OPINION: Lola Lolita’s story is inspiring. DepEd’s spin on resilience is bullsh*t

Why did she have to wait until 67 in the first place?

The viral story of Lolita Escal is undoubtedly inspiring. At 67, the salt vendor from Angono finished senior high school, ranked among the topnotchers of a college entrance exam, and pursued journalism—all after decades away from formal education.

But the Department of Education’s framing of her story is infuriating.

Amid the pasukan season, Escal’s narrative has made the rounds on social media. DepEd, seizing the opportunity, posted an eight-minute documentary about her on Aug. 11, titled “LIBRO AT ASIN: Mga Pangarap at Pagsisikap ni Lola Lolita.”

But the agency isn’t done milking her virality. After its daily pagpapabango postings, it shared photos of Escal in the classroom. The caption read, “Ang kuwento ni Lola Lolita ay patunay na hindi hadlang ang edad sa pag-abot ng mga pangarap, at hindi kailanman huli para matuto at magsimula muli.”

Sure, the documentary explains why Escal returned to school late in life. But it glosses over the harder question: Why did she have to wait until 67 in the first place?

Her father had fallen ill while her mother had just given birth. As the second of 13 siblings, she had to start working because no one in the family was employed. “Nakita ko iyong pamilya ko, tulungan ko na lang. Hindi ko na inisip na mag-aral ako, gusto ko na lang kumita,” she said.

But a 2024 GMA News report also gave a more painful detail. Escal said she stopped studying after her employer assaulted her in their province. “Natakot na ako eh, akala ko di na ako maka-recover. Nagtrabaho na lang ako,” she said.

Much of the video, however, is a PR piece for the Alternative Learning System, with testimonials from her classmates and teachers. It ends with DepEd Secretary Sonny Angara delivering the proverbial pep talk on inspiration and fulfilling dreams.

In other words, it’s Pinoy resilience all over again—and that’s precisely where the story starts to smell like bullsh*t.

Escal’s hardship is the key ingredient to the “success story”: the poor girl who worked, the mother who endured, the grandmother who finally returned to school.

There’s nothing inherently inspirational about poverty, violence, child labor, inadequate healthcare, and poor access to basic services.

And these aren’t problems from decades ago. Many Filipino children still work—or nanlilimos—instead of studying. Indigent families still choose between school and altanghap. Sex education remains inadequate. Healthcare remains inaccessible to many. Education still depends heavily on where you were born and how much your family earns.

This is where government storytelling becomes convenient. One inspirational grandmother can generate more applause than a discussion about classroom shortages, overworked teachers, poor learning outcomes, or an ALS program that remains underfunded and understaffed in many areas.

Worse, we’ve become too comfortable with resilience as content. Escal gets her “better late than never” moment, the reactions pile up, and everyone feels inspired. And voila, the circumstances that put her in that position, along with the life stories of countless other Escals, are simply waiting for their turn to go viral.

At its core, it shifts the burden from institutions to individuals.

To be perfectly clear, Escal deserves the applause. But her extraordinary resilience should not become proof that our system has worked—or is working.

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