According to the World Bank, only about 58% of school-age Cambodians are enrolled in high school. Four in ten are not in the system at all. And for those who are, the quality of what they experience inside depends heavily on whether the school has any real authority to maintain it. Right now, it largely does not. When things go wrong in Cambodian public schools, such as students skipping class, disrespecting teachers and rules, getting involved in gang activity, or substance abuse, the blame lands on the school, then on the Ministry of Education. Rarely does it land where part of it belongs on the students themselves, and on the parents who sent them there without any commitment attached.
Passing the Grade 9 national exam in Cambodia automatically moves a student into high school. There is no selection, no review, and no conversation with the family about expectations. A student who barely passed sits next to one who worked hard to be there, and the school has no formal basis to remove anyone who makes the environment worse for everyone else. On top of that, there is no public ranking of Cambodian public high schools. Parents cannot look up which schools produce better outcomes. Schools face no reputational pressure to maintain standards. Students have no competitive target to aim for. When the seat means nothing, it gets treated accordingly.
Vietnam offers one useful comparison. Vietnam introduced competitive written exams for Grade 10 public high school entry. Students compete for seats. The Ministry of Education publishes a national ranking of high schools based on university entrance outcomes, publicly, annually. That ranking creates pressure all the way down: on administrators, teachers, and students, because everyone can see where their school stands. South Korea, on the other hand, handles the discipline side most practically. For seriously disruptive students, the consequence is not jail, and it is not tolerance. It is mandatory to transfer to an alternative institution. Another option is students may leave the school community on their decision.
Cambodia’s system needs three reforms. First, the Grade 9 national exam should become a real entry filter for public high schools, not merely a certificate. Students should apply to schools based on their scores, and oversubscribed schools should select by merit. This would make a seat at a good public high school something earned, not automatically granted.
Second, enrollment should require a formal commitment from both students and parents, including a signed code of conduct and clear consequences for violations. This would make parents active stakeholders, not passive bystanders.
Third, MoEYS should publish official performance rankings or reports for public high schools. Families deserve reliable information, and schools need reputational incentives to improve.
A public high-school seat should mean something. Getting in should require effort. Staying in should require responsibility. And the school a student attends should reflect not only geography, but also ambition and performance. If Cambodia wants to build human capital, it must begin by making its secondary schools places where standards are visible, expectations are serious and learning is protected.