AROUND this time of the year, my social media feed fills with publicity materials announcing coaching sessions and seminars for school paper advisers and campus journalists preparing for the Department of Education’s (DepEd) Schools Press Conferences — the Department of Education Division Schools Press Conference, the Regional Schools Press Conference and the National Finals, or the National Schools Press Conference (NSPC).
Media practitioners across the country also receive messages from anxious parents, teachers and students asking for pointers on how to win in this annual competition.
Zeroing in on the radio broadcasting category, years ago, when I first saw video clips of radio production simulations done by elementary and high school students, I found them cute and entertaining. It was a novelty seeing bright kids putting on a show with so much enthusiasm. But after transitioning to radio broadcasting myself, a sobering reality set in.
These learners aren’t being trained for the real world; they are being scammed.
Sit through a radio broadcasting SPC entry and the routine is unmistakable. The moment the timer starts, students rush through their scripts. Boy anchors drop their voices into an unnaturally deep baritone or growl, and as seen on TV, mimic primetime news anchors, while girl anchors launch into a hyperventilating pitch so fast it rivals a palengke barker. Every two seconds, a production team member toggles a sound effect — a loud boom or a heavy drumbeat — drowning out the news being read.
They cram five news items, a sports report, a showbiz chika segment and an “infomercial” into a five-minute “live broadcast.” By the time the timer dings, everyone is gasping for air, and judges hand out top marks for “vocal dynamics” and “precision.”
This isn’t journalism. It’s a theatrical performance task.
Spend a morning inside an actual broadcast newsroom to see how far DepEd’s format has strayed from reality.
In a real newsroom, nobody starts the day practicing exaggerated vocal warmups in front of a mirror. Work begins at the news desk with a morning story conference. Executive producers, news directors, day desk editors and reporters meet to identify what stories to pursue or spike.
Field reporters don’t sit in air-conditioned rooms reading prepackaged scripts; they hit the road before dawn, call or visit sources for an interview or to verify facts, dig through documents and post mobile reports or send materials to the digital team.
Back at the station, writers draft scripts using short, plain language so a listener grasps the story on first listen. Background music and sound effects are not used to whip up artificial panic; they are used sparingly to frame a transition.
When the studio red light turns on at 6:30 p.m., the anchor’s primary job is not to put on a show. They are there to communicate. A seasoned broadcaster speaks conversationally, using measured pacing so the audience can digest information — whether it’s a policy announcement, a typhoon warning or a running story update.
In DepEd’s competition, foundational ethics like truthfulness, accuracy, objectivity, fairness and public accountability are replaced by a five-minute speed run where theatrics and sensationalism trump truth.
If a professional anchor spoke on air the way NSPC contestants are trained to speak, the station manager would pull them off the studio floor before the first commercial break. If a technician cued inappropriate sound effects over a serious headline, they would face disciplinary action or worse, outright termination.
By rewarding dramatic voice modulation and frantic pacing, DepEd feeds the youth an inaccurate idea of broadcast news, teaching them that sounding loud and fast matters more than accuracy, context or ethical framing.
This performative mindset quietly erodes the competence of young journalists. DepEd’s press conference format grooms them to value showmanship over truth. When these students eventually enter journalism school or work in actual newsrooms, the illusion shatters. Facing the reality of how news is gathered and processed, many suffer professional frustration and anxiety, forced to unlearn years of bad habits while realizing they were trained for a circus, not a newsroom.
The issue extends to dishonesty in other categories. In page layout and design, well-funded schools routinely hire professional graphic designers to lay out school papers, passing off commercial work as student production.
Worse, the SPC circuit has metastasized into a lucrative enterprise for journalists and pseudo-journalists acting as paid resource speakers in workshops. Several years ago, DepEd brought in a tabloid correspondent to lecture students on editorial writing in English — a speaker known in media circles for poor grammar. Yet he stood before school paper advisers and eager students, teaching the craft and collecting speaker’s fees.
When the training circuit relies on commercial shortcuts, hired guns and unqualified speakers, the competition formats inevitably value performance over truth.
Journalism is a public trust built on accuracy, clarity and duty to the truth.
DepEd must overhaul these mechanics across the board.
Campus journalists deserve a competition framework and training environment that prepares them for the real world, rather than a theatrical circus.
