarkably ornate, with an elaborate Baroque façade covered in carved religious imagery, twisted columns, niches containing statues of Saints, and intricate foliage designs. The façade almost feels as though it were carved rather than constructed.
Nuestra Señora de la Portería Church
The church was built by Franciscan missionaries in 1773, after settlers moved away from Cagsawa because of concerns over the Mayon Volcano. In my opinion, the most fascinating part of the church is that it was constructed using volcanic rock from Mayon. The volcanic stone walls have survived for centuries and provide a striking contrast to the elaborate decorations carved into them. The church’s bell tower, eastern and western façades, and baptistry were declared a National Cultural Treasure in 2007; it doesn’t take an expert to see why. This church is considered so holy that the Saints figurines are locked behind iron bars, as locals swear they have healing powers. It was fascinating to stand inside a building whose very construction was tied so closely to the landscape surrounding it.
Minor Basilica of the Immaculate Conception
Another church that left an impression on me was the Manila Cathedral, formally the Minor Basilica of the Immaculate Conception. The cathedral has a long and complicated history, having been destroyed and rebuilt multiple times because of fires, earthquakes, typhoons, and war. The seventh cathedral was almost completely destroyed during the Battle of Manila in 1945, when much of Intramuros was devastated during World War II (see this blog to learn about why). The ruins of the cathedral remained for years before the decision was made to rebuild it. The present cathedral was reconstructed between 1954 and 1958 under the direction of Archbishop Rufino Santos and architect Fernando Ocampo.
Minor Basilica of the Immaculate Conception from Plaza de Armas
What struck me most about the Manila Cathedral was the idea that what I was looking at was, in many ways, a symbol of restoration. The cathedral survived natural disasters and bombing campaigns, yet it was consistently rebuilt and remains one of the most important Catholic churches in the country. Walking through it, knowing that so much of Intramuros had been destroyed around it, made the building feel less like simply yet another beautiful church and more like a physical representation of Filipino resilience.
Minor Basilica of the Immaculate Conception – post WWIIInside the Minor Basilica of the Immaculate Conception (2026)
I know not how folks in Manila will receive such a perspective, but I could not help but feel that even the history of the cathedral itself mirrored the history of the country – repeatedly damaged, consistently rebuilt, and gracefully preserved.
Archdiocesan Shrine of Nuestra Señora de la Consolación y Correa
Archdiocesan Shrine of Nuestra Señora de la Consolación y Correa (San Augustin Church) was perhaps the most historically significant church we visited. Also located in Intramuros, San Agustin is the oldest stone church in the Philippines, with the present structure completed in 1607. Augustinians built the church, and it has also survived centuries of earthquakes, wars, political changes, and the destruction of much of Intramuros during WWII. In fact, San Agustin was the only church in Intramuros to survive the Battle of Manila relatively intact.
Ornate doors of Archdiocesan Shrine of Nuestra Señora de la Consolación y Correa
Its age alone was enough to leave me in awe. I stood outside the church for quite some time, marveling at the fact that this is a church that has been standing since the early 1600s. It is made from locally quarried adobe stone and lime mortar, and its thick walls and distinctive architecture helped it withstand the numerous earthquakes that destroyed other structures throughout Manila. The church is also filled with history beyond its walls; the ashes of Spanish conquistador Miguel López de Legazpi are buried inside, and the church has been the site of numerous important events in Philippine history. It was also designated as one of the four Baroque Churches of the Philippines on the UNESCO World Heritage List in 1993. Unfortunately, we were not allowed to take photos inside the church. Maybe this church – standing strong in the face of endless adversity – better represents the Filipino spirit.
Nuestra Señora de Salvación
On our last day in Albay, we stopped by the Our Lady of Salvation statue. Nuestra Señora de Salvación is the heavenly patroness of the province of Albay and the Diocese of Legazpi. The enormous statue stands overlooking the landscape, making it difficult to miss as you travel through the area. Seeing the statue was another reminder of just how deeply Catholicism is woven into the identity of the Philippines. Religious iconography was not simply confined to churches; they were often placed prominently throughout communities, serving as visible reminders of faith in everyday life. Standing beneath Nuestra Señora de Salvación on our final day in Albay felt like an appropriate way to close out our time in a province where faith was paramount.
Nuestra Señora de Salvación, Albay
Islam in the Philippines
Edgar, who was our main host in Legazpi, and the other hosts felt it was important for us to experience Islam in the Philippines.
