ACROSS THE Philippines, the Commission on Higher Education has recorded that about 8% of the total student population simultaneously juggle school and work.  Oftentimes, work for these students is a necessity to fund their education, yet even then, nearly half of working students still drop out of school due to financial circumstances. 

Despite an existing community of working students in the Ateneo, they are obscured by the presumption that all students of the University have the financial stability to pay for their tuition and other expenses. As assumptions and real experiences clash, working Ateneans and their lives beyond the school day are left for discussion.

After the bell rings

While student stress is often framed in terms of academic load, the reality of labor after class is rarely at the center of conversations. For students like Gelo* and Kevin*, employment is not a discretionary side pursuit but a condition for remaining enrolled.

In Gelo’s case, he completes a graveyard shift before heading to his afternoon lectures with only a few hours of sleep. This arrangement began after his parents encountered financial difficulties overseas and could no longer support his schooling, leaving him to shoulder his tuition and daily expenses.

By the time his shift ends, rest is already limited, especially during exam week. Yet, he continues to forgo sleep when needed, believing that finishing his degree will provide long-term security amid economic uncertainty.

“Kapag may mangyari sa trabaho ko o sa negosyo ko [at] kapag wala akong diploma, walang sasalo sa akin. (If something happens to my job or business and I don’t have a diploma, I have nothing to fall back on),” he emphasizes.

On the other hand, Kevin began working in his second year when his mother’s capacity to provide for his schooling declined. While his financial aid scholarship covers his tuition, daily expenses are not accounted for, prompting him to take on work alongside his studies.

Kevin manages both by adjusting his work hours around major academic requirements, even if it means earning less. To him, fatigue is constant, and time is carefully rationed between shifts and schoolwork.

Reflecting on these student realities, Development Studies Instructor Marie Nathalie Ouano situates them within conversations on inclusive education. The dual burden of sustaining education while earning for daily needs, she argues, cannot be addressed through personal adjustments alone. She points out that in inclusive education, accommodations must not merely be band-aid solutions.

Drawing from her own experience, Ouano explains that the strain often surfaces physically and mentally—through exhaustion or difficulty concentrating. In view of this, she emphasizes that well-being cannot be separated from performance.

For Ouano, the unseen realities of working students extend beyond their demanding routines to the assumptions embedded within academic life. When studenthood is imagined apart from economic pressure, those whose schedules are structured around work risk being perceived as less committed.

Between studies and work

In the Ateneo, the terms and conditions of the AY 2025–2026 scholarship contract restrict scholars from full-time employment and strongly discourage part-time work that may “interfere” with their academic performance and well-being. As per the contract, a scholar must “fully devote [their] time to [their] studies.” 

Apart from this, other University processes like load revision emphasize students’ duties to their academic assessments. As University Registrar Marlene De Leon, PhD  states, “undergraduate students are expected to study full-time” and not necessarily engage in outside work.

In Gelo’s experience, he once attempted the load revision process to leave space for rest after his night shift. However, the Registrar initially rejected his working schedule as sufficient proof. His requests were only successful after he submitted a document directly from his employer.

Notably, De Leon explains that the load revision portal does not list “Conflict with outside work” as a valid reason for adjusting classes, to prevent cases where students submit certificates of employment issued by their relatives’ companies. 

Instead, she suggests that students shift their class schedule before finalizing their enrollment and, if their preferred classes are unavailable, choose different classes or opt to underload if they prioritize outside work over classes. 

Gelo attributes the University’s belief to the lack of visibility and representation for working students. “There are few working students in the Ateneo since most [students] are actually financially stable,” he explains in a mix of English and Filipino. 

Nonetheless, Kevin and Gelo generally express satisfaction with the support they receive from their respective academic departments and the Office of Admissions and Aid. Though Gelo was doubtful of the University’s help at first, he was pleased with the understanding that his professors showed for deadlines and other class activities. 

In this light, Ouano articulates that instructors should exercise a “certain perspective or understanding” alongside “uphold[ing] academic rigor.” She emphasizes concern over the physical, social, emotional, and mental well-being of working students, and not solely school performance.

The tension between academic expectation and economic reality turns to a broader question of what student life is imagined to be. As a University that speaks of whole-person formation, the institution is asked to consider students whose responsibilities extend past the classroom.

Beyond resilience

Accounts of students like Gelo and Kevin show the adjustment required to meet academic standards while maintaining employment. In particular, Kevin situates this effort within what he calls a “generational cycle.”

“Looking back at my family tree, it’s been cycles of poverty that are difficult to break. I continue to see how this journey [out of poverty] could end. It’s the promise of a better life for my family,” he reflects, framing his decision to work as a part of a longer goal toward stability.

Considering this, Ouano notes that when education is reduced to academic competence alone, other dimensions of a student’s life—including physical well-being and the ability to meet daily needs—risk being sidelined.

She also observes that, while maximum and minimum academic load policies are in place, greater flexibility in the required number of units a student can take may ease pressure for working students. She adds that support should be articulated more clearly at the policy level, so that understanding does not depend solely on individual instructors.

Gelo, for his part, proposes partial scholarship assistance for verified working students and more flexible tuition payment arrangements, so that part-time work would be enough to cover students’ expenses.

When employment becomes a condition for staying enrolled, the issue is no longer just about how much a student can carry, but how the University interprets that reality. As long as employment is framed as a deviation rather than a structural condition, the strain of sustaining both becomes understated.

Moving beyond resilience, then, calls for closer attention to how institutional language and expectations shape what counts as full participation. Whole-person formation, in this context, is measured not only by compassion in the classroom, but by whether systems evolve to reflect the lives students are already living.

*Editor’s Note: The names of the interviewees have been changed to protect their identity and privacy.