Although it has not even been a month since I began serving as a part-time faculty member at Davao del Sur State College, stepping into my first face-to-face master’s class as a student felt like an entirely new chapter. Having just graduated from my undergraduate studies, I was fully aware that the dynamics of undergraduate and graduate classes would be entirely different. In my undergraduate years, learning often felt more straightforward, I was largely spoon-fed with information, provided with structured lectures, and guided step by step. Graduate school, however, demands a different mindset. It is a space where students are no longer treated as passive learners but as professionals expected to think critically, engage meaningfully, and contribute to academic discourse. The transition from being the one who teaches to once again becoming the one who learns carried both excitement and humility. It reminded me that no matter our role in the academe, genuine growth comes from embracing new perspectives.
The anticipation the night before still made it hard for me to sleep. I must have checked my alarm three or four times before finally convincing myself to close my eyes. It wasn’t the thought of sitting in a classroom, since I had done that many times before but rather the weight of new expectations and the challenge of proving myself in a different academic environment. I was excited, anxious, and curious all at once. My mind was racing with questions: What will the atmosphere be like? Will the facilitator be strict? Will I be able to adapt quickly to the higher demands of graduate studies? These thoughts carried me into a restless night, but when the alarm rang at exactly 5:00 a.m., I jumped out of bed with determination, telling myself that this was not just another school day, it was the beginning of a new journey.
The morning air was cool, and the streets were quieter than usual. I got ready quickly, ate a light breakfast, and made sure I had everything I needed in my bag: my notebook, pen, water bottle, and of course, the courage to face the unknown.
It was also my first time commuting alone in Davao City, and that just added another layer of nervousness. The routes here were still unfamiliar to me, and unlike my hometown, where transportation was predictable and straightforward, Davao’s network of jeepneys, buses, and tricycles felt like a complex maze. Each jeepney had specific codes and destinations written on their signboards, and for a first-timer, it was both confusing and overwhelming.
I took the bus first, carefully observing the landmarks as we moved. The smell of morning dew lingered in the air, mixed with the faint aroma of freshly baked bread from small bakeries we passed by. The streets grew busier as the sun rose, with vendors setting up stalls and motorcycles weaving in and out of traffic. At one point, I had to rely on the kindness of strangers, asking locals which jeepney would bring me to the University of Southeastern Philippines (USEP). They gave me patient instructions, pointing out jeepneys with specific signage and the streets where I had to transfer. Despite my worry, I trusted their guidance.
By God’s grace, I eventually arrived at the campus safe and sound. Walking through the school gates, I felt a rush of relief and excitement. The campus had an atmosphere of both serenity and vibrancy, students walking briskly to their classes, others chatting under the shade of trees, and some quietly reviewing notes in corners. The sound of laughter, the sight of thick textbooks, and the energy of young minds gathered in one place filled me with motivation. I reminded myself that this was not just another day, it was the beginning of a new chapter in my academic journey.
Even though I had successfully reached the university, I wasn’t at my best physically. I wasn’t feeling well that day. My head felt heavy, and I was fighting off fatigue. Yet, my eagerness to learn gave me energy. I told myself that nothing, not even sickness, would stop me from fully experiencing my first face to face class.
At exactly 10 o’clock, I prepared myself for ITCC 112. The moment felt ceremonial in my head, a new subject, a new teacher, and a new environment. I had already heard several stories about the facilitator. Some said he was meticulous, others described him as highly demanding and very particular. Naturally, this built a sense of nervousness in me.
This wasn’t my first time seeing him, though. Back in May at Araneta City, Quezon City, during the 2025 Philippine National Innovation Day, I had seen him conversing with my adviser. Even at a distance, the way he carried himself stood out. His posture was confident, his gestures deliberate, and his expressions calm yet authoritative. Just by watching him, I could sense that he was a man of wisdom, with extensive experience in his field. At that moment, I had quietly told myself: This man looks intimidating.
But as the saying goes, never judge a book by its cover. The moment he stepped into the classroom, my perception shifted almost immediately. Instead of the intimidating figure I had imagined, I saw someone who was dynamic, witty, and full of energy. He smiled warmly, cracked a few jokes, and spoke with enthusiasm that instantly made the atmosphere lighter. His presence was commanding, yes, but not in a way that silenced us, it was the kind of presence that invited curiosity and participation.
He introduced himself in a way that was different from most teachers I had known. Instead of emphasizing authority, he emphasized humility. He explained that he preferred to be called a “facilitator” rather than a “teacher” or “professor.” He said his role was simply to guide and manage the learning process, not to position himself as the sole source of knowledge. This struck me deeply. It was refreshing to hear a facilitator acknowledge that learning is collaborative, not hierarchical.
Interestingly, he was very specific about how he wanted to be addressed. He strongly disliked being called “Sir” or “Doc.” In fact, he went as far as calling it an “immortal sin” and a “sacrilegious sin,” respectively. At first, we laughed, but as he elaborated, I realized he was serious. He wanted to remove unnecessary titles and focus instead on building a learning environment rooted in respect, equality, and shared growth.
