Every year, the National Schools Press Conference (NSPC) is held as the highest stage for young Filipino campus journalists. It is a celebration of talent, hard work, and the enduring power of the written word. The 2025 NSPC showcased the talent and grit of approximately 3,300 delegates from the 17 participating regions.  But behind the glimmering medals and photo-ops lies a weighty crown. A crown resting uneasily atop a system riddled with inequitable entry slots, structural imbalances, and outdated practices in need of reform.


The NSPC was designed to promote freedom of the press and uphold journalistic standards among student journalists. Its roots trace back to 1931, when the first national press meet was held in Pasig under the Philippine Secondary Schools Press Association. After a wartime hiatus, the conference resumed in 1948 and evolved into today’s NSPC through Republic Act No. 7079, the Campus Journalism Act of 1991. This law enshrined the right to campus press freedom and established the annual conference as its central national event.

But in practice, it is often reduced to a contest, not of ideas, but of strategy, privilege, and access. The system, shaped around rigid rubrics and regional quotas, can feel more like a scholastic competition than a meaningful exercise in journalism. 

The selection process is framed as meritocratic, even though opportunities are unevenly distributed across the archipelago. Some regions send over 80 participants, others fewer than 30. Region IV-A (CALABARZON) sent approximately 66 delegates this year, while the Bangsamoro Autonomous Region of Muslim Mindanao (BARMM) sent 194 delegates for the NSPC and National Festival of Talents combined. The numbers are shaped not just by journalistic performance, but by a quota system: but by a quota system: since 2023, only regional champions per event are allowed to proceed, a drastic cut from previous years that allowed the top three. School paper qualifications are capped at the top 10 per section and medium. These rules, outlined in DepEd’s official memoranda, were never widely consulted, publicly clarified, or uniformly communicated, fueling confusion and disparity.

This imbalance benefits those who are already resourced, populous, and visible. Regions with better access to training, funding, and institutional support, such as Region IV-A, which issued its regional guidelines as early as December 2024 and began preparations months ahead of the national memo, are more likely to produce successful delegates. Meanwhile, students from under-resourced or geographically remote areas often face limited opportunities to compete on equal footing. As a result, the structure, rather than amplifying diverse voices, can end up reinforcing the silence of those at the margins.

In an age when information flows freely and disinformation grows ever more complex, when journalists like Jessica Soho remind us of the moral weight of our profession, we must ask: What is the NSPC really preparing students for? Is it training them to be watchdogs of the public interest, or only champions of a rigid contest?

There is a deep and growing dissonance between the ideals of campus journalism and the culture that dominates the NSPC. Journalism demands courage, context, and conscience. A contest demands conformity. Students are not always judged for the relevance or urgency of their stories, but for how well they fit a predetermined mold. Even the word “conference” feels misplaced when competition replaces discussion, and critique is disqualified as complaint.

In some cases, this disconnect has led to ethical breakdowns. Just recently, an online publishing finalist was reported to have submitted a plagiarized cartoon, with visual evidence circulating online. Yet, despite public attention, no investigation or statement followed. Silence prevailed. What kind of crown is this, if it is won without integrity?

This silence is not isolated. Across regions, advisers routinely instruct students to sanitize their work. “Stick to safe topics,” they are told. “Don’t touch politics.” The established rubrics reward formatting and conformity, not critical analysis or moral clarity. Writers are trained to win. Not to speak truth to power, but to speak safely, strategically. Students learn to craft articles that are palatable, not powerful.

And so, the burden grows heavier. Many young journalists begin to internalize a narrow sense of worth tied to medals and rankings. They carry the pressure of being “national-level” as if that is the only way to matter. But the real weight comes from the absence of spaces where they can write honestly, critically, and freely outside of this narrow funnel. Platforms that could democratize youth journalism remain underfunded, undervalued, or unreachable.

Outside the NSPC, there are few accessible avenues for student writers to publish fearless, grounded journalism. Independent youth platforms exist, but they are chronically underfunded and often sidelined. Without broad institutional support, their reach remains limited.

There is, however, a rising consciousness. Student journalists across regions are voicing concerns—not just online but within their circles, publications, and forums. Their message is consistent: the system is flawed, and change is overdue. Whether by reforming the system from within or reimagining alternatives beyond it, young writers are beginning to assert that their voices deserve space and legitimacy, with or without the crown.

There is also the question of relevance. The journalism modeled in NSPC still often centers on the outdated: inverted pyramids, impersonal leads, and formulaic structures. Real-world issues are included, but only at the surface. Students are rarely invited to critique power, not even the power structures of the NSPC itself. This is not journalism. It is a simulation.

The path forward must begin with reimagining. The Department of Education, NSPC organizers, and other stakeholders, as well as the campus journalists, school, and regional divisions that make up the nation, must stand in solidarity with those voices and advocate for structural reform. First, delegate allocations must be made transparent and equitably distributed based on clear criteria and funding support. Second, organizers must establish formal channels for student feedback and critique, rather than dismissing it as noise. Third, rubrics must be revised to recognize not just technical execution but journalistic relevance, depth, and ethical commitment.

Additionally, the NSPC must forge formal partnerships with independent youth platforms and journalism schools, providing mentorship, publication avenues, and post-conference engagement that allow students to pursue journalism beyond the contest setting. Only then can we nurture a generation of journalists who see the press not as a podium, but as a public service.

Because in the end, it is not the medal that makes the journalist. It is the willingness to bear the weight of truth. And if we cannot hear that truth within the walls of the NSPC, then we must ask what purpose the crown serves at all.

When a crown falls, the sound is deafening. We, as the young scribes of the nation, must not let it fall. We must write not to be adorned, but to uphold. To carry the weight, even when it trembles. To ensure that the crown, if it is to be worn at all, is earned not by silence, but by truth.