THE REAL ROOTS OF OUR JOB MISMATCH PROBLEM

THE REAL ROOTS OF OUR JOB MISMATCH PROBLEM

All ideas in this column come from Dr. Clarita Carlos. I am merely echoing them because I fully agree with her.

After I wrote about the job mismatch problem, my former professor at UP—Dr. Clarita R. Carlos—sent me what I can only describe as a clinical, no-nonsense diagnosis of our education crisis. As always, she went straight to the point: skills mismatch is only a symptom. The disease lies much deeper.

And because I believe her analysis deserves wider public attention, I am putting her commentary front and center here. This column is merely my humble attempt to amplify her voice.

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A SYSTEM GONE AWRY

Prof. Carlos begins with a stinging indictment:

1. The mismatch problem is the result of an entire educational system gone awry — from preschool to postgraduate and onward.
   In her words, we have allowed an entire lifetime of learning to rest on a shaky foundation.
   
   

2. Our reforms have been piecemeal — “a patchwork of this and that” — with no real philosophy of learning behind them.
   We revise curricula, add years, shorten years, change assessment tools, introduce new buzzwords — but with no guiding compass.
   
   

3. By the time K–12 graduates enter college, most have already gone through an “egregiously flawed first 12 years,” precisely when the brain is most primed to learn.
   What should have been their peak learning years were instead years of fragmented, incoherent, and poorly supported schooling.
   
   

This is why, she says, what we see today — job mismatch, low productivity, rising NEET rates, unemployable graduates — are only the surface cracks. The real structural rot lies beneath.

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THE ONE VARIABLE THAT MATTERS MOST

Prof. Carlos points out what educational research has consistently found but our policymakers seem to ignore:

4. School leaders rarely pay attention to empirical evidence on what truly predicts learning.
   
   

5. The best predictor of learning is simple: mastery of the subject matter by the teacher.
   A knowledgeable teacher sparks motivation. A motivated student learns — even under a mango tree.
   
   

6. Thus, even with minimal facilities, if the teacher knows the subject deeply, learning will happen.
   This is a powerful reminder that buildings don’t teach. Teachers do.
   
   

And yet, we continue to focus on infrastructure ribbon-cuttings, not teacher competence. We obsess over digital devices but ignore the human beings holding the chalk — or the tablet.

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THE TRAGEDY OF TRIFOCALIZATION

Perhaps the most structural issue Prof. Carlos raises is this:

7. “The trifocalization of the education system should stop NOW.”
   DepEd, CHED, and TESDA operate as if they are in separate universes.
   
   

This fragmentation has created three bureaucracies with overlapping functions, disconnected curricula, and no unified vision. What was meant to create specialization instead produced silos.

The result?

• Misaligned pathways
  
  

• Poor K–12 preparation
  
  

• Confusing transitions
  
  

• A labor force that does not meet industry needs
  
  

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AND THE BIGGER “WHY” OF IT ALL

Prof. Carlos ends with a line that cuts deep:

“You put politicians at the helm of our education department who have scant knowledge of the philosophy of learning — and this is one of the WHYS of where we are. At the bottom. Where else?”

We cannot keep treating education as a political reward. The system demands academic leadership, not celebrity appointments or political loyalties.

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WHERE DO WE GO FROM HERE?

If we are serious about solving job mismatch, Prof. Carlos is clear:
Fix the education system first.
Everything else is secondary.

• Strengthen teacher mastery.
  
  

• Ground reforms in a real philosophy of learning.
  
  

• Unify the fragmented education bureaucracy.
  
  

• Appoint leaders who understand education, not just politics.
  
  

I agree with her completely, and I thank her for allowing me to share these insights. If only more policymakers would listen.

RAMON IKE V. SENERES

www.facebook.com/ike.seneres iseneres@yahoo.com senseneres.blogspot.com 09088877282/06-29-2026

FOOD SOVEREIGNTY AND FOOD SUFFICIENCY

 FOOD SOVEREIGNTY AND FOOD SUFFICIENCY

I often wonder: can we make real progress on food independence not only for our nation, but starting small — right down at the barangay? It sounds ambitious, but perhaps not impossible. Inspired by Guyana, the first country in the world to break free from food imports, I think there’s something there we can learn from.

Guyana: A Beacon of Hope

A 2025 study published in Nature Food revealed that Guyana is the only country (among 186) with enough domestic production to meet its population’s nutritional needs — across all seven major food groups — without relying on imports.

This isn’t just a fluke of favorable climate: Guyana has deliberately invested in agriculture. Since 2020, its public budget for agriculture has jumped by 468 %, with GY$430.9 million allocated to rice alone in 2025. 

 Guyana is also playing a regional leadership role: under CARICOM’s “Vision 25 by 2025,” it aims to help reduce the Caribbean’s collective food import bill by 25 %. Still, some caution that true food sovereignty remains fragile: despite its production power, Guyana depends on imported fuel and fertilizers.

