“Ang kabataan ay ang pag-asa ng bayan,” said Dr. Jose Rizal.
And I know—we’ve heard this quote over and over again—used in countless essays, lectures, speeches, and classrooms. To be frank, I was quite hesitant to use it myself. But in this case, it fits, because if we truly believe the youth are the hope of our nation, then we owe them an education system that puts learning above profit.
Picture this: you had just finished paying for your tuition and already bought a full set of secondhand books from students a level above you—trying to save just a little bit of cash—only to find out that half of them aren’t even usable for your subjects. Maybe the professor changed the required edition. Maybe the school partnered with a new publisher. Maybe it’s the same book with a different cover and shuffled chapters. Yet, you’re still told you need to buy it. Or you’ll fail.
What if the very system built to lift us up is silently pulling us down? What if one of the biggest scams in this country isn’t on the streets, but inside our “second homes”—published, printed, and purchased as textbooks?
Paying for Pages
Textbooks in the Philippines can cost anywhere from ₱500 to ₱2,000 each—thousands of pesos vanish from family budgets every semester. For many students and families, this means making tough decisions between what to compromise: education or basic needs?
To add insult to injury, even those benefiting from scholarships or free tuition in state universities face this burden, as textbooks remain an out-of-pocket expense that must be shouldered; adding another layer of financial stress to an already challenging journey.
Profit over Purpose
Let’s be real for a minute: the textbook industry has become a business, not a tool for learning. The original purpose of textbooks has been replaced by a business model that thrives on inaccessibility.
According to the Philippine Consumer Price Index, textbook prices have risen about 9.6% between 2018 and 2024. This system favors publishers, institutions, and sometimes even instructors—while students and parents are left to carry the cost, both literally and figuratively. Education International also states that many textbooks are updated frequently, not necessarily due to major content changes, but often to push new editions, forcing students to buy new copies instead of using cheaper, older versions.
As a student myself, I’ve felt these burdens firsthand. Just when I thought that I saved enough, helping my parents by holding on to last year’s edition, a “new” version drops, and I am forced to spend more or risk falling behind. It feels less like chasing a dream and more like chasing after a never-ending funding cycle for those behind this system. It’s enraging knowing that while we’re struggling to keep up, those profiting from these cycles benefit financially from our “contributions.” Education should be about opening doors, not closing them because of prices.
Purchased yet Purposeless
It is heartbreaking how many of these expensive textbooks end up barely used. I’ve been there myself: lugging around thick, heavy books that I rarely open beyond a few pages. Sometimes, the textbook isn’t even referenced in class, or the professor only assigns tasks that don’t justify the price we paid. Yet, despite this reality, we’re still expected to shell out hundreds or thousands of pesos for books that don’t always deliver the value we need.
It feels like a betrayal. We’re told these textbooks are essential for our education, but many of us barely use them beyond the first month of class. I’ve seen friends hesitate to buy certain books because they know they won’t get their money’s worth, but the pressure to keep up—and the fear of failing—forces them to buy anyway. This disconnect between cost and actual use only adds to the sense that the system values profit over purpose.
Why should we pay for learning materials that we don’t even utilize?
Pages to Power
First, I would suggest digital alternatives, as they can lighten the load on students and their families. E-books, open educational resources, educational videos, and online libraries provide affordable—even free—access to such learning materials. These options not only cut costs, but more importantly make it simpler for students to access up-to-date content anytime, anywhere. Schools and government agencies in the Philippines should invest more in digital infrastructure and promote these tools as viable alternatives to expensive printed textbooks.
If printed books are truly needed, then they should be used wisely and sustainably. Schools can encourage the use of secondhand or donated books instead of requiring brand-new copies every year. Publishers should also avoid releasing “new editions” that offer little to no content changes. By promoting book reuse and responsible publishing practices, we can make education more affordable and reduce waste—guaranteeing that printed learning materials serve their true purpose without becoming a financial strain.
But these solutions alone won’t fix the bigger problem—like putting a bandaid on a broken bone. We need to monitor the ways textbooks are produced, priced, and processed. Publishers must be held accountable for fair and reasonable pricing, and educational institutions should prioritize the actual learning needs of students instead of lining the pockets of those who profit from this cycle. We must demand transparency. We must demand fairness. We must demand accessibility in these policies. We must know better, because knowing better means not settling for less. After all, education is not a business—it is a Constitutional right that should never be compromised by costs.
Where education is a lifeline for millions, turning learning into a profit scheme is cruel.