Soon after, we began introductions. As each person stood up, I realized most of my classmates were not just students but professionals, faculty members from various colleges and universities. Not everyone, however, came from the academe. If I remembered correctly, one of my classmates worked in the corporate world, specifically in network systems. Some already had years of teaching and academic experience. Their presence was inspiring, but at the same time, it was intimidating. I wondered if I could keep up with them, but I reminded myself that learning is not a competition. As I listened to each introduction, I couldn’t help but wonder if I would be able to keep up with such accomplished individuals. The thought of being the least experienced in the room briefly crossed my mind, but I quickly reminded myself that learning is not a competition. Everyone is at a different stage of their journey, and it would be unfair to compare my chapter one to someone else’s chapter twenty. What mattered most was that we were all there to grow, and my focus should be on embracing the opportunity to learn alongside them rather than measuring myself against their progress.
When it was my turn, my nervousness showed. My voice cracked slightly, my hands trembled, but I managed to introduce myself. To my surprise, the facilitator noticed my surname and even pointed out its similarity to that of another professor in the college. That lighthearted comment helped me relax and even made me smile.
The discussion began with a recap of the survey we had taken prior to class. From there, the facilitator transitioned into topics such as the Data Privacy Act of 2012, the requirements we must fulfill to pass the subject.
One phrase he used stood out to me:
“What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.”
He explained that this principle also applied to our classroom: whatever is discussed here should remain within the class. It was a reminder that trust, and confidentiality are essential in creating a safe space for learning.
As the lecture progressed, I noticed that his teaching style was far from the traditional lecture-based method. Instead of spoon-feeding information, he constantly reminded us:
“Do not believe everything I say.”
At first, this puzzled me. Wasn’t the point of a facilitator to teach? But soon, I understood what he meant. He wanted us to fact-check, to question, to verify, and to think critically. He wanted us to cultivate independence in learning. This philosophy resonated with me deeply because, in a world full of misinformation, critical thinking is one of the most valuable skills we can develop.
We also looked at the course pack and syllabus available in the UVE. He emphasized the importance of understanding the requirements, deadlines, and expectations clearly. For him, discipline and accountability were non-negotiable values.
Before ending the session, he gave us a seemingly simple activity: connecting nine dots arranged in a 3×3 grid using four straight lines without lifting the pen. I initially thought it would be easy. How hard could it be? But after several failed attempts, I realized the trick: I had to think beyond the box formed by the dots.
This activity wasn’t just a puzzle. It was a metaphor for project management and problem-solving. In real life, solutions often require us to look beyond conventional boundaries, to challenge assumptions, and to embrace creativity. That small exercise carried a powerful lesson: the value of thinking differently.
As I left the classroom that day, I reflected deeply on everything that had happened. I began the day with nervousness, uncertainty, and even physical discomfort. Yet, I ended it with a sense of gratitude, excitement, and newfound inspiration.
This first session was more than just an introduction to ITCC 112. It was a reminder that education is not about memorizing information or passively listening to lectures. True education challenges us to question, reflect, and grow. It teaches us humility, that no matter how much we think we know, there is always more to learn.
I also realized how important first impressions are, not because they are always accurate, but because they shape our mindset. Had I held on to my initial impression of the facilitator as “intimidating,” I might have closed myself off to the dynamic learning experience he offered. Thankfully, I kept an open mind, and in doing so, I discovered a teacher who values respect, critical thinking, and creativity.
That was just the first day, and yet it already left a strong impact on me. I am excited to see how the rest of the course will unfold. I know it will not be easy, after all, the facilitator is meticulous and particular but I also know it will be worth it. The challenges ahead will push me to grow not just as a student, but as a professional.
The journey may be difficult at times. There will be days of frustration, sleepless nights, and endless debugging of codes. But with every challenge comes an opportunity to learn. And with a facilitator who values honesty, discipline, and creativity, I am confident that this journey will be transformative.
As I look back on that first day, one word comes to mind: grateful.
Grateful for meeting a new unique facilitator.
Grateful for the classmates whose experiences will enrich mine.
Grateful for the journey ahead.
This is just the beginning, and I look forward to embracing every lesson, every challenge, and every opportunity that comes my way.
As I think about it more deeply, that first class was not just about ITCC 112 or meeting a new facilitator. It symbolized resilience, adaptation, and growth. Life often throws us into unfamiliar situations, whether it’s commuting alone in a new city, facing an intimidating authority figure, or tackling a problem that seems unsolvable at first. In all these moments, we are challenged to rise above fear, think creatively, and hold on to perseverance.
This experience reminded me that education is not confined to four walls or textbooks. It is found in every journey, every interaction, and every challenge we embrace. The kindness of strangers who helped me with jeepney routes, the camaraderie of classmates who shared their introductions, the wisdom of a facilitator who valued humility and critical thinking, all of these were lessons in themselves.
In the end, my first face-to-face class was more than just an academic requirement. It was a personal milestone. It proved to me that growth happens when we step out of our comfort zones. It showed me that even in uncertainty, there are blessings to count and opportunities to seize. Most importantly, it gave me a renewed sense of purpose, not just to pass a subject, but to truly learn, to improve myself, and to prepare for the bigger challenges ahead.