Why the Philippines Should Look Closer — at the Barangay Level

Here in the Philippines, we call ourselves an agricultural country — yet today, we import huge swaths of staple items: rice, flour, milk. It seems almost oxymoronic: to claim to be “agricultural” and yet rely so heavily on external supply. Can we shift that narrative — starting in our own backyards, in our own barangays?

• Food sufficiency means producing enough to meet demand. It’s about volume.
  
  

• Food sovereignty, though, is deeper: who controls the system? Sovereignty means truly not needing imports anymore.
  
  

We might not be ready to reach national sovereignty tomorrow — but why not try first at the barangay level?

Is Measuring Food Sufficiency at the Barangay Level Feasible?

I believe yes, and here are some practical ideas — grounded in existing systems:

1. Barangay Nutrition Action Plans (BNAP)
   
   

• Every barangay has a Barangay Nutrition Scholar (BNS).
  
  

• BNSs already collect data: they weigh children, interview mothers, and assess food availability.
  
  

• We could expand what they track: not just malnutrition, but local food production (crops, livestock), diversity of diets, and how many households depend on market vs locally grown food.
  
  

2. Barangay-Level Farming Data
   
   

• Leverage the Department of Agriculture’s “Plant, Plant, Plant – Adopt a Barangay” program to record how much produce is grown within each barangay.
  
  

• Track yield, the number of households involved, and surplus vs consumption.
  
  

3. Nutrition + Infrastructure Surveys
   
   

• Use community-based nutrition programs (like LAKASS) to map dietary diversity, food security, and resilience at the local level.
  
  

• Involve BAFE (Bureau of Agricultural and Fisheries Engineering), DILG, DOLE to map infrastructure: are there cold storages? Good farm-to-market roads? Storage hubs?
  
  

4. Resilience Metrics
   
   

• Document dependency on external inputs (seeds, fertilizers), vulnerability to pest outbreaks or climate shocks, and whether there are local seed banks or agroecological practices in place.
  
  

From these data points, we could build a barangay-level food sufficiency dashboard, measuring production, access, nutrition, infrastructure, and resilience.

From Barangay to Bigger Picture

If even a handful of barangays can document food sufficiency — and eventually sovereignty — imagine the ripple effect:

• Surplus from “food sovereign” barangays could be shared or traded with other barangays.
  
  

• Local models of agroecology, traditional seeds, and community control could scale up.
  
  

• Demonstrable success could build political will at higher levels — pushing toward regional or national food sovereignty.

But Let Me Ask — Is It Really That Easy?

• Do all barangays have functioning BNSs? Some may lack capacity, training, or resources.
  
  

• Even if we document production, can small communities always avoid imported inputs? Fertilizers and energy may remain bottlenecks.
  
  

• How do we mobilize support (government, NGOs, private sector) to help barangays invest in infrastructure and capacity?

Final Thoughts

Guyana’s achievement is not merely about geography or luck — it’s about political will, investment, and a people-centered vision of food. If they can do it, perhaps we can begin somewhere much smaller, but no less meaningful: the barangay.

Why not pilot a few barangays — in different regions, with different climates — to test a local food sufficiency-sovereignty model? With data, community commitment, and smart governance, we could reimagine the Philippines not just as an agricultural nation, but as one that truly feeds itself, from the ground up.

Food sovereignty may be a long journey. But at the barangay level — that walk could begin today.

RAMON IKE V. SENERES

www.facebook.com/ike.seneres iseneres@yahoo.com senseneres.blogspot.com 09088877282/06-28-2026

FLOATING GARDENS AND HOUSES ON STILTS

FLOATING GARDENS AND HOUSES ON STILTS

Is this what our future is going to look like?
With climate change accelerating, sea levels rising, and floods becoming the “new normal,” I think we should at least entertain the possibility. And if that future does come, it won’t be entirely unfamiliar. After all, floating gardens and houses on stilts already exist—not only in faraway places, but right here in the Philippines.

In many ways, these designs are not futuristic at all; they are ancient, time-tested responses to living with water rather than against it. The Bajau Laut in the Sulu Archipelago have lived in stilt houses above coral-rich shallows for centuries. In Bangladesh, floating gardens—known as dhap—keep food production going even during months of flooding. In Myanmar’s Inle Lake, floating tomato farms stretch across the horizon. And in Mexico, the Aztec chinampas remain as living proof that agriculture can thrive on water.

So if others have done it, why can’t we?

But here’s the bigger question: Should we change the way we build and farm? I think the real answer is yes—if the alternative is to continue building houses on land that is repeatedly submerged, or farming on plains that turn into lakes every rainy season. Maybe the problem is not that the water is rising, but that we haven’t risen to meet the challenge.

If floating gardens can secure food supply even in flood-prone areas, shouldn’t they be part of our national conversation on food security? Imagine low-cost rafts made of bamboo, coconut lumber, and water hyacinth—materials we already have in abundance—producing vegetables year-round. Countries like Bangladesh and South Sudan are already doing this out of necessity. Why aren’t we?