We entered into a small madrassah, a school focused on Islamic religion and learning, in Legazpi, around the corner from Oro Site High School. Arabic was written across the boards, immediately signaling that we had entered a very different educational and religious environment from the Catholic schools and churches we had visited throughout our time in the Philippines. One of the Filipino guides asked me to translate the Arabic for him, and was shocked when I told him I could not read Arabic. I often think my beard gives people the wrong impression. We sat with the Imam, who spoke heavily about peace and how the true goal of Islam is to find that peace. I wondered if he spoke so heavily about peace because he presumed Americans are misinformed about Islam. I appreciated this visit, as it spoke to the religious diversity of the country and provided another perspective on a religion that is often misunderstood in the US.
When people often think of the Philippines, they usually don’t think of Islam, despite Islam predating the arrival of Christianity. Islam had already reached parts of the southern Philippines centuries before Ferdinand Magellan arrived in 1521. Muslim traders and missionaries helped spread Islam throughout parts of the archipelago, particularly in Mindanao and the Sulu Archipelago. Over time, powerful Muslim sultanates emerged, including the Sultanate of Sulu and the Sultanate of Maguindanao. These communities developed their own political systems, cultures, traditions, and networks of trade – much of which can still be seen today. The arrival of the Spanish and the subsequent spread of Christianity dramatically altered the religious and political landscape of the Philippines, but Islam remained deeply rooted in the southern Philippines and continues to play an important role in Filipino history and culture. The Philippines’ 2020 census counted nearly 7 million people identifying with Islam – about 3 million more than in the US (depending on how Muslim populations are estimated), making it the country’s second-largest religious affiliation after Roman Catholicism.
Speaking to Muslim students, sharing meals with the Imam, and visiting the madrassah were crucial as they challenged the assumptions that can easily develop when we think about the Philippines solely through the lens of Catholicism. Catholicism is undeniably a dominant part of Filipino culture, but it is not the only religious story. Islam has its own long and deeply rooted history in the country, one that actually predates Christianity’s arrival. Sitting in that madrassah and listening to the Imam speak about peace was a reminder that the Philippines is much more religiously diverse than outsiders, myself included, may initially realize.
Speaking with a local Imam after playing traditional games with the students, Oro Site High School
Ultimately, what I respected most about the Filipino people was the reverence and devotion they had for their religion. Faith seemed to be everywhere. It wasn’t simply something Filipinos practiced; it was something that was visibly woven into their culture, history, families, schools, and communities. As someone who grew up Catholic myself, there was something particularly meaningful about seeing that level of devotion in another part of the world. At the same time, experiencing Islam alongside Filipino Muslims reminded me that religious faith takes many different forms here. I left the Philippines with an even greater appreciation for the way Filipinos have preserved, practiced, and passed down their faith – and for the role that religion continues to play in shaping the identity of the country. It’s not a passive aspect of identity; it is one that is also lived in their interactions.
Prior to discussing the classes I taught in Legazpi, Philippines, it’s paramount to provide context on the Filipino educational system, both from a systemic understanding and anecdotal experience. As always, this is a personal reflection that is not in any way designed to adequately capture the essence of the vast entirety of the Filipino educational system.
Background: Philippine Educational System
On our first full day in Manila, we visited the Philippine-American Educational Foundation (PAEF). One of the local Fulbright directors provided a brief background on the country’s educational system, as much as one could do in the hour she had. To be succinct, there were a few system mandates and core characteristics that I recall: universal access, global alignment (commitment to equitable, quality education), language modality (English and Filipino as primary languages), and a core philosophy that education should be learner-centered with competency-based frameworks that emphasize values and holistic development. From the onset, it seemed education in the Philippines was much more centralized than in the U.S.
After learning the theoretical framework of the Filipino educational system, the lecturer taught us that education is overseen by three main agencies: DepEd (Department of Education), which manages basic education; CHED (Commission on Higher Education), which oversees higher education; and TESDA (Technical Education and Skills Development Authority), which manages technical-vocational education and skills development. I appreciated how streamlined and organized it seemed, and wished the U.S. operated with a similar centralized approach. The basic education system consists of one year of Kindergarten, six years of elementary education (Grades 1–6), and four years of Junior High School (Grades 7–10), followed by two years of Senior High School (Grades 11–12) with various academic and technical/vocational pathways. After Senior High School, students can pursue higher education, technical-vocational training, or enter the workforce/entrepreneurship – all managed by the aforementioned trifocalized educational system. According to the lecturer, the system was designed for an ultimate output: to develop lifelong learners who are academically competent, socially responsible, globally competitive, and prepared to contribute positively to society.
