
They can open doors, but they don’t determine how far you go as an employee.
In the coming days, your news feed would feel like a never-ending graduation roll call: togas or sablays in profile photos, heartfelt essays as captions, and that unmistakable mic-drop closer: “CUM LAUDE,” “MAGNA CUM LAUDE,” “SUMMA CUM LAUDE.”
News flash: the number of such posts would exceed the number of your fingers. Scroll long enough, and you’d start to lose count. What used to be exceptional now feels expected.
There’s no argument that Latin honors are something to be proud of. For some, they’re proof that pagsusunog ng kilay—especially amid life’s pressures—has finally paid off. Older viewers may even take comfort in the idea that the next generation is full of academic standouts.
But here’s the rub: Latin honors don’t carry as much weight in the outside world.
In the workplace, the recognition system shifts. You’re no longer a dean’s lister maintaining 1.0 or 4.0. There’s no “cum laude” attached to your performance. Even your alma mater or school organization become far less relevant.
Work is measured through deliverables submitted, deadlines met, problems solved, and how you function with your teammates over time. Unlike school, assessment is continuous and not cumulative. There are no final grades that define your standing.
Beyond output is something less measurable but essential: character. It’s not just about technical skill. You must listen, be kind, and practice pakikisama—adjusting to and cooperating with colleagues from different backgrounds.
Make no mistake, there are tangible rewards for hard work. Like students who go through pagsusunog ng kilay, diligent employees score high in performance reviews. They can get salary increases or promotions, thanks to their quality output, consistency, and reliability.
Before, Latin honors mattered in job applications. In a stack of résumés, they stood out in entry-level hiring where experience was limited. Though not a guarantee of employment, they often earn closer attention.
But that edge has thinned. Employers now receive hundreds of applicants with Latin honors—for the same position. What used to be a clear point of distinction has become too common, to the point that its value has diminished.
On a more personal note, in over a decade of journalism work, some of my colleagues weren’t Latin honor graduates. Others didn’t even finish school. Yet many are among the most capable and credible in the industry—especially amid the ongoing political circus, disinformation, and AI.
In the literary world, academic standing has never defined output. Those I know who regularly publish in journals, magazines, and books didn’t necessarily excel in school. If they win awards for their writing, it’s often a bonus. What defines them is grit.
Grade hyperinflation
There’s another layer as to why too many Latin honors can feel surreal.
In 2022, or two years since the COVID-19 pandemic lockdowns forced classes to go online, then-University of the Philippines journalism professor Danilo Arao questioned how and why 1,433 students earned Latin honors—including 147 summa cum laude, 652 magna cum laude, and 634 cum laude.
Arao raised the possibility of “grade hyperinflation,” where there’s an “A level increase in scores that don’t match quality of academic works.” He also pointed to “grade solicitation,” though UP officials pushed back against such claims, instead citing the intellectual strength of graduates as among the first batch of K-12 students.
The following year, Butch Dalisay echoed similar concerns in his The Philippine STAR column. He said he “couldn’t help but be bothered” that over half of 2023’s graduates earned Latin honors. Out of 3,359 graduates, 2,243 earned Latin honors, with 305 summa cum laude, 1,196 magna cum laude, and 742 cum laude.
Dalisay noted that a decade ago, only 15 out of 4,365 graduates received Latin honors. He attributed the spike to pandemic-era academic conditions, including “enforced laxity in grading,” the lockdown, Zoom classes, lack of access to physical libraries or laboratories, little face-to-face social interactions, and the “critical eye” of loved ones.
He also cited institutional adjustments: a “no-fail” policy; extended deadlines for incomplete grades; limits on dropping students for absences or lack of communication; deferred grades; suspension of scholastic delinquency and retention policies; and the exclusion of pandemic-period grades earned from certain assessment windows.
This 2026, these shifts are no longer confined to a single university or the pandemic. Even as COVID-19 is no longer a global health emergency, the grading patterns and academic adjustments have largely remained part of the system.
Latin honors, once elusive and extraordinary, have become familiar—too familiar, overly familiar.
And as they say, familiarity breeds contempt.
Work is measured through deliverables submitted, deadlines met, problems solved, and how you function with your teammates over time.
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