ANOTHER.

With the shocking news that another school shooting has taken place in Zamboanga, deeper and more uncomfortable questions inevitably arise. Educators are beginning to worry not only about how to teach, but also about whether they themselves are safe. Learners, who are supposed to experience school as a place of learning and refuge, may begin to see it as a place of fear. Parents understandably demand answers, but perhaps we also need to look inward. In our collective search for someone to blame, we may overlook the fact that the roots of the problem can sometimes be found much closer to home.

Having spent 15 years handling a very large school, I have learned that school safety is not created by a single policy, a security guard, or a memorandum. It is built through consistent presence, clear boundaries, relationships, parental responsibility, and the courage of school leaders to lead. These are not prescriptions, but reflections from experience.

1. Truancy.
Truancy is rarely just about a learner refusing to attend school. Sometimes, it is an expression of unmet needs, insecurity, neglect, or difficulties at home. Some learners carry frustrations they do not know how to articulate, and school becomes the place where these emotions are displayed. This does not excuse misconduct, but understanding its roots allows us to respond with both firmness and wisdom.

2. Discipline.
School leaders must establish an atmosphere where expectations are unmistakably clear. During assemblies and other gatherings, learners need to understand the rules, the reasons behind them, and the consequences of violating them. Discipline is not cruelty. In fact, genuine discipline is one of the ways we demonstrate care. We can be firm without being abusive, and compassionate without being permissive.

3. Presence of authority.
There must be a visible and reassuring presence of authority in schools. Guards, school heads, teachers, and designated personnel must be present and attentive, especially in areas where incidents are likely to occur. Children’s rights must always be respected, but rights should never be misunderstood as freedom from accountability. Protection and discipline are not opposing principles. They must work together.

4. The paging system.
Even simple systems can communicate that a school is attentive. When irresponsible or unsafe behavior is observed, appropriate reminders through the paging system can reinforce the message that the school is watching, responding, and taking its responsibility seriously. Safety is strengthened when learners know that adults are present and paying attention.

5. Responsible parenthood seminars.
For years, I conducted responsible parenthood activities with resource persons from the PNP, DSWD, and even PDEA. Parents need to understand not only their rights, but also their responsibilities under the law. The school cannot be expected to carry the entire burden of raising and disciplining children. Parents are the first teachers, the first guardians, and, in many ways, the first line of accountability.

6. Befriend.
There are learners whose truancy, defiance, or disruptive behavior is rooted in insecurity. Sometimes, the most powerful intervention is simply to make them feel that they belong. I have seen how a learner can change when a school head reaches out, listens, and allows that learner to feel welcome. There were times when learners would stay in the principal’s office, not because they were being punished, but because they knew there was an adult who cared enough to listen.

7. Parental conversations.
There were also moments when I had to disagree firmly with parents and insist on school rules. There were occasions when voices were raised, especially when someone attempted to intimidate me into compromising what I believed was right. But leadership sometimes requires the courage to stand your ground without losing respect. When parents recognize that the school leader is not fighting against them but standing for the welfare of their children, difficult conversations can eventually become constructive ones.

8. Concern. Show concern for the job.
The school and its learners are a school leader’s responsibility. Be there. Be visible. Be present. Leadership cannot be reduced to paperwork, compliance, or a position on an organizational chart. There is a growing temptation to treat work merely as something that occupies office hours, while personal pursuits compete with professional responsibilities. There is nothing wrong with rest, recreation, or personal interests. But there is also a proper time for everything. Do the work entrusted to you first, then take the time to unwind.

I know that none of these is a template that can guarantee that violence will never happen inside our schools. No school can completely predict what a troubled individual may do. And we must be careful not to label children with behavioral or psychological difficulties as inherently dangerous. Doing so can create another injustice. What we need is a whole-school approach where safety, mental well-being, discipline, child protection, parental responsibility, and community partnership reinforce one another.

Perhaps the most important reflection is this: school safety is not achieved merely by putting more people at the gates. It begins with adults taking responsibility for the children entrusted to them.

We cannot ask schools to become fortresses. Schools must remain places of learning, hope, and belonging. But neither should we allow compassion to become an excuse for the absence of boundaries, nor should the language of rights be used to silence responsible authority.