The lecture highlighted several differences between the Filipino and U.S. educational systems, including larger class sizes in the Philippines, sometimes exceeding 45–50 students, different approaches to technology integration or lack of access to technology, and classroom routines such as students standing when the bell rings. Assessment practices include teacher-created assessments, exit assessments following key stages, and placement tests that can influence students’ high school trajectories, while Filipino teachers work within the Philippine Professional Standards for Teachers (PPST). Lesson planning in the Philippines was described as much more comprehensive/structured than in the U.S. The lecture also introduced the Alternative Learning System (ALS), which provides informal education opportunities for the “3 L’s:” the last, least, and lost, including incarcerated and working learners.
She concluded that effective work with Filipino teachers and students requires understanding cultural values such as malasakit (deep care for learners), may potensyal (Tagalog for “there is potential”), bayanihan (shared responsibility for educating children), and resilience. Teachers are often viewed as a pangalawang ina, or “second parent,” reflecting the high level of respect afforded to educators, while pakikipagkapwa emphasizes treating others with dignity, utang na loob reflects gratitude and reciprocity, and pakikisama emphasizes harmony, belonging, cooperation, and maintaining strong interpersonal relationships. More broadly, Filipino education is deeply connected to family and community, with teachers often aware of students’ family circumstances and schools responsive to community needs. I saw this respect and solidarity firsthand at Legazi City Science High School. The lecture also emphasized the resilience and resourcefulness of Filipino educators, who frequently adapt creatively to limited resources while maintaining flexibility, optimism, and a strong commitment to their students. Of course, it is necessary to emphasize that such descriptions are not completely standardized across the archipelago, as culture and traditions often override universality.
It was after this lecture that the PAEF paired us with a Fulbrighter from the Philippines to discuss the essential question that we had developed prior to the trip. My question: How do Filipino educators employ local history, cultural identity, and community experiences to foster civic engagement, cultural relevancy, and global competency, and how can these approaches inform social studies instruction in my own community? Our person typed up a massive response to my question, which delved into the concept of kapwa, which means “shared identity,” “fellow human being,” or “togetherness” in Tagalog. In the context of education, kapwa shifts the focus from individual success to collective learning, community, and mutual care. It means viewing classrooms not as rooms full of separate competitors, but as spaces where students and teachers share a collective identity and aim toward a common goal. I always find it fascinating that in the West, we develop terms for concepts that have existed before the United States even became a country.
Sharing my reflection on on the concept of “kapwa,” PAEF Headquarters, Manila
During our school visits, I saw kapwa in action. Visiting various schools was easily my favorite part of the Fulbright TGC program as I’m always fascinated with how education works in a material, on-the-ground sense in different countries. Although we visited a few schools and community institutions, I’m going to focus on the five of the main school sites that we’ve spent the most time in: Pitogo High School, Montessori de San Juan, Legazpi City Science High School, Legazpi City National High School for Inclusive Education, and Oro Site High School.
Pitogo High School
Pitogo High School in Makati City, Manila, was our first school visit. I was not expecting the roar from students upon our arrival. As we waited in the courtyard, I ignited a conversation with a couple of the boys who seemed eager to chat. We talked about basketball, and one of my opinions hyped them up.
After our brief interaction with the students, we were ushered into a faculty room to hear from school officials. It was evident that the administrators took great pride in their school as they discussed all that they were doing to succeed, including breaking test score records and showing up for their students. One aspect of their presentation that resonated with me was not just that Pitogo was a virtues-oriented school, as all schools make such claims, but the virtues themselves: “Maka-DIYOS – we value God and spirituality; MakATAO – we respect others and promote dignity; MakAKALIKASAN – we care for nature and our environment; MakABANSA – We love our country and serve with pride.”
In the meeting, pride was evident, especially that teachers are able to exercise autonomy in designing lesson plans – as long as they follow a “common framework” and collaborate with colleagues. As with many schools around the world, they emphasized how they addressed their external struggles (shootings, nutrition) by working to develop the holistic student. I asked about social studies instruction, and the administrator informed me that social studies content is standardized across the “region” (i.e., Southeast Asia).
After some pedagogical dialogue with our host, a teacher took us on a tour of the school. Beautiful greenery surrounded the courtyard, which was not only aesthetically pleasing, but it also provided shade and fresh oxygen. As we passed through the outside halls, students eagerly waved and jovially cheered at our presence. It was nice to feel welcomed. It was also a reminder that Filipino students are far more animated than U.S. students. Our host ushered us into some classrooms, which had far more desks than a standard U.S. classroom, and the desks were far tinier. They showed us the inside of their closets, which were complete with hard hats in case of an earthquake. When I inquired, a teacher responded that they “nurture” their “learners with air and space competencies” (i.e., earthquakes and typhoons). As someone with a traumatic experience with disasters, I am also fascinated by how communities coexist with the looming threat of nature.
