28/07/2026
๐ข๐ฃ๐๐ก๐๐ข๐ก| ๐ฟ๐ค ๐๐๐ฉ๐๐จ ๐๐๐๐ฅ ๐๐จ ๐๐๐๐, ๐๐ง ๐ฟ๐ค ๐๐? by Avril Louise T. Pinoy
Every morning before I can even set foot inside the school, it starts with unzipping my bagโbecause safety walks in before lessons do.The first thing I see is the students of COBNHS all lined up at the school gateโthe queue stretched up so far it had reached our school neighbor's fence. At the entrance, police officers stand by with a quiet, cool gaze upon students. The guards have transitioned from checking IDs and allowing students to enter the school without scrutiny to now surrounding the open doors to scan our bags and pockets, ensuring that no one passes by without being inspected.
Being safe is never too much, right? At first, I initially thought to myself that the new policy was a great way of keeping the school environment and community saferโpreventing physical harm, injury, and danger. A week has passed since the inspection, during which the guards confiscated my scissors, the metal forks I use to eat lunch, and any other sharp objects. My initial reaction was how outrageous I thought it was. Although, am I just being dramatic? Or are there far more things to consider here?
As I began to gradually mature from the inspection, which is no surprise we will be getting every day since, I realized we have to look for solutions and adapt to the system now that the supplies we used to be able to bring to school have been limited: plastic utensils instead of metal, keeping sharp objects at home, and thinking twice about what we bring inside. It teaches us how to act responsibly and how the things we bring inside can affect everyone else. The government is strict for a good reason: to protect the place where we grow, learn, and belong.
However, one question lingers: why do we believe students would resort to physical violence? At its core lies mental health, a crucial, often overlooked and deeply serious matter. Inspection is still insufficientโit fails to stop or scan the thoughts of mentally unstable, depressed, diagnosed students, which can lead to major cases affecting others. Last year, when school violence surged in Nueva Ecija, DepEd issued guidelines to boost anti-bullying efforts, local coordination, and a stricter system while openly admitting we need more guidance counselors and advocates. Yet once headlines faded, these urgent needs were set aside again, waiting for the next crisis to resurface. It feels like we receive promises when they are most needed, but there is little follow-through once the initial excitement fades.
DepEd and the government have already issued orders to hire more guidance counselors and professionals in all public schools on July 23-24, 2026. But looking at the situation today, is this enough? Are these positions being filled, and are the orders being executed? Are schools effectively filling these positions and executing the orders properly? Has the information reached all schools in the Philippines, including ours? The more I ask, the more I realize that policies on paper mean little if they do not turn into real, consistent, accessible help for everyone.
COBNHS's establishment of the Guidance Care Center is crucial; while we await consistent national support, it provides a space for those who feel unseen and unheard. It stands as proof that safety is not about gates but rather also about reaching out, listening, and giving students a place where they could breathe freely. We must not let urgent safety and support protocols fade; they need to stay in place for every student, administrator, and adult to stay safe every day. We acknowledge the school administration's efforts to provide this safe space for us. These local efforts cannot thrive in isolation. They need ongoing backing from national levelsโnot just new orders, but enough counselors, resources, and commitment for every COBnian to reach, where no one waits long to be heard. These efforts will work best when all of us take part.
In my personal experience, Ma'am Sarah Bautista Cruzโour school's guidance counselor โhas taught me more than just comforting words but has also given me advice on where I could be tougher in a world of cruelty. Where my eyes wept in the back of the room, Ma'am Sarah attentively listened and comprehended every stuttering word I uttered.
The Guidance Care Center is not a stereotypical place that many believe it to be; it is not just a space where people say, "Lagot ka, mapapaguidance ka!" as if it were a space meant to make students timid. It's a safe space where students can finally breathe freely. Therefore, I encourage more students who are struggling in silence; I encourage more students who struggle secretly to seek the assistance they need without fear.
Security checks are often the first stage for safety. We need more than just gates and scanners to truly make the halls of COBNHS the safe haven that we students yearn for; we need people who promote awareness and freely express everyone's emotions. A space where we can speak up about our struggles without having the fear of being labeled as "weak" or "difficult." We must advocate for the national support that every school, including COBNHS, needs.
If we really want the school of COBNHS to be a much more secure, safer, and encouraging community, we need the help and assistance from school administrators, especially our students. Safety is not a ruleโit's a right, whether it's physical, verbal, mental, or even online. COBNHS is a supportive environment where students feel safe pursuing their dreams, and teachers and administrators provide assistance to those in need. We unzip our bags, checking for everything we bring, but there are more things than just physical inspection: unscrewing the bottled feelings of students that leave scars in the community. Objects are not the only things we should be observing, but rather the feelings of students who face battles every day, without the protocols drifting away once a serious case has "settled."
