Ever feel like we’re playing a game on “hard mode” by choice? We push our kids to be “globally competitive,” chasing after a perfect English accent, while often treating our own language as a second-class citizen in the classroom. We’ve equipped ourselves with the latest global software, but we seem to have forgotten the importance of our own operating system.

As we navigate a complex future, it's time to ask a critical question: What if the key to unlocking our true national potential isn't about perfectly mastering a foreign tongue, but about fully embracing our own?

The obsession with English as the primary key to success is understandable, but it’s a dated mindset.

English is a powerful tool, a bridge that connects us to the world — no one disputes that. But a bridge is meant to be crossed; it’s not where you build your home. When we force a child to learn complex concepts like science, mathematics, and history through the filter of a foreign language, we’re adding an unnecessary barrier. We are asking them to perform two tasks at once: first, translate the language, and second, understand the concept. It’s an intellectual handicap we impose on ourselves.

Using our own language for instruction isn’t some sentimental, backward-looking idea; it’s the ultimate life hack for national development. It’s the express lane to genuine understanding and innovation. Look at the countries we admire. Did Japan build its technological empire by teaching its future engineers in English? No, it was forged in Japanese. Did South Korea launch its cultural and economic tidal wave by sidelining Korean in its schools?

Absolutely not. Germany's world-renowned engineering prowess was, and still is, taught and perfected in German. These nations understood a simple truth: real learning—the kind that sparks creativity and critical thinking—happens most powerfully in the language of one's heart and home.

When a student learns about gravity or democracy in the language they use to tell jokes, to argue with their siblings, and to dream, the lesson sticks. It becomes part of them, not just a set of terms to be memorized for an exam. This creates a nation not of rote learners, but of true thinkers. It empowers a future scientist to not just pass a test, but to one day explain a new discovery in a way that every Filipino can understand and feel proud of. It allows a future leader to articulate a vision that resonates deep within the soul of the people, not one that just skims the surface.

Our language is the DNA of our identity. It carries our shared history, our unique humor, our collective spirit, and our deepest values. Making it the foundation of our education isn't about closing ourselves off from the world. It’s the exact opposite. It’s about building a stronger foundation from which we can confidently engage with it.

So, as we look to the future, let's rethink what a national "upgrade" truly means. It’s not just about faster internet or taller buildings. The most profound upgrade we can make is to restore the Filipino language to its rightful place at the center of our children’s education. True progress isn't just about speaking the world's language; it's about giving our own people the clearest possible voice to shape that world.