A grinding cycle of war and poverty in Mindanao has forced Batua to spend most of his 24 years working on the land or running from conflict areas.
Now, surrounded by classmates as young as 10, he is making the final push to graduation in March.
"Most of the time, I feel ashamed," said Batua, who first dropped out of school in 1987 after his mother died. "But I am making the sacrifice so that I can finish my studies."
Eight years after the government signed a peace treaty with Muslim rebels, the school stands as a shabby monument to a deal that gave autonomy to four provinces in the Islamic heartland of this largely Catholic nation but failed to stop the fighting.
Achieving permanent peace in Mindanao, home to five million Muslims and 20 percent of the country’s 82 million people, is crucial to restoring investor confidence in the Philippines and developing one of its most resource-rich areas.
But few expect a thorough debate on the issue during nationwide campaigning for general elections on May 10.
The Inugug school is little more than a collection of flimsy huts surrounded by ricefields and mango trees.
The previous and slightly more robust buildings were burned down last year during fighting between the Army and Moro Islamic Liberation Front (MILF) rebels. For weeks, several hundred pupils took their lessons in the shade of trees.
Aid agencies helped to rebuild the school, but it remains as fragile as a truce the government and the guerrillas are trying to build on with exploratory talks in Malaysia.
Rains often flood the area and efforts to learn the alphabet are hampered by a huge, jagged hole in one blackboard. For many pupils, this will be their last taste of learning as the local high school costs money their parents don’t have.
There is a genuine desire among many of Mindanao’s Muslims to throw off the colonial yoke of Manila. But other reasons are just as important, such as poverty and a lack of anything else to do.
"Because they are not at school, they are prone to being recruited," said Noraida Karim, an aid official working with the hundreds of thousands of people displaced by the battles of recent years. "There are no opportunities for jobs or other alternative activities, so the temptation is high."
Ask Muslims what they think of their autonomous government and the response is usually a despairing shake of the head.
The heavy military presence means they feel no less occupied than before. The region is the nation’s poorest, with the unrest hurting efforts to tap a wealth of corn, coconuts and minerals.
The first leader of the four autonomous Muslim areas, Nur Misuari, is mostly remembered for a lavish lifestyle and failure to funnel millions of dollars in aid money to desperately needed literacy, health and education programs.
Misuari left in 2001, but few believe there has been much improvement in the leadership under Parouk Hussin.
"There’s a different view of public service here," said an aid official who asked not to be identified.
"Our regional governor is hardly here in the seat of government," he added, referring to nearby Cotabato City. "He would rather be in Manila. He likes to be with national officials, foreign ambassadors."
Officials from the autonomous region often blame Manila for not giving them the freedom envisaged in the peace agreement. The continuing conflict with the MILF has made it difficult for the government to take a hands-off approach.
Unbowed militarily, the local fighters are as confident as ever that history is on their side.
"Day by day, our people are becoming more aware of the situation," said Benjie Midtimbang, a former head of the MILF’s military academy and now its representative in a ceasefire committee with officials from Manila.
"The Philippine government cannot say we do not know how to govern ourselves because, before the Spanish came, we knew," he said.
The area around the Inugug school is the MILF’s heartland.
The group’s late chairman, charismatic Islamic preacher Hashim Salamat, was born nearby and many of the pupils have relatives who are MILF guerrillas.
There is burning resentment of the military, particularly after last year’s attack on Buliok, which also was home to thousands of ordinary people with no desire to carry a gun.
Yet many of Mindanao’s Muslims do not show the desire for independence at all costs that characterized East Timor’s recent seceding from Indonesia.
Better government and the chance to make a living would go a long way to addressing their concerns.
Mausing Endil, one of hundreds of thousands of war-weary refugees evacuated to temporary shelters, is more concerned about his income, which he said has fallen to P100 a week from the P300 a day he used to make by fishing and farming.
Like many others, his wife and four children are not ready to go back to Buliok. They are afraid fighting could break out again and worried because the government has not guaranteed shelter or livelihood despite urging them to return.
"Whatever the decision of the MILF and the government, we will accept," Endil said.
Ali Murray, head of the local authority in charge of the Inugug school, agreed that a stand-alone Muslim state was a long shot.
"I believe that independence is very hard to achieve," he said. "That is the maximum demand."