165,000 Classrooms Short: DPWH’s Masterclass in Building Dreams That Crumble

A Scandal of Unfinished Schools and Stolen Futures

By Louis ‘Barok‘ C. Biraogo — September 21, 2025

A Child’s Dream Deferred Under a Mango Tree

In a dusty barangay in Samar, 12-year-old Ana huddles under a mango tree, her classroom a patchwork of plastic chairs and a wobbling blackboard. The sun beats down, blurring the fractions her teacher scribbles in chalk. A hundred meters away, a half-built classroom—paid for with public funds—stands like a cruel taunt, its bare concrete walls and dangling wires useless to Ana and her classmates. This is no isolated tragedy. It’s the story of millions of Filipino children cheated out of an education by a system that builds “ghost” classrooms while bureaucrats and contractors plunder the nation’s hope.

A Heist Disguised as Incompetence

The Department of Education (DepEd) dropped a bombshell that should spark national outrage: over 1,000 classrooms, constructed by the Department of Public Works and Highways (DPWH) and “handed over” to schools, are unusable—lacking paint, electricity, or basic fixtures. Some are mere shells, costing taxpayers a staggering P2.5 million to P3.7 million each, yet left to decay. Meanwhile, local government units (LGUs) and NGOs build functional classrooms for far less, often with donated labor. Perhaps the DPWH believes children learn best by candlelight in unpainted, wire-strewn rooms—a brutalist pedagogy for the 21st century.

This isn’t just mismanagement; it’s a heist. The national classroom backlog towers at 165,000, yet DepEd can only scrape together 4,000 new classrooms this year. At this glacial pace, Ana’s grandchildren will still be studying under trees. The DPWH, tasked with school construction, treats classrooms as an afterthought, prioritizing highways and bridges while children learn in hallways or sweltering tents. It’s a perverse miracle: an agency that can erect flyovers finds the humble classroom its Kryptonite.

Unpacking the Rot: Systemic Failures Exposed

Education Secretary Sonny Angara has launched a nationwide audit to uncover how these 1,000-plus classrooms were paid for yet left incomplete. Were contractors paid in full for half-finished work? Who signed the handover certificates? These are questions of accountability, not just logistics. The audit, ordered via a September 12 memorandum, demands reports on irregularities like prolonged stoppages and structural defects. But the rot runs deeper:

Procurement Gaps and Cost Inflation: DPWH’s classrooms cost up to P3.7 million each, far exceeding LGU or NGO alternatives. Senators have flagged these disparities, questioning whether corruption or inefficiencies inflate prices.
Neglected Priorities: Classrooms aren’t DPWH’s focus, slowing delivery and leaving projects incomplete amid their broader mandate.
Crippling Backlog: With 165,000 classrooms needed and only 4,000 built annually, the system is structurally broken, exacerbated by population growth and disaster damage.
Political Tug-of-War: Angara’s push to realign P134.5 billion from flood control budgets to education faces resistance from constituencies eyeing those funds.

Angara’s solution—shifting construction to LGUs and tapping private partners—makes sense. LGUs know local needs and can build faster and cheaper, as proven by community-driven projects. The Coordinating Council of Private Educational Associations (COCOPEA) backs this, urging fund realignment to education for scholarships and infrastructure. But decentralization risks uneven quality if LGUs lack capacity or oversight, potentially trading one mess for another.

The Counterarguments: Excuses or Real Risks?

Critics argue the problem isn’t just DPWH’s fault. DepEd’s planning, budget delays, or contractor greed share blame. Fair, but these are distractions when children study in tents. Others warn that LGUs might botch construction or fall prey to local patronage without strict standards. Cheaper classrooms could also mean flimsier ones, less resilient to typhoons. Yet the status quo—where DPWH’s overpriced, unusable classrooms mock students—is no gold standard. The real risk is doing nothing, letting the backlog grow while Ana’s generation loses out.

A Moral Imperative: Stop the Theft, Build the Future

Picture Ana a decade from now, her potential stifled because she couldn’t learn fractions under that mango tree. The Philippines cannot afford this betrayal—not when its youth are its greatest asset. The government must act with urgency:

Publish the Audit: Release DepEd’s findings transparently, naming contractors and officials who signed off on incomplete work.
Freeze Payments: Halt disbursements for unfinished classrooms and pursue legal action against culprits.
Pilot LGU Construction: Test decentralized building in 10–20 capable LGUs with strict oversight and public progress dashboards.
Reallocate Funds: Shift P134.5 billion from scandal-prone flood control to classrooms, scholarships, and teacher support, ensuring safeguards protect disaster-prone areas.
Scale Modular Designs: Use prefab, disaster-resilient classrooms to cut costs and speed delivery.

Ana deserves a real classroom, not a tree. Her future—and the nation’s—hangs in the balance. This is not just a policy failure; it’s a moral crime. The Philippines must stop stealing from its children and start building their dreams.