There were many aspects of the school I found interesting, but three resonated with me the most. One, there were quite a few anti-bullying signs. Moreover, some signs had QR codes for students to submit their concerns. There were also boxes for students to input slips for those without phones. I appreciated how seriously the school addressed bullying. Second, there was a basketball court atop the school roof. Incorporating sports into schooling always brings me joy. Third, there were statues and pictures of Mother Mary scattered throughout the school. This surprised me the most as a person hailing from a country with a strong, albeit declining, tradition of separation of church and state. In the Philippines, I’ve learned that Catholicism is woven throughout the state apparatus.
I spoke with John Tagala, one of the social studies teachers, before I left. He answered my inquiries with pride. When I asked about the structure of social studies content across grade levels, he responded that history at the younger ages starts locally, then progresses regionally (Southeast Asia), and finally, globally. The U.S. has the opposite structure, in which we start general and get more specific as the kids grow.
Montessori de San Juan
Montessori de San Juan, a private school in Manila, was our next school. The students here were excited but not as eager as the students from Pitigo High. At this school, we had an assembly for formalities and introductions. It was here that we had our American Fair to teach students about our particular home states. Another Fulbrighter and I represented Louisiana. Our slideshow had tidbits ranging from our cultural traditions to music. I was pleasantly surprised that students could identify Louis Armstrong and Princess Tiana – maybe the latter isn’t as surprising. We also showed them photos of our food, everything from gumbo to boiled crawfish, our wildlife, everything from alligators to endemic birds. For many, their single frame of reference for Louisiana was Popeyes chicken, which is a neat cultural ambassador to have. Because of the vast age differences and academic levels, we had to differentiate in real-time.
We distributed light-up Mardi Gras beads that I caught – mostly from the Orpheus parade. Kids accepted these beads with curiosity and sincere joy. Because basketball is prominent in Louisiana and the Philippines, I showed the kids some neat basketball tricks. Although basketball is not just a Louisiana phenomenon, it is easily one of the U.S.’ main exports. The kids enjoyed this activity the most, especially when I spun it on my finger, a move they tried to replicate. Overall, Filipino students found great joy in learning about our home states, which, in turn, brought me great joy.
Legazpi City Science High School
At Legazpi City Science High School – the school in which I’d eventually teach in – the day began with a “Flag Ceremony,” where students emphatically sang anthems to the country, province, city, and school. The students did so with such pride, dressing to the nines in uniforms complete with matching ties and socks. It was wholesome to witness, and it reminded me of how unpatriotic U.S. students can seem toward their own country compared to students in non-Western countries. As our gracious host, Edgar, ushered us down an aisle in the middle of the crowd, students in Indigenous garb danced alongside us, adding to what was already an incredibly welcoming atmosphere.
The students were absolutely delighted at our presence. They cheered as if we were celebrities and seemed overly grateful for our presence. To be honest, I figured this is probably the closest I’d ever come to feeling like a celebrity. The other two Fulbrighters and I were brought on stage, where our bios were read aloud, and students performed synchronized dances to welcome us. At one point, an administrator asked us to dance with them. Despite not knowing the dance or having the rhythm of the student dancers, we tried our absolute best, which was more than enough to make the entire student body erupt in cheers. I figured if a glimpse of this were to ever make its way on the internet, it may appear we were culturally appropriating. However, when folks invite you to participate in their culture, you do so, no matter how silly you may appear.
Folks took candid shots throughout the visit, and as the students were heading back to class, many of them asked to take selfies with us. It was a nice reminder that kids, despite vast global differences across cultures and ethnicities, are the same everywhere. It was a joyous, life-changing occasion.
After lunch, we had a meeting with our co-teachers and administrators to learn more about the school’s inner workings. We also met our co-teachers. My co-teacher was Teacher Honeylet, a veteran teacher with an intricate sleeve tattoo. Afterward, they gave us more gifts, including a custom-made bracelet. During this meet-and-greet, a teacher notified me that students may stare, but it is inquisitive, as I’m only the second white man to visit their school in recent years – the previous being the UK Ambassador last year, a person of only slightly more importance (kidding).
Throughout my visit, I learned quite a bit about the school. Like Ben Franklin, where I teach, students must pass an entrance exam to be accepted. All parents are required to join the Parent-Teacher Association (PTA) – even the acronyms are similar to the U.S. All parents must contribute a small portion of their salary to the PTA to assist the school, which allows the school to have more resources than any school in the region. Some classes even have AC units, which was only possible due to increasing the necessary voltage, and that was only possible through the PTA donations. Students also get to have delicious homemade snacks between classes. These similarities, despite the enormous differences in our two school systems and cultures, were another reminder that many of the fundamental things that make a school community successful – pride, parental involvement, student enthusiasm, and a commitment to providing students with opportunities – are universal.
