COLUMN | Innovation or Alienation?

Peter Jandrei Melan

A memo. A Monday. A total shift to online classes. This is how the Cebu Normal University (CNU) treats its students.

On the morning of July 21, students of the CNU Main Campus were preparing for another academic year marked by full face-to-face classes. By noon, those plans were swept away by a sudden announcement: starting July 22, all undergraduate programs, except those under the College of Nursing and the CNU-VSMMC College of Medicine, would shift to a 100% online setup. The reason cited was the retrofitting of buildings and classrooms for the Centralized Student Smart Hub project, formalized through Memorandum Circular No. 43, issued by University President Dr. Daniel Ariaso, Sr.

According to CNU, the P947.83-million Centralized Student Smart Hub project aims to transform the university into a modern, digitally integrated institution. Unveiled in December 2024, the project includes the development of smart classrooms, e-laboratories, a digital broadcasting system, a learning management system (LMS), and an e-library, among others. University officials say the project will support hybrid learning, expand digital access, and mark a major modernization milestone under President Ariaso’s administration.

What was meant to be a long-anticipated return to campus instead unraveled with an abrupt administrative directive. For many students, especially those from far-flung provinces who had already secured housing, paid rent, and settled in, it felt like the ground had shifted beneath them. Confusion turned into frustration as news of the full online shift spread, announced just a day before its implementation. 

In response, the CNU Main SSC presented the student body’s concerns and recommendations through the Joint Administrative and Academic Council. They emphasized that abrupt decisions must be avoided, and students should be informed well in advance of any major changes. They raised the plight of provincial students living in boarding houses who were blindsided by the shift, called for laboratory classes to remain face-to-face to preserve academic quality, and appealed for continued access to facilities like the library under strict safety protocols. 

The SSC acknowledged the distress the abrupt transition caused and encouraged students to voice additional concerns. But despite this formal engagement, the administration remained noncommittal, offering no roadmap, no definite timeline, and no meaningful dialogue.

Kabataan Partylist-CNU (KPL-CNU) joined the chorus of criticism, denouncing the last-minute decision as a form of institutional negligence that undermines students’ right to accessible, equitable education. Their statement was clear: modernization without consultation is exclusion. For many students, especially those without stable internet or safe home study environments, the online shift is more than inconvenient—it’s a barrier to learning.

CNU’s leadership, meanwhile, insists the shift to virtual classes will prevent learning losses and provide coping mechanisms amid renovation. But that assurance rings hollow when students are given no clear timeline for return, no indication of infrastructure support, and no say in the decisions that shape their learning. Despite repeated calls for transparency and inclusive planning, the administration’s response continues to feel distant, bureaucratic, and detached.

The heart of the issue is not simply that classes are going online. It’s that students are being pushed there without warning, without choice, and without adequate support. They are being asked to adapt, again and again, without being heard. And when institutional decisions are made in boardrooms without student consultation, they echo the very educational inequality the university has claimed to fight against.

Students are not asking for perfection; they are asking to be treated as partners in their education. They are asking for respect, clarity, and inclusion. They are asking that universities, even in the midst of physical renovation, do not forget the human scaffolding that holds institutions upright: their learners. For all the bricks and beams being laid for the Smart Hub, no structure will ever matter more than the foundation of student trust.

In a time when the word “smart” is used to describe campuses, systems, and learning platforms, perhaps it’s time to ask: what does it really mean to be smart? A truly smart university listens before it builds. It consults before it commands. It communicates before it displaces. Until then, all that’s left are confused students in packed boarding houses with packed bags, refreshing their student portals for updates that should’ve come weeks ago.

Cebu Normal University may be building something big, but if it forgets the students it is meant to serve, then no amount of cement will hold up what’s being lost.