When ‘inclusion’ means a classroom without a plan
I have a student named Miguel in my Grade 7 class this year. That is not his real name, but his story is real.
No one informed me on the first day that Miguel had a learning disability. There was no assessment report, no individualized education plan (IEP), no guidance from a specialist. Only after weeks of observation did I realize he struggled to follow written instructions differently from his classmates. Like many teachers, I relied on instinct, not a structured support system.
Miguel’s story is not unique. It reflects daily reality in many public school classrooms nationwide.
The numbers are sobering. Of an estimated 5.1 million Filipino children with disabilities, only a small fraction is enrolled in public schools. Most enrolled are placed in regular classrooms under mainstreaming or inclusive education—a shift away from segregation in principle, but in practice often means placing learners with diverse needs in classrooms without the support systems they, or their teachers, need to succeed.
As a junior high school teacher, I was never formally trained to identify learning disabilities—nor are many colleagues. When learners struggle, teachers are often left to observe rather than professionally assess, so many remain undiagnosed or are identified only informally, instead of through evaluation by qualified specialists.
Even when a disability is identified, the support that should follow is often missing. Law requires every learner with a disability to have an IEP, but few teachers can implement one. Many schools lack access to psychologists, therapists, guidance specialists, or Special Needs Education (SNED) professionals to help develop and monitor these plans. Teachers managing classes of 40 or more students often lack the training and time for individualized interventions on top of regular duties.
The government has established inclusive learning resource centers nationwide, envisioned as hubs for assessment, intervention, and specialized support. Unfortunately, many remain only partially operational, lacking the multidisciplinary professionals needed to deliver these services. Buildings exist, but without psychologists, therapists, and SNED teachers, the promise of inclusion remains largely unrealized.
This is where the distinction between placement and inclusion becomes critical.
True inclusion is not achieved simply by placing a learner with a disability inside a regular classroom. It means instruction adapted to each learner’s needs, supported by proper assessments, individualized learning plans, trained teachers, accessible materials, and continuous professional support. Without these, what we have is not inclusive education—it is integration without infrastructure.
I do not write this to criticize the Department of Education (DepEd) or the many dedicated educators working despite limited resources. But goodwill alone cannot substitute for a system designed to support inclusive education.
Miguel deserves more than a teacher’s best guess. He deserves timely assessment, an IEP that guides his learning, and access to specialists who can help him reach his full potential. Every learner with disabilities deserves the same.
The Inclusive Education Act embodies a vision that every Filipino child has the right to quality education regardless of ability. That vision cannot be realized through legislation alone; it requires investment in qualified personnel, operational learning resource centers, accessible assessment services, teacher training, and effective monitoring.
Congress has a critical role to play. Increased funding must be matched by accountability. Local school boards should maximize use of the Special Education Fund. The DepEd must keep expanding recruitment of SNED teachers and specialists, and ensure every teacher receives practical training.
Most importantly, every learner with disabilities should enter the classroom already equipped with the support the law envisions, not waiting for teachers to discover their needs through trial and error.
I often wonder how different Miguel’s experience would have been had he been assessed before entering my classroom—had his IEP followed him from grade to grade, like his report card. Instead, his records will likely reflect what so many others do: a teacher eventually noticed, adapted as best as possible, and hoped it would be enough. That is not the standard of inclusion our laws envisioned.
Filipino learners with disabilities deserve more than good intentions. They deserve a system that identifies needs early, equips teachers adequately, and gives every child the support to learn with dignity.
Inclusion should never depend on a teacher’s improvisation. It should be the result of a system fully prepared to fulfill the promise our laws have made.
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Ernesto “Jun” Balubar is a high school teacher in Quezon City. He is one of the participants in the Second Congressional Commission on Education’s recent consultations on Special Needs Education.
