No Smoke Zone: The Clean-Air Culture of SLSU Campus

     Before arriving in the Philippines, I had a vague idea that university campuses might have some rules about smoking. But I didn’t expect to be in a place where those rules weren’t just enforced—they were respected. My experience at Southern Leyte State University (SLSU), particularly at the LabSchool where I was based, really changed the way I view smoking in public spaces. It’s not just about health or law—it’s about culture and collective discipline.

    The first thing I noticed as I explored the campus was the number of no-smoking signs. They were practically everywhere—on walls, pillars, gates, and even trees. At first, I thought, “Wow, they’re really serious about this.” But over time, it became clear that these signs weren’t just for show. They reflected a deep, consistent practice across the entire university community. I never saw a single person light a cigarette—not even staff, guards, or older students.

Sign near the Guard Post

    I became curious, of course. Was it just fear of punishment? Or was it really part of their values? I asked my friend Kobe about it, and he said, “Even if there are people who smoke, they would never dare do it around here. The rules are strict, and people actually follow them.” That level of commitment impressed me. In many other places, people might smoke discreetly or try to bend the rules. But at SLSU, the environment was so clean and so consistent that even the idea of someone smoking felt strange.

    I never learned the exact penalty for breaking the no-smoking rule—perhaps a fine or a formal warning—but honestly, it didn’t matter. The rule was already working. It had shaped the habits and expectations of everyone on campus. Even the students who did smoke, like some Kobe mentioned in stories, would go far away from campus or hide in secret places just to use vape or e-cigarettes—and even that was rare. Vape culture wasn’t really visible in public. One time, Kobe told me about a friend who once tried vaping in a restroom, but that was considered rebellious behavior, not normal.

    This clear cultural boundary between campus space and personal habit was fascinating to me. Coming from a place where smoking is still fairly common in certain public areas, I found it refreshing to be in an environment where clean air was the norm. It didn’t feel enforced in a harsh way—it felt like something people genuinely believed in. I also appreciated how this respect for air quality contributed to the peaceful atmosphere of the campus. It made walking around more pleasant, especially in the mornings when I did my daily jogs.

    But maybe what stood out the most was how normalized this smoke-free life was. It wasn’t just about health awareness—it was about community standards. No one had to shout or lecture anyone about the dangers of smoking. The quiet presence of the no-smoking signs, the absence of cigarette butts, and the fresh air itself all spoke volumes.

    This kind of cultural approach to public health—where values are modeled rather than forced—is something I deeply admire. It’s not just a rule on paper. It’s a practice lived out every day, quietly but powerfully. And for a visiting teacher like me, it wasn’t just something I observed—it was something I experienced, and something I’ll carry forward in how I think about healthy environments and respectful spaces.