This is not about being politically convenient. It is about being responsible.

And perhaps, before we point fingers at one another, we should ask a more difficult question: What have we, as parents, educators, school leaders, communities, and society, done to make our schools places where children are not only taught, but protected, guided, corrected, heard, and cared for?

I am not claiming to have the answers.

I am simply thinking out loud, hoping that the next time we hear the word “another,” it will not be another school shooting.

 

The Demise of Civility

 

   

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There’s this thought-provoking discussion on Oprah’s podcast about the apparent demise of civility among people. A potent question was raised: “Why are people so mean these days?” We see it everywhere. Some customers yell at food servers and even destroy computers simply because their orders are late. Passengers on airplanes scream obscenities at flight attendants, while others kick the seats in front of them out of frustration. Ordinary inconveniences, it seems, have become excuses for extraordinary cruelty.

There are theories that people behave this way because of the difficult experiences they have carried from where they came from (i.e. work-related stress, family problems). But can that really be an excuse? Others point to the stress brought about by everything happening around us, especially our constant exposure to the rapid flow of information on social media. But perhaps we should also acknowledge that, to some extent, this stress is a consequence of our own indulgence in being constantly online.

Research on social media overload suggests that the sheer volume of information, interactions, and digital demands can leave people mentally exhausted. It raises an interesting question: Are we stressed by the world around us, or by our constant decision to remain connected to it? (Fu et al., 2020)

When social media came into our lives, people began to experience a kind of “power” they had never felt before. They could express themselves freely, voice opinions to a wide audience, and reveal aspects of their character, including their rudeness and hostility, with fewer reservations. In time, seeing others behave this way made such conduct easier to imitate. What was once restrained by social norms gradually became normalized.

There is also the question of personality, upbringing, and family background. These may shape how people respond to stress and conflict. When the right trigger comes, perhaps what emerges is not an entirely different person, but a side of them that has been shaped by years of experience and conditioning. If so, we are left with an uncomfortable question: Are some of the behaviors we see today also reflections of how people were taught to handle frustration, disagreement, and other people?

Perhaps the real question is not why people have become so mean, but why we have become so comfortable with it. Stress may explain our anger, social media may amplify it, and our past may shape it, but none of these should excuse cruelty.

Civility is ultimately a choice. In a world that is becoming increasingly loud and hostile, choosing kindness may be one of the quietest yet most powerful forms of strength.

Unapologetic

 

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You are quick to question my actions, yet conveniently blind to your own. When exactly did professionalism, class, and the ability to act with finesse become something to mock? And since when did being loud, crude, and uncultured become preferable to carrying yourself with dignity?

Yes, these are different times. Never has it been easier for everyone to voice an opinion online. But does having the freedom to speak automatically make you right?

And does expressing sober thoughts, measured opinions, and morally attuned convictions suddenly make them wrong simply because they do not conform to your perspective? What, then, is your template for determining what is right and wrong? Your childhood? Your personal experiences? Your own understanding of the world?

We live in a time when opinions are often posted hastily, and information is consumed without the patience to examine its substance, context, or even the construction of a sentence. The more controversial the content, the more likely it is to become the talk of the town, while scholarly, thoughtful, and intellectually grounded perspectives are easily drowned out.

There seems to be a growing appetite for online entertainment, where outrage, novelty, and controversy often receive more attention than substance. Somewhere along the way, the purpose of learning appears to have been pushed to the sidelines. We scroll for amusement, react for validation, and share for attention, while the discipline of reading, thinking, questioning, and learning slowly becomes an afterthought. In an increasingly commercialized digital environment, human attention and behavior have become valuable commodities, shaping what people see, consume, and engage with (Zuboff, 2019).

Yet, there are still people who lust for the written word, who find nourishment in language and in the beautiful arrangement of words that somehow feeds the soul. There are still those who hunger for journalism where truth remains at its core. There are bookworms who linger in bookstores, reading blurbs, turning pages, and willingly wasting time simply to think.

And please, do not make fun of us. We may not be the majority, but we are still here. We still read. We still think. We still believe that words matter. And perhaps, in a world that is increasingly rushing to speak, that is reason enough for us to remain.

Yes, we may be boring to you, but do not mistake our quietness for being wrong.