And I know—we’ve heard this quote over and over again—used in countless essays, lectures, speeches, and classrooms. To be frank, I was quite hesitant to use it myself. But in this case, it fits, because if we truly believe the youth are the hope of our nation, then we owe them an education system that puts learning above profit.
Picture this: you had just finished paying for your tuition and already bought a full set of secondhand books from students a level above you—trying to save just a little bit of cash—only to find out that half of them aren’t even usable for your subjects. Maybe the professor changed the required edition. Maybe the school partnered with a new publisher. Maybe it’s the same book with a different cover and shuffled chapters. Yet, you’re still told you need to buy it. Or you’ll fail.
What if the very system built to lift us up is silently pulling us down? What if one of the biggest scams in this country isn’t on the streets, but inside our “second homes”—published, printed, and purchased as textbooks?
Paying for Pages
Textbooks in the Philippines can cost anywhere from ₱500 to ₱2,000 each—thousands of pesos vanish from family budgets every semester. For many students and families, this means making tough decisions between what to compromise: education or basic needs?
To add insult to injury, even those benefiting from scholarships or free tuition in state universities face this burden, as textbooks remain an out-of-pocket expense that must be shouldered; adding another layer of financial stress to an already challenging journey.
Profit over Purpose
Let’s be real for a minute: the textbook industry has become a business, not a tool for learning. The original purpose of textbooks has been replaced by a business model that thrives on inaccessibility.
According to the Philippine Consumer Price Index, textbook prices have risen about 9.6% between 2018 and 2024. This system favors publishers, institutions, and sometimes even instructors—while students and parents are left to carry the cost, both literally and figuratively. Education International also states that many textbooks are updated frequently, not necessarily due to major content changes, but often to push new editions, forcing students to buy new copies instead of using cheaper, older versions.
As a student myself, I’ve felt these burdens firsthand. Just when I thought that I saved enough, helping my parents by holding on to last year’s edition, a “new” version drops, and I am forced to spend more or risk falling behind. It feels less like chasing a dream and more like chasing after a never-ending funding cycle for those behind this system. It’s enraging knowing that while we’re struggling to keep up, those profiting from these cycles benefit financially from our “contributions.” Education should be about opening doors, not closing them because of prices.
Purchased yet Purposeless
It is heartbreaking how many of these expensive textbooks end up barely used. I’ve been there myself: lugging around thick, heavy books that I rarely open beyond a few pages. Sometimes, the textbook isn’t even referenced in class, or the professor only assigns tasks that don’t justify the price we paid. Yet, despite this reality, we’re still expected to shell out hundreds or thousands of pesos for books that don’t always deliver the value we need.
It feels like a betrayal. We’re told these textbooks are essential for our education, but many of us barely use them beyond the first month of class. I’ve seen friends hesitate to buy certain books because they know they won’t get their money’s worth, but the pressure to keep up—and the fear of failing—forces them to buy anyway. This disconnect between cost and actual use only adds to the sense that the system values profit over purpose.
Why should we pay for learning materials that we don’t even utilize?
Pages to Power
First, I would suggest digital alternatives, as they can lighten the load on students and their families. E-books, open educational resources, educational videos, and online libraries provide affordable—even free—access to such learning materials. These options not only cut costs, but more importantly make it simpler for students to access up-to-date content anytime, anywhere. Schools and government agencies in the Philippines should invest more in digital infrastructure and promote these tools as viable alternatives to expensive printed textbooks.
If printed books are truly needed, then they should be used wisely and sustainably. Schools can encourage the use of secondhand or donated books instead of requiring brand-new copies every year. Publishers should also avoid releasing “new editions” that offer little to no content changes. By promoting book reuse and responsible publishing practices, we can make education more affordable and reduce waste—guaranteeing that printed learning materials serve their true purpose without becoming a financial strain.
But these solutions alone won’t fix the bigger problem—like putting a bandaid on a broken bone. We need to monitor the ways textbooks are produced, priced, and processed. Publishers must be held accountable for fair and reasonable pricing, and educational institutions should prioritize the actual learning needs of students instead of lining the pockets of those who profit from this cycle. We must demand transparency. We must demand fairness. We must demand accessibility in these policies. We must know better, because knowing better means not settling for less. After all, education is not a business—it is a Constitutional right that should never be compromised by costs.
Where education is a lifeline for millions, turning learning into a profit scheme is cruel.
I
Written by Insight PH
Insight PH is a dedicated campus journalist and contributor. Their insightful writing sparks meaningful conversations and keeps the community informed.