I first observed my co-teacher, Teacher Honeylet, teach a macroeconomics course. Teacher Honeylet had a strong presence in the classroom – students listened intently. The students deeply respected her. She taught about “economic trends,” GDP, inflation, and the like, and they were incredibly responsive throughout the lesson. They also learned about the National Spending Formula and made economic comparisons between Singapore, Vietnam, and the Philippines, with lots of comparisons to Vietnam. Oddly enough, I also compared the Philippines to Vietnam as I spent almost an entire summer there before, and it was the only other Southeast Asian country I spent significant time in. The lesson included a trio activity in which groups of three students represented a macroeconomic analytical unit: the “economist,” the “household budgeter,” and the “policy synthesizer.” Teacher Honeylet asked the final question, “How do national economic indicators – like GDP, inflation, and national debt – interconnect to shape the everyday decisions of a Filipino household?”
When Teacher Honeylet spoke in Filipino, I heard plenty of Spanish words, although they were spelled slightly differently in Filipino: Ekonomiya, Teknolohiya, Edukasyon, Siyensya, Politika, Impormasyon, Bokabularyo, and Kultura. In one lesson, I even heard the word “sapatos” to reference shoes. When I prepped for my own lessons, I incorporated many of these Filipino words into the Google Slideshow. It was interesting to see how familiar so many of these words sounded to me despite being spoken in Filipino. As expected, class sizes were in the low 30s, which was dramatically low for the Philippines.
I also had the opportunity to work with a robotics class, in which students showed me their motherboards and all the inner workings – “this joystick moved this switch,” “this button made this light bulb shine,” and the like. It was fun interacting with such brilliant and passionate students. I asked plenty of questions and audibly gasped when they presented a neat gadget. They truly enjoyed teaching me, and I enjoyed learning from them. In many ways, they reminded me of my Franklin students.
Class at Legazpi City Science High School
I observed another Macroeconomics class, which covered the same lesson, before moving into a lesson on globalization. Students analyzed everyday items – “sapatos” and “phones” – and examined how products were connected to different parts of the world. Phones, for example, were developed in the U.S. but manufactured in China. The lesson explored both the positive and negative undercurrents of globalization. I designed my lesson to take the baton from this one.
The group activity was called “Supply Chain Mapping.” In groups of four, students received a product image and were tasked with drawing their supply chain flowchart on ½ Manila Paper in landscape orientation. Groups created their flowcharts and then presented them to the class. Once again, students were incredibly responsive and engaged with the activity.
I also observed an 8th-grade World History class. Students were divided into groups of four to review an empire: Classical Greece, the Roman Empire, Han China, and the Gupta Empire. Each group presented its empire to the class. Afterward, Teacher Honeylet went over “key patterns” and “pillars of stability.” After observing multiple classes, it became increasingly evident that the students not only respected Teacher Honeylet but truly wanted to impress her. She had a strong presence in the classroom, but there was also a clear level of comfort and engagement between her and her students. When the kid presenting on the Roman Empire said “6-7” as he was counting, the entire class did the iconic 6-7 hand motions. Memes are universal and universally annoying.
Legazpi City National High School for Inclusive Education
We also visited Legazpi City National High School for Inclusive Education, a school dedicated to immersing students with significant disabilities into mainstream education. While this may be a concept U.S. schools are required to do, this does not seem to be the norm in the Philippines. The school welcomed us with open arms. Upon entering the office, the secretary greeted us in a variation of American Sign Language – a clear indicator that the school also hires people with hearing challenges. She appreciated the two of us trying to greet her in ASL.
The school gave us a tour to show us all the ways in which they’re incorporating students with significant disabilities into the classroom. This school lacked many of the resources available at Legazpi City Science High School, from no AC to much larger class sizes. We met multiple students whom they labeled as “mainstream learners” because they were in mainstream classrooms. In each classroom, mainstream learners stood up and introduced themselves. Interacting with these classrooms reminded me of why I enjoy schools – kids are just wholesome and kind throughout the world. When I asked whether this practice was potentially singling out students, the administrators told us that the students appreciate being recognized and that their peers celebrate them.
After a tour of the school, we sat down with administrators to learn all about the school. Turns out, they actively recruit throughout the entire area, as many people are unaware of the possibilities for kids with disabilities. Because of their efforts, Legazpi City National High School for Inclusive Education has won numerous awards, which was unsurprising. Such schools give me hope in this world.