When Primary Becomes Secondary

 

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You convince yourself that you are doing your job well. In fact, you have become even better at doing other things. But do you remember the days when you longed for this position? You worked tirelessly, made sacrifices, and did whatever it took to reach where you are now.

Yet somewhere along the way, you became lukewarm toward the very responsibilities you once aspired to embrace. The work that once gave you purpose slowly became secondary, replaced by pursuits that drew your attention away from your calling.

Have you ever paused to visit your inner self? Have you asked what emptiness you are trying to fill, or what validation you are seeking, when the very work entrusted to you is being left behind?

These are valid questions because we often witness people who gradually allow their real work to become secondary, until even the ordinary responsibilities of their position begin to feel burdensome. Some squander precious resources, especially time, while convincing themselves that they are doing well.

Others drift away from the work entrusted to them in pursuit of fulfillment that their responsibilities alone seem unable to provide. Many recognize these patterns within themselves yet choose to rationalize or dismiss them because confronting one's inner deficiencies demands honesty and courage.

As people lose sight of the purpose of their work, they often seek fulfillment in pursuits that offer temporary satisfaction but gradually distance them from their true responsibilities. Meaningful work requires more than competence. It requires a clear sense of purpose and fidelity to one's calling.

When that sense of purpose weakens, even ordinary duties can begin to feel like burdens. Rediscovering one's calling, therefore, begins with an honest examination of one's motivations and the reasons behind one's actions (Frankl, 2006).

What is even more troubling is that some begin to resent those who remain faithful to their responsibilities. Instead of allowing themselves to be challenged by such examples, they dismiss them as attention seekers, people pleasers, or individuals with a superiority complex.

Such labels can become convenient shields against uncomfortable self-reflection. It is often easier to question another person's motives than to confront the possibility that one's own commitment has faded. In doing so, they distance themselves from the difficult truth that they may no longer be giving their work the dedication it deserves.

So, stop painting me as the enemy. Perhaps I am not the foe you imagined. Perhaps the real adversary is not the person who remains faithful to the work, but the part of us that refuses to confront the truth.

Before judging those who simply strive to fulfill their calling, ask yourself whether the discomfort they awaken comes from their actions, or from the distance between who you once wanted to be and who you have become.

The Making of a Sick Mind

 

  

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These bomb threats in schools are becoming increasingly alarming. What some students, or even outsiders, dismiss as a prank is, in reality, a serious act that spreads fear, disrupts learning, and undermines the safety every school deserves. More than a disciplinary issue, it reflects a deeper problem that cannot be ignored.

Some young people who lack healthy affirmation and struggle with low self-worth may seek attention through harmful acts. They may mistake fear for influence and notoriety for significance. While this does not explain every case, it reminds us that destructive behavior often has roots that extend beyond the classroom.

Children reflect the adults who raise them and the society that shapes them. When responsible parenting weakens, schools inevitably confront the consequences. In an age where online validation often competes with meaningful relationships, children need more than provision. They need guidance, presence, and consistent examples. After all, they learn more from what adults do than from what adults say.

Teachers, meanwhile, are increasingly challenged in maintaining discipline. Some students invoke their rights without recognizing that rights are inseparable from responsibilities, leaving educators hesitant to enforce appropriate corrective measures. At the same time, social media has made it easier for harmful behaviors, including bomb threats and bullying tactics seen elsewhere, to be imitated locally.

Respect for authority must be restored through leadership that is firm, fair, and lawful. As a school principal, I learned that discipline is not about intimidation but about accountability. By consistently enforcing rules, involving parents, and working within the law, I found that students were less likely to challenge legitimate authority because they understood that expectations were clear and consistently upheld.

Research supports this approach. Schools that practice authoritative discipline, enforcing rules firmly, fairly, and consistently, report lower levels of bullying and victimization (Gregory et al., 2010). Students are more likely to respect authority when discipline is just, predictable, and guided by due process.

Every bomb threat begins long before the message is sent. It begins where responsibility is neglected, values are left untaught, and authority is allowed to weaken. Safer schools will not be built by security measures alone, but by homes that nurture, schools that discipline justice, and communities that choose to build character stronger than fear. 

