A Three-Year College Degree proposal:
A Shortcut That Misses the Point
Senator Sherwin Gatchalian’s recent proposal to reduce the length of college education to three years has stirred public discourse, largely because of the reasoning behind it. Framed as a practical move to ease the financial burden on Filipino families, the measure—known as the Three-Year College Education Act—seeks to compress the college curriculum so that parents can save on expenses like transportation, dormitory rent, and project costs.
But to many educators and observers, this justification raises red flags. While the intention may be sympathetic, the logic behind the proposal is deeply flawed. Education, after all, is not a commodity that can be trimmed for convenience. The number of years a student spends in higher education should be dictated by academic necessity, not by a desire to cut costs.
Critics argue that reducing the years of college for economic reasons sets a dangerous precedent. It is, they say, akin to suggesting that doctors, lawyers, or even priests undergo shorter training so that families may save money. The analogy may sound extreme, but the principle is the same: if society values the competence of its professionals, it must be willing to invest the time and resources required to educate them properly.
Moreover, those concerned with the measure point out that if the government truly wishes to lessen the financial strain on students and parents, there are better ways to do it—such as offering more scholarships, subsidies, or expanding free tuition programs. Shortening the length of instruction, they say, is not a solution but a shortcut that risks eroding the very integrity of Philippine higher education.
Confusing High School with College
Part of the senator’s proposal hinges on the idea that general education subjects—such as physical education, literature, and history—can be “frontloaded” in senior high school. He notes that some subjects taught in college repeat those already studied in earlier levels.
But educators have cautioned that this comparison misunderstands the very nature of tertiary education. Senior High School, as currently structured, lacks the academic freedom, research orientation, and disciplinary rigor found in universities. To assume that SHS can replace college-level general education is to conflate two vastly different stages of intellectual development.
Academic figures like Bryan T. have warned that such a shift could lead to the weakening, if not outright elimination, of key areas like the Humanities and Social Sciences. These fields, already under pressure in an increasingly technocratic world, could lose not only relevance but also funding and faculty positions if their core subjects are removed from university curricula.
Indeed, the intent to shift the humaneness of education to high school—as if it can be transferred like a checklist—is deeply questionable. If one were to ask: why are the Humanities studied in college? Why are Logic and Ethics placed there, rather than earlier? The answer lies in maturity, in depth, in timing. These disciplines require the intellectual and moral readiness that comes with age and the freedom to question—freedom that the university setting provides.
Those who appeal to practicality often do so at the expense of humanity. In their vision, education is stripped of reflection and culture, reduced to a mere assembly line producing obedient laborers. The Humanities become a luxury, not a necessity. In doing so, the education system risks raising generations that can perform tasks but cannot think critically about the systems they serve. As one educator put it: why swear the Hippocratic Oath without understanding Hippocrates?
Cynicism in the Guise of Reform
Supporters of the bill argue that “a degree is defined by the number of units, not the number of years,” suggesting that students can still achieve full qualifications within a tighter schedule. However, critics counter that compressing the same number of units into a shorter timeframe risks overburdening students and sacrificing the reflective and discursive elements that define quality higher education.
Some defenders take it further, declaring that “unnecessary” subjects—like Rizal studies or literature—should be pushed out of college curricula, especially for technical or vocational tracks. But such views reflect a utilitarian model of education: one that sees no value in subjects that do not directly feed into the labor market.
This mindset, though cloaked in the language of efficiency, is ultimately cynical. It defines education as a tool for productivity, not as a journey of discovery. In doing so, it misses the core mission of higher learning: to shape not just skills, but people—capable of reason, judgment, and civic responsibility.
Misdiagnosing the Real Problem
Many educators point out that the real crisis in Philippine education lies not in college, but far earlier. As Alimar B. observes, “If students enter college not knowing who GomBurZa were, or who led the Philippine revolution, then the problem is not the length of college, but the quality of basic education.”
Instead of trimming college down, national energy should be directed toward strengthening the foundations: better teachers in primary schools, improved curricula in high school, and genuine investment in the public education system. That is where the rot lies—not in the fourth year of college, but in the first years of learning.
Toward a True Reform
There is no shame in seeking reforms to make education more accessible. But reforms must be driven by vision, not expediency. A truly equitable educational system is one that offers both access and quality, not one that asks students to choose between them.
If lawmakers wish to relieve families of educational burdens, let them expand subsidies, build more dormitories, provide better student support. But let them not tamper with the soul of college education in the name of shallow practicality.
Education, at its core, is a long game. It must aim to produce not only employees, but citizens—thinking, feeling, capable of grappling with the complexities of their time. That takes more than three years. It takes commitment.