Oro Site High School
Oro Site High School is located in the heart of Legazpi City, Albay. One of the first things they told us about the school was how frequently it flooded and how the surrounding community was often tasked with managing the dire circumstances that came with it. This immediately reminded me of New Orleans, where flooding is also a familiar part of life and where schools and communities have to learn to adapt to circumstances that are often beyond their control. There was something familiar about seeing a school navigate these challenges, even though the setting was thousands of miles away.
One of the highlights of our visit was playing Filipino games with the students. Each Fulbrighter was put on a team with Filipino students. Some of these games were indigenous to the country. The first game was a sack race, a classic outdoor game where players place both legs inside a large sack or pillowcase, pull it up to their waist, and hop toward a finish line. This was the only game that felt familiar to me because it was similar to games we played in the U.S. We then played sipa, a traditional game in which players use their feet, knees, or elbows to keep a weighted washer in the air. It reminded me a lot of hacky sack. I was rather decent with this one, as I’ve played soccer my entire life. The next game was kadang-kadang sa bao, also known as tiyakad, in which players race on stilts made from halved coconut shells and string. As clumsy as it felt walking on coconut shells, it was a fun test of balance, speed, and teamwork, and was played as a relay race. I could not find the name of the last game, but it was another relay race in which some people had to balance an object on their elbows while others had to place it between their toes. Each person on the team had to position the object differently before racing to the finish. If you dropped it, then you started all over.
kadang-kadang sa baoPlaying sipa
It was a fun competition, and I was proud that my team won first place – not even going to lie there. Beyond the competition itself, I enjoyed being placed alongside Filipino students because it gave us an opportunity to interact with one another in a way that did not feel like a traditional school visit. We were laughing, competing, and figuring out the games together. The kids were in leadership roles as they played these games to us, and we were the goofy, tall foreigners looking silly. It was a small but meaningful way to experience Filipino culture rather than simply observe it.
Afterward, we met with quite a few students and learned more about how their school operates. I also observed a social studies teacher give an economics lesson, and she had all 35 of those students engaged as she cleverly gamified the lesson. It was beautiful to witness students so invested in winning for their team, which was based on their gender. The competition gave the students another reason to participate, but it was clear that the teacher had intentionally created an environment where students wanted to take ownership over their learning. Watching the lesson reminded me of the power of gamification when it is used intentionally – students who might otherwise sit quietly or idly were completely invested in what was transpiring because they wanted their team to win.
We also had the opportunity to speak with the school’s Muslim students to learn more about Islam in the Filipino educational system. They were initially shy, but as we asked questions respectfully, they gradually opened up and shared more about their experiences. I appreciated that we were able to have those conversations directly with students rather than simply learning about Islam in the Philippines from a presentation. Their willingness to share, once they became comfortable, made the conversation feel much more personal and authentic. Overall, my time at Oro Site High School was a mixture of competitive fun, classroom observation, cultural exchange, and organic and fruitful conversation; it gave me another opportunity to see how Filipino schools build community despite challenges that felt surprisingly familiar to me.
Concluding Reflection
I’ve learned quite a lot from these visits, but there are a few aspects of the Filipino school culture that truly resonated with me.
First, Filipino students highly value and respect their teachers in ways I’ve never witnessed in other classrooms I’ve experienced around the world, notably in the U.S., Germany, South Africa, or Morocco. Whenever I entered a classroom, the students simultaneously stood up and said “Good morning, Sir Chris!” in unison. Students do not dare pass you without giving a respectful bow, some of which were full bows. It didn’t matter if the student was playing or eating. Sitting students quickly stood up as soon as a teacher walked in. Honeylet notified me that it’s not mandatory to return bows to students; I learned quickly why that was the case after my neck started to hurt after a few days. In classes, students stood up when speaking to the rest of the class, which U.S. students only do when prompted. Perhaps the biggest indicator of teacher respect is the fact that schools have no bells to end class. I’ve noticed that when a class that is supposed to end at 10:45 am, it is common for the lesson to spill over without any sign of frustration from the students.
Second, Filipino teachers are highly esteemed and respected by society. They have to wear a uniform similar to that of a pilot, which they are identified for their profession. One of our hosts told me that he was ignored when he went to purchase a motorcycle, so he went home to change into his teacher uniform. Upon return, the motorcycle salespeople were clamoring for his attention. These notions of respect, from students to the broader society, are not as common in the States. I’ve only found such deep value from students and families I’ve developed meaningful relationships with, and institutions that are happy to give an accolade to advance their own PR. In the States, you have to earn respect as a teacher. In the Philippines, it seems everyone respects the entire profession from the onset.