Mirror First

 

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Don't you realize you're already old enough to stop acting like a child? Emotional growth should accompany physical growth. If you are already in your forties or fifties yet still cannot regulate your emotions and continue to react like an immature child, perhaps it is time to ask yourself an uncomfortable question: Have you neglected your own personal growth?

Growing older is inevitable; growing up is a choice.

You may refuse to control your emotional outbursts. You may never take the time to confront your insecurities, shortcomings, and unresolved issues. Instead, you may find it easier to blame others for your behavior. Whether you fail to recognize your own immaturity, deliberately ignore it, or have simply allowed unhealthy emotional habits to become deeply ingrained, the outcome is the same: you deny yourself the opportunity for genuine growth.

Individuals who habitually blame others for their reactions often demonstrate poor emotional regulation and limited self-awareness, two fundamental components of emotional intelligence. Genuine maturity begins when you stop justifying your behavior through external circumstances and honestly examine your own thoughts, emotions, and actions (Mayer & Salovey, 1995).

The more troubling reality is that people who refuse to examine themselves can be found everywhere. They occupy positions in government, lead organizations, manage workplaces, and are even part of our own circles of friends and families. Instead of fostering growth, encouraging dialogue, and inspiring wisdom, they often suppress opportunities for learning and personal development. Their inability to manage themselves creates environments where fear replaces trust, conflict overshadows collaboration, and growth struggles to take root.

A vicious cycle of negativity soon follows wherever such individuals hold influence. Over time, these unhealthy behaviors become normalized as others tolerate, excuse, or even imitate them simply to avoid conflict. What begins as one person's emotional immaturity gradually erodes sound judgment, weakens values, and stifles both personal and collective growth. When destructive conduct goes unchallenged, it eventually ceases to be the exception and becomes the culture.

So, you choose to focus on my mistakes and celebrate my small setbacks? Why not examine your own missteps and learn from them instead? The energy you spend criticizing others could become the very force that transforms your own character. In doing so, you can contribute something meaningful to the world, making your life a source of growth and purpose rather than one consumed by resentment and contempt.

In the end, your greatest enemy is not the person you criticize but the person you refuse to become. The world has never needed more critics; it has always needed more people willing to master themselves.

Spotlight Effect and Social Comparison

 

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You think you are better than everyone else. They think the very same about themselves. In their eyes, they are better than you. Pride, after all, is rarely a one-sided illusion.

Ironically, the same mind that convinces us of our own importance can also convince us that everyone is watching us. Whether through pride or insecurity, we often place ourselves at the center of other people's attention.

I once had a godchild ask me if he looked presentable. I smiled and told him that he did. Then I shared something I have long believed: do not worry too much about how others see you. Most people are too occupied with their own appearance, worries, and insecurities to scrutinize yours. Just as you wonder how you look, they are wondering the very same thing about themselves.

Psychologists call this the spotlight effect. It is our tendency to overestimate the extent to which other people notice and evaluate our appearance, behavior, or mistakes. Because our own experiences dominate our awareness, we naturally assume they occupy the attention of others as well. In reality, most people are equally absorbed in their own concerns, making the spotlight we imagine far less intense than we believe (Gilovich et al., 2000).

For some, this illusion becomes a prison. They gradually retreat into their shells, developing a self-limiting disposition driven by the fear of being judged. The imagined scrutiny of others discourages them from speaking freely, taking risks, and embracing opportunities that could help them grow.

This should not be confused with social comparison. While the spotlight effect concerns how much attention we think others give us, social comparison involves evaluating our worth, abilities, or appearance against those of other people. Although distinct, both distort how we see ourselves.

Left unchecked, these tendencies can hinder personal growth and impede the development of individuality. When people become preoccupied with imagined judgment or relentless comparison, they suppress their authentic selves, avoid meaningful opportunities, and limit their potential. In doing so, they diminish not only their own fulfillment but also the unique contributions they can offer to society and the greater good.

So, do you believe that everyone is watching your every move? Do you feel compelled to keep pace with everyone else's achievements, appearance, or success? If so, you may be falling into the traps of the spotlight effect and social comparison. The greatest freedom begins when you realize that most people are not judging your life; they are simply trying to make sense of their own.

The spotlight you fear exists mostly in your mind. The light that truly matters is the one you bring to the world.