:user: Denise Astilla · February 16, 2025

When I heard that we were going to have Technopreneurship as one of our courses, I felt a mix of excitement and nervousness within me. I was excited because I’ve always loved and found anything business-related fascinating–just not enough to see myself as the next big CEO, but enough to find joy in the idea of brainstorming products, coming up with marketing strategies, imaging what it would be like if I turn an idea into something real, and all that fun stuff. But accompanied with the excitement was a creeping sense of anxiousness, and that is thanks to the things I’ve heard about our professor from our dear seniors. They said nothing bad or terrifying, but their words were not exactly reassuring either. It was like everyone who mentioned him stopped just before saying something important, leaving me hanging in suspense. It has led me to countless imaginations of what our Technopreneurship professor would be. Was he strict? Was he terror? Would I leave class feeling drained from all the lessons he would drill on my head? Would this class be fun and thrilling, or nerve-wracking? Either way, I was about to find out.

Our first meeting with our professor was unlike what I had expected. I already braced myself for a professor that was stern and intimidating, the kind who would glance at you and you would feel shivers down your spine. I imagined the classroom to be filled with silence and an atmosphere so strict you have to be careful of every word that comes out of your mouth. But to my surprise, he was nothing like that. Instead of the strict and unapproachable vibe, he was witty and engaging. He turned the room, once filled with students tiptoeing as if walking around on eggshells, at ease. His humor was natural and his anecdotes made the lesson less like a lecture and more of an interactive conversation. Instead of passively listening, I found myself drawn into the discussion and has kept me both engaged and interested all throughout the duration of our first meeting.

Before our class even began, our professor gave us an unexpected instruction—he asked us to arrange our chairs in a U-shaped formation. This was something completely new, something none of our other professors had ever asked us to do. We were used to the standard classroom setup—rows of chairs neatly lined up, all facing the front, where the professor would stand and lecture. But this? This felt different. It was an interesting change. But what was more interesting was the fact that the formation was effective in making me listen to the class. Unlike the usual setup, where students at the back could easily tune out or hide behind others, this formation made it impossible to disengage. It created an open space where everyone could see each other, making the discussion feel more interactive and dynamic. It was as if we were in a real business meeting or a formal presentation, where every participant had a seat at the table, every voice had the potential to be heard.

First thing that our professor ingrained in us during our discussion was his role in our learning process. Right from the start, he made it clear that he was not our professor that will be teaching us using the traditional way. Instead, he referred to himself as our facilitator. This change was subtle yet powerful. This means that the whole responsibility for learning will fall and shift onto us. By referring to himself as our facilitator, he emphasizes the fact that he will not be spoon-feeding us with answers or dictating us what we should do. Instead, it means that we, as students, must learn from our own efforts and figure things out on our own. He would not be there to provide us with step-by-step instructions, but rather to guide us through our learnings. Although this approach allows us to freely explore and develop at our own pace without restraints, it also meant that there would be no hand-holding and no easy way out, which was intimidating. And with that realization, I knew that this course was going to be unlike anything I had experienced before.

Before diving into the discussion about Technopreneurship, we first went over the fundamentals—an orientation about our university’s vision, mission, and core values. Our professor drew my attention to a particular phrase in the university’s vision statement: “A premier research university transforming communities in the ASEAN and beyond.” He posed a thought-provoking question: What does “ASEAN and beyond” truly mean? This made me pause and ponder. Initially, I assumed it implied a strategic focus on ASEAN nations first, with plans to expand globally afterward. However, he challenged that assumption with a question that caught us off guard: “What’s 1 and 1?” My immediate thought was programming logic—how the AND and OR operators work in coding. He then explained that in logical operations, the AND condition means that both elements on either side must be satisfied. Applying this concept to the university’s vision, he emphasized that “ASEAN and beyond” signifies a simultaneous commitment to both rather than one after the other. I was taken aback by this perspective. It was fascinating to see how a simple phrase, when viewed through the lens of logic, could reveal a deeper and more intentional meaning.