Third, Filipino teachers are proudly passionate and care deeply about their students. They talk about them with as much fervor as we do our students in the States. There are some students I’ve taught that I’ve grown to appreciate as if they were my own. I sense such sentiments from the teachers I’ve interacted with in every school I visited.
Overall, education is deeply valued in the Philippines, from the orphanages to the high-performing schools. Filipinos intrinsically embed aspects of community and culture within facets of the school. Culture drives relationships and pedagogy. There is no separation. In the States, schools seek to be fortresses against a society that refuses to address the root cause of school shootings. In the Philippines, no such concern exists. Overall, I’ve gained much from my time visiting and working with Filipino teachers and students. I am better for it, and I hope that others are better from my visit. May the lesson I’ve learned remain ingrained in my conscience, and may the connections I’ve gained be fruitful and everlasting.
Personal Reflections on Historical Memory in the Philippines
In terms of historical memory, I am always intrigued by how a society views and interprets its past. In the Philippines, I became fascinated with the various ways in which people on these islands interpret their long, multifaceted history.
On Historical Nomenclature
I often wondered about the name of the country – the Philippines – named after King Philip II of Spain. One Fulbrighter asked John Ray Ramos, our resident historian, whether there were conversations about changing the name of a country praising a European monarch. The historian gave a short answer stating that the name has essentially been “reclaimed” and its meaning is entirely divorced from its original intention– reminiscent of certain historical terms in the U.S. Taking that name became a symbol of empowerment. Professor Ray stated that this was the consensus among many Filipino historians and activists within the last decade. I quickly contemplated what thoughts emerge when I think of the Philippines, and ultimately saw deep value in what the historian stated. A quick Google search exemplifies this is still an ongoing dialogue – not one an outsider, much less a Westerner hailing from the former colonizing country, should weigh in on.
I stayed in Legazpi during my site visit, named after Miguel López de Legazpi. Legazpi was a brutal conquistador, best known for leading the successful expedition that firmly established Spanish supremacy over the islands in the 16th century. He completely dehumanized and eagerly sought to subjugate the local populations. Yet, there is a city named after him, complete with a statue of him situated at a busy intersection near the coastal night markets. One of our Filipino guides in Legazpi said that classes only teach him so students can get an answer right on a test, and that there is no active celebration of the person. I thought of the Confederate statues that were taken down in New Orleans.
Miguel Lopez De Legazpi Monument, Legazpi, Albay, Philippines
During my first day at Legazpi City Science High, the students welcomed us with Indigenous dances that praised their folk heroes – such a powerful introduction. One of the folk heroes, Baltog, is the first great hero of the Ibalong Epic, a pre-Hispanic traditional folk story from the Bicol region. The people of Bicol know him as the brave pioneer settler who introduced agriculture and skillfully killed a massive wild boar with his bare hands. It is profoundly fascinating that this legend predates Spanish colonization and survived through a vibrant oral tradition, knowing that these traditions are thriving despite centuries of foreign influence designed to suppress culture.
Baltog Statue in Legazpi City, taken by me.
The Legacy of Global Empires
During all of my conversations and tours, it seems that there was a collective sense of anti-Spanish and anti-Japanese sentiment (rightfully so on both ends), but such sentiments did not extend to the U.S., at least not nearly as much. There seemed to be a proclivity to view U.S. imperialism in a much softer light than the Spanish era or under Japanese imperialism. I found this slightly peculiar as historians estimate the U.S. killed over 200,000 Filipino civilians in the Philippine-American War. Such sentiment was most evident during the Intramuros tour, in which the guide revered all of the martyrs for Filipino independence and heavily praised U.S. military efforts during the Battle of Manila.
Could this be due to the U.S.’ educational aims when the Philippines was a U.S. colony? It is difficult to imagine such U.S.-designed curricula instilling an objective take on the vast war crimes during the Philippine-American War. Even today, the curricula in the U.S. do not present an objective take on that war. Most curricula in the States – at least as far as I’ve analyzed – want students to know that the Philippines was simply a colony that the U.S. rightfully earned after easily defeating Spain in 1898. If a student is fortunate, the teacher may even discuss the role the U.S. played in defeating Japanese forces there.
