By Cynthia Shank and Tatiana Onofre
Every election season, the message is loud and clear: Go home, vote, and exercise your rights. But for thousands of students across the country, that call isn’t empowering. It is a source of frustration, guilt, and sacrifice. Not because they do not want to vote, but because they simply cannot.
Typically, only the election day itself is declared a special nonworking holiday. One day meant to give Filipinos time to vote, as requested by the Commission on Elections (COMELEC) and formalized by presidential proclamation.
But for students studying hundreds of kilometers away from home.
That single day is not just inconvenient, it is practically impossible for students studying hundreds of kilometers away from home.
For senior Biology student January Thea Montenegro, voting means embarking on a 22-hour journey just to reach her hometown of Surigao del Sur. “I have to take a Ceres bus to Cebu, then a boat from Cebu to Surigao,” she explains. “Imagine having to come back right after. I’d miss my final exams, classes, and even my thesis defense.”
It is a widespread issue across Philippine universities. A national problem that especially impacts students. Even as we love to praise student action, the system leaves them behind when it matters the most.
It is a cruel irony: we are told that students are the future, yet they are barely given the chance to help shape it. Because when elections and final exams collide, it’s either your degree or your democracy. You cannot do both.
But the struggle to vote doesn’t begin— or end— with distance alone. For future voter Lor Abednego S. Besario II, a Senior High School student, the barriers are more than physical; they are deeply structural.
“What I felt towards the system as a student,” he shared, “was doubt—doubt in its clarity, its efficiency, and its willingness to consider students like me.” He does not believe COMELEC places students studying far from home among its priorities (nor, frankly, does he expect them to). There are, he concedes, “more pressing problems”— overcrowded venues, disorganized voter lists, poor signage, insufficient assistance, and an overall lack of dignity in the experience of casting a vote.
These problems left unaddressed compound the logistical burden with psychological weight. Disillusionment is not apathy; it is the quiet consequence of being told, through omission, that your participation is secondary. “Public schools are used for voting,” Lor explains, “but they’re overpopulated, uncomfortable, and chaotic. Even the staff are forced to operate in tight, inadequate conditions. And the voters? Many don’t even know where they’re assigned; some especially the elderly and PWDs— are left wandering, unsupported.”
Notably, his home lies 119 kilometers from his university; not a quick journey, and certainly not one that can be completed on a whim. Were an election to fall during a critical academic period he wouldn’t protest, necessarily but the friction it causes is real. “I see no problem with it falling on a school day,” he says optimistically. “It would actually give students and teachers a bit of a break.” (Yet, underlying his words is the unspoken caveat: that break must be recognized as necessary.)
Asked whether it’s fair that college students get only one day to travel home—regardless of distance or academic load—Lor doesn’t hesitate to point out the burden. “It’s really difficult,” he says. “Students live far, have tight schedules, and are already under pressure from exams, deadlines, and schoolwork.” While some may manage, many simply cannot afford the time or money it takes to go home and vote. “You’re told to do your duty as a citizen,” he adds, “but the system makes it nearly impossible for students like us.”
For Lor, it’s not just about missing a day—it’s about choosing between responsibilities. One day is not enough when travel takes hours, and academic demands do not pause for elections.
The struggle is not about willpower; it is about logistics. And it is students who are forced to make the biggest sacrifices—often quietly, often without support.
The issue, at its core, is simple: the current voting system is not designed for young people studying away from home. Until it adapts to the reality of student life, many will continue to be excluded—not by choice, but by circumstance.
