| Photo via Wikimedia Commons
On July 17, 1967, the Pamantasan ng Lungsod ng Maynila (University of the City of Manila) opened its doors to 556 scholars from the top 10% of Manila’s public high school graduates. I was fortunate to pass the entrance exam and become part of the first group of scholars to benefit from free college education. Like the University of the Philippines (UP), Pamantasan or PLM was created by an act of the Philippine Congress in 1965.
But unlike UP, PLM catered to Manila’s public high school graduates who were most likely from socially disadvantaged families. UP admits students who pass the entrance exam regardless of social background. However, it wasn’t an even playing field because public high school graduates had to compete for admission with those from well-off families who went to better schools, mostly private schools. Historically, private education in the Philippines was superior to public but beyond the means of many. UP provides affordable, excellent education and attracts students from all social classes. Back then, the greatest hurdle for poor students fortunate enough to get into UP was access to its campus.
PLM made things easy for us because, besides free tuition, we received free books and uniforms. Its small campus in the heart of Intramuros, Manila, is easily accessible by public transportation. Nonetheless, many of us used to walk, coming from all corners of Manila to attend classes, including myself. It’s a fact I was embarrassed for my classmates to know, but little did I know, I learned later many of us did, men and women. I lived in Tondo, and walking home at night wasn’t safe, so I would wait for a crowded bus to come by so I could hitch a ride, hoping the bus conductor would be too lazy to check for tickets. If not, I would hail the driver to stop the bus so I could get off before the eager conductor could get to me. Then I would wait for another bus and do the same.
For many, food and transportation allowances posed the most difficulties. We suffered epic deprivations and denied ourselves simple pleasures so we could attend school. We ate one meal, shared food with other classmates, or subsisted on fried bananas when we could afford them. Others resorted to peddling snacks to schoolmates for a few cents. Any side hustle to get food or a few centavos for a jeepney ride home. I’m not exaggerating; all one has to do is look at old photos of us in college, and you’ll know how undernourished many of us were. This had caused some embarrassing moments during class reunions when you couldn’t recognize college friends you’ve not seen for years because they’ve doubled in size.
“The story of PLM and its greatness lies not in its campus premises, fiscal health, or officials. Its greatest strength, tested with adversity and wants, are its students who consistently perform under any condition. PLM is unique in its history, student body, and vibe.”
During my first year, I immediately noticed how terribly inadequate my high school education was. I realized how unprepared I was for college. I struggled in math and English. What I lacked in academics, I made up with perseverance. The PLM building used to be the former Manila High School, and it was hardly equipped with facilities for higher learning. Our library did not inspire academic work with its limited resources. We turned it into a siesta corner under the pretext of doing serious work. To make up for our anemic library resources, we walked to the National Library in Rizal Park or the Ramon Magsaysay Center in Roxas Blvd., or took trips to the Goethe Institute in Pasay City to do schoolwork or borrow books to take home.
It wasn’t only the PLM student body that struggled during the university’s first few years. The city had a small budget and struggled to maintain student benefits like free books and uniforms. The science labs were hardly adequate, engineering students had no labs to practice from, the library remained unchanged, and so did the rest of its infrastructure. Manila City Hall politics did not help, and the PLM president’s post was never vetted to go to those with excellent academic and administrative credentials but was appointed.
Despite all these, the university began to produce graduates who topped national exams and has been consistently doing so since. One would imagine that the national government would notice how the PLM project became the most successful poverty alleviation effort ever conceived and step in to improve its infrastructure and attract talented full-time faculty members with good salaries and benefits. Instead, for years, it has suffered from chronic under-budgeting. People did notice, local politicians particularly, not to make PLM better but to make a name for themselves by trying to imitate PLM.
The story of PLM and its greatness lies not in its campus premises, fiscal health, or officials. Its greatest strength, tested with adversity and wants, are its students who consistently perform under any condition. PLM is unique in its history, student body, and vibe. I see great promise among its products to shape the future of our country only if there are enough of us. From June 16 to 21st, 2025, it will celebrate its 60th year of storied existence and commemorate its humble beginning.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR Dr. Fernando B. Perfas is an addiction specialist who has written several books and articles on the subject. He currently provides training and consulting services to various government and non-government drug treatment agencies regarding drug treatment and prevention approaches. He can be reached at fbperfas@gmail.com.