Nowhere was this more evident than on our tour of the U.S. Embassy. The tour guide and the representatives praised U.S. efforts in the Philippines in both the tour and subsequent conversations. No one mentioned the protests against the U.S.-led Pax Silica that just occurred outside the U.S. Embassy. Pax Silica is a U.S.-led international initiative launched in 2025 to secure global supply chains for AI, advanced semiconductors, and critical minerals, functioning as a Western-allied counterweight to Chinese technological dominance. The growing influence of China concerned some of the officials in the embassy, and they made no attempts to hide that concern. The anti-Pax Silica protests, and the accompanying online discourse, are evident that there is a large contingent of Filipinos who reject U.S.’ soft power approach.
During the tour, the Embassy tour guide praised American teachers, dubbed Thompsonite teachers, who moved to the Philippines after the Philippines-American War, as she gestured to framed photos of early 20th-century American teachers. Outside, we saw the physical remnants from the Battle of Manila – the bullet holes on the flagpole displayed like a badge of honor. She also showed us the gravesite of the U.S. flag that fell during the war. Later, we entered the exact location the U.S. charged Japanese army officers for their crimes against humanity. Obviously, holding war criminals accountable is a necessary and just move. However, the tours and representatives should be more objective regarding U.S. imperialism. This tour reaffirmed my obligation to teach U.S.-Filipino history more objectively during my upcoming lessons.
As I spent more time in the Philippines, it grew ever more evident that such pro-U.S. sentiments mostly stemmed from the U.S.-Filipino joint effort during WWII. Many Filipinos discuss the vast horrors Japan inflicted on the country as if it happened yesterday. The profound impact and legacy of WWII on Filipino memory cannot be understated. As Americans, we were fortunate that the unfathomable war never truly hit within our borders (outside of our territories), and thus our view of that conflict is etched differently in our collective memory. No one can say the same about the Philippines.
Manila-American Cemetery and Memorial
In Manila, I used some of my free time to visit the Manila American Cemetery and Memorial, which commemorates over 36,000 soldiers Missing in Action (MIA) and over 17,000 Killed in Action (KIA) – totaling over an estimated 53,000 US soldiers. When I put feelers out in the group chat, three American Fulbrighters accompanied me on the journey. The cemetery was vast and seemingly endless. White crosses and the Jewish stars spread neatly across a finely trimmed grassy knoll while Manila skyscrapers towered in the distance. It was an odd juxtaposition. The latter may not have occurred without the sacrifices made by those buried in the cemetery.
Manila American Cemetery and Memorial, taken by me.
The experience became more personal as we approached the wall of those MIA. Before I left, my mother tasked me to find the name of our relative, Joseph Bruno. Joseph heroically died in Papua New Guinea fighting Japanese forces. I have heard his name and story throughout my life, so I knew how much this visit meant to my mother. However, I failed to realize the grave personal impact it would have on me. After searching in the Marines section of the wall with the help of my new buddies, we spotted Joseph’s name etched into the wall. My heart jumped.
Pointing to my late relative’s name on the MIA wall at the American Manila Cemetery
A local guide approached us after our quick photoshoot and asked to escort me to the Visitor Center. There, one of the curators pulled up information about Joseph and printed an official U.S. government certificate. He told me as much information about Joseph as he could find. To surmise, he died in Papua New Guinea protecting his comrades – the ultimate sacrifice – and those comrades buried him there. I became emotional as I listened. He organized the certificate and information into a neat folder – a custom of the museum for family members who visit. Apparently, I was the first known relative of Joseph to visit the center.
It was an emotional and surreal experience to know that somewhere in the world, a relative of mine is buried, yet he is being memorialized almost a century later in such a beautiful, heartwarming fashion. While I was playing soccer in college when I was his age, he was fighting in foxholes with boys who had just become adults in a brutal war against global totalitarianism. It caused me to reflect on the privileges I’ve had growing up.
The museum at the Manila-American Cemetery and Memorial did quickly emphasize that the U.S. rejected the Filipino nationalists’ desire for independence after the Spanish-American War. After, it was what one might expect a military museum would cover – battle strategies, diary excerpts from soldiers, propaganda posters, photos of complete devastation, and the like. It was indeed an informative museum, especially for military history buffs.
Closing
The historiography of the Philippines is as complex as the history itself, and this reflection by no means seeks to minimize it. Any Westerner, especially a white American, entering these lands must first seek to understand; I truly felt I was mostly successful in accomplishing that goal. In doing so, it is evident that Filipinos have a deep understanding of the history of their homeland. People speak about historical events and people from ancient days as if they experienced or knew them personally. Ancient epics hold just as much weight as pop culture icons. The lands in which various influential leaders, like José Rizal, trekked are sacred. In all of the historical richness woven throughout the Philippines, notions of agency, resistance, and love are consistent throughout.
Chris Dier 