Of course, floating gardens are not the only solution. Vertical farms—stacked, climate-controlled, soil-free—are no longer sci-fi. Singapore is doing it. Japan is doing it. Even Manila has a few small prototypes. If we combine high-density housing with vertical farming, then the skyscrapers of the future could be more than just condos. They could be places where people live, work, farm, shop, exercise, even pray—all in the same building. Some modern condominiums already hint at this model, with rooftop gardens, hydroponics, and co-working spaces.

If rising water forces us to rethink our architecture, why not rethink it boldly?

But for any of this to happen, we need something the government rarely does well: looking ahead. We need building codes that allow houses on stilts—not as an exception, but as a legitimate urban design option. We need agricultural programs that support floating gardens as much as traditional farmland. We need zoning laws that understand that some areas will always flood, and instead of resisting water, we should adapt around it.

The future may be wet—but that doesn’t mean it has to be bleak. Our ancestors lived in harmony with water; maybe we’re the ones who forgot how. If we revive that wisdom and combine it with modern science, the Philippines could become a global model for climate-adaptive living.

We can choose to be victims of rising waters—or we can become architects of a floating future.

RAMON IKE V. SENERES

www.facebook.com/ike.seneres iseneres@yahoo.com senseneres.blogspot.com 09088877282/06-27-2026

WHAT IS THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN FLOOD CONTROL AND FLOOD MANAGEMENT?

 WHAT IS THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN FLOOD CONTROL AND FLOOD MANAGEMENT?

Flooding is becoming an all-too-familiar nightmare in our country, but it seems our understanding of how to deal with it hasn’t caught up. We keep talking about flood control, but what we truly need—and what we rarely deliver—is flood management.

To put it simply: flood control means building things to stop flooding. Think dams, levees, floodwalls, retention basins—the physical, structural defenses. On the other hand, flood management is smarter. It’s holistic. It combines those very structures with policy, planning, early-warning systems, smart zoning, and community preparedness.

In other words, flood control is just one piece of the puzzle. It’s like elementary school: basic, essential, but limited. Flood management, by contrast, is graduate school—it demands deeper thinking, systems-level solutions, and long-term strategy.

So why has our Congress focused almost exclusively on flood control? Why the obsession with concrete dikes and ditches? Because flood control is tangible, visible. It shows up in the budget, in construction contracts, in ribbon-cutting ceremonies. But that visibility can also be a smokescreen. There have been repeated reports of substandard flood control works, overpriced projects, even “ghost” projects. 

The Department of Public Works and Highways (DPWH) has admitted that we don’t yet have a genuine, integrated master plan for floods. We’re doing piecemeal projects—dikes here, drainage channels there—but no coordinated nationwide strategy. That fragmented approach speaks volumes about how shallow our interventions are.

Meanwhile, politicians like Senator Juan Miguel Zubiri have called out this piecemeal budgeting as a major problem. Rather than a few big, well-designed programs, what we get is scattered funds for projects that may or may not work. And critics argue that many of these projects serve the interests of contractors more than the safety of communities. Senator Panfilo Lacson has long warned of corruption and anomalies in flood control funds. 

So yes, it’s time we moved beyond just building dikes. We need flood management—a smarter, broader, more resilient system. Here’s what that would look like:

1. Integrated planning across agencies — Local governments, national agencies, and communities must coordinate. Flood management isn’t just DPWH’s job.
   
   

2. Land‐use policy and zoning — We should discourage settlements in flood-prone areas. Instead, we should direct growth toward safer zones.
   
   

3. Early-warning systems and community education — Technology matters. Alerts, evacuation routes, flood drills—all of these save lives, not just infrastructure.
   
   

4. Nature-based solutions — Restore wetlands, reforest riverbanks, rehabilitate floodplains. These act as natural sponges when the rains come.
   
   

5. Advanced technological tools — Flood prediction can be strengthened by data analytics, AI, even satellite monitoring. We can also use fluid-dynamics models to understand how water moves through our systems.
   
   

6. Policy reform backed by legislation — Bills being discussed in Congress already reflect this. 

We must spread the responsibility, not just leave it to DPWH to drop concrete where water flows. That’s what flood management calls for: a system that is both structural and adaptive. It requires long-term vision, multi-party cooperation, and yes, brighter minds.

If we continue treating flood control as our endgame, we will keep repeating the same mistakes. But if we embrace flood management—real, integrated, people-centered flood management—we just might break the cycle of flood disaster in this country.

“Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.” It's a reminder that changing outcomes requires changing structures, feedback loops, or mental models—not just repeating actions within the same paradigm.

RAMON IKE V. SENERES

www.facebook.com/ike.seneres iseneres@yahoo.com senseneres.blogspot.com 09088877282/06-26-2026