As if the pondering we did weren’t enough, we were presented with another pair of questions: “What made you choose this university?” and “What made you choose this course?” Honestly, I never had such a thing as a dream university. When people asked me about my college plans during senior high, I had no specific school in mind. I would simply be satisfied with any state university that offers a decent education. My main concern wasn’t prestige or reputation—it was affordability. attending a state university was the most practical choice so as to not be a financial burden to my family, so. With that in mind, I took entrance exams for only two state universities. My thought process was that if I failed one, I’ll have a chance with the other one. Looking back, I’m not sure if that decision was stupidity or bravery. There was always the risk of failing both and becoming a disappointment to my family. It wasn’t that I had the confidence that I would pass, I just didn’t care–but I hoped. I hoped I would pass, and if I didn’t, then I’d figure it out from there. Be that as it may, it’s not like I was completely with no direction, I atleast had a career I wanted. My dream was to pursue Computer Science—a field that fascinated me and aligned with my passion for technology. But as fate would have it, things didn’t go exactly as planned. Instead of getting into my first choice, I was accepted into my second option: Information Security. It wasn’t the first program I had wanted, but I realized that it wasn’t far from what I truly desire. One of my passions has been cybersecurity. Seeing that my accepted program was not far off from the passion I wanna pursue, I took it. In the end, I embraced it—not as a compromise, but as an opportunity. Therefore, I will use this opportunity to show that I am well deserved and qualified for the spot I was given in this university. Maybe the universe didn’t give me what I wanted, but it gave me what I needed.

Believe it or not, we were still far from finished. This was a four-hour-long session, and the journey was not ending just yet. After our deep dive into the university’s vision and our personal motivations, our professor introduced us to something we were all waiting for—the course syllabus. We were shown the overview of the Learning Evidences (LEs) that we need to accomplish in order to complete the second semester. Upon completion of these tasks, it shall prove the learnings and understanding we have accumulated throughout the semester.

One of our tasks was visiting nine different establishments—three schools, three shopping malls, and three food chains—to identify how we could contribute through innovative technology. Our challenge was to analyze real-world settings, identify areas that could be improved, and propose tech-driven solutions that could make these establishments more efficient, accessible, or secure. To be honest, the given task sounds very absurd, but what can we do? We have to do it. However, I think it’ll be fun and exciting. Doesn’t the idea sound fascinating? To look around as we walk and observe. To notice things we just overlooked before and to think of how we can contribute to our surroundings and to things that we regularly enjoy in our life. Instead of simply being passive consumers of these spaces, we were being asked to think critically about how they function and how we, as future IT professionals, could contribute.

But the exciting part? We wouldn’t just be submitting a written report—we would be pitching our ideas in a concise, persuasive manner using an elevator pitch. An elevator pitch is to present a short and persuasive speech to convey your product idea in about roughly the time it takes for an elevator ride.This is where our communication skills would be put to the test. We have to compress our idea into a short and impactful pitch to get the interest of our professor and our fellow IT students. That adds another layer of difficulty. It was both exciting and nerve-wracking, but one thing was clear—this was more than just an academic exercise. It was a glimpse into how ideas become reality and how, in the tech world, an innovation is only as powerful as your ability to sell it. No matter how groundbreaking the idea you have come up may be, if you can’t communicate its value and importance to the industry, it risks being overlooked.

Another intriguing thing our professor said was to not believe him because he is a “liar.” At first, this statement caught me off guard. Why would a professor openly call himself a liar? I was unsure on how I should react. But as the discussion progressed, I realized that this was one of his unique teaching methods—one that encouraged us to think critically rather than passively accept everything we were told. This made me think that: to truly learn, one must learn how to learn. True learning isn’t just about memorizing facts—it’s about developing the ability to think, evaluate, and form our own conclusions. By calling himself a “liar,” our professor wasn’t telling us to distrust him completely, but rather to engage with his lessons actively. He was pushing us to adopt a mindset where we don’t just listen, but we question, reflect, and explore beyond what is presented to us. In a world where misinformation spreads easily, this lesson feels even more relevant—not just in the classroom, but in life.

And with that, our first session was concluded. Despite the initial nervousness I had, as I walked out of the room, I had with me new knowledge, realization, and… tasks to do: a lot of tasks to do. Our professors’ approach to teaching–by referring to himself as our facilitator–was definitely an unconventional method. Not only that, he kept the class engaged with how humorous he is (but very questionable jokes every now and then). The use of humor during the class also made learning less serious. It is just like what he said, “Maglinga-lingaw ra ta.” The first task given to us wasn’t merely an assignment we must fulfill; it was an opportunity to look at our surroundings in ways we have never before. Walking through familiar places in hopes of a spark of a new idea. We ought to spot inefficiencies we’d never noticed before, and brainstorming technological solutions—all of it suddenly seemed more intriguing. The road ahead is uncertain, and I know there will be challenges along the way, but one thing is for sure—this journey is going to be anything but ordinary.