Right from the beginning, I, along with my peers, was assigned a peer mentor — a successful upper year student in my program — and she made me feel so welcome and supported, smoothing an otherwise trepidatious transition. On top of that, I was drowning in the sheer potential experiences available — from sports and clubs to volunteering and research. As a former semi-misanthrope who dreaded human communication, I decided to jump headfirst into a volunteering position that required me to speak weekly in front of my classes of over 500 students. This terrifying year-long endeavour imbued me with a confidence that founded much of my activity and involvement in future years. Even beyond the professional aspects, it changed my personality and how I communicate with myself and others — it changed my entire life, really.
Other notable experiences from first year: realizing (most) professors are chill humans and not the strict and demonic entities high school teachers made them out to be; spending hours trying to craft the perfect schedule only to end up skipping dozens of classes (I am NOT endorsing this, but I didn’t attend a single MATH1507 lecture); trying bubble tea for the first time; struggling to figure out how clothes work after a lifetime of uniforms; and learning that, as it turns out, I actually do have free will (for better or worse).
And then passed third year, the crown jewel of my bachelor’s (we don’t talk about fourth year, due to mysterious circumstances I will not elaborate on). Making use of my newly discovered free will, I joined our fencing club and have since enjoyed two years of stabbing people under the guise of sport. I even competed at a local tournament and placed 47th! That’s top 50! (Out of 49 competitors…)
I was accepted into a riveting neuroscience lab and got to attend research conferences from the local to the international, meeting brilliant scientists and discovering vivifying ideas about the mind and the brain. I also attended the Canada Gairdner Awards at UofT (thank you Dr. Tsushima!), and received an autograph from one of my scientific heroes, Dr. Michel Sadelain, a pioneer of CAR-T cell therapy (only the coolest immunotherapy out there). I wrote some articles for the venerable Excalibur, later joining them as copy editor. Perhaps most significantly, I befriended a substantial number of squirrels on Campus Walk, slowly amassing a small army in case my graduate school applications don’t pan out (spoiler: they did, indeed, pan out).
More than all these glorious experiences, I think I will miss and treasure the little things in York life the most. Yeah, yeah, it’s cliche. But that doesn’t make it untrue.The buzz of the bazaar-like club tablings around Central Square, from which I commandeered an uncountable amount of candies. The forest wizard I saw once and never again in front of Vari Hall, who was shaping fallen willow branches in strange designs and planting them in the soil — explaining to me how those thin branches were capable of growing into full-fledged trees.
The graceful gliding of the seagulls around campus. The occasional hawk. And fox. And sometimes groundhog. The brief connection I made with that stranger outside of Petrie, where we were both throwing nuts for the squirrels and marvelling at how cleverly (and dare I say, greedily) they hid them in their holes and ran back to us for more. A brief moment of rest on a bench with a stranger at Atkinson that turned into me hearing the life story of a writer who personally knows Margaret Atwood (can I now say Atwood is a friend of a friend?).
The compassion of professors, extending deadlines and going over complex topics again and again until I tasted that blissful eureka moment of understanding. Dr. Sheng from biology hurling candies at our enormous, auditorium-filled class, for answering questions on Halloween. Dr. Kopinska from psychology, who once noticed we seemed a little tired and guided us through a ten-minute meditation during class. Dr. Kohler from neuroscience, who bought miniature EEGs so we could read each other’s brain waves and actively engage with the material we were learning. Everyone else with their passion for learning, teaching, and expanding our minds and our thinking. And so much more. Genuinely, so much more.
I have survived a strike, I have seen some facilities in not-exactly-working order, I have experienced an occasionally rude faculty member or a frustrating experience with York administration — I may even have gotten “yorked” once or twice… but I have also seen so much passion. I have seen so much kindness. So much of a willingness to see students thrive and succeed — from faculty, from administration, from staff, from senior students and fellow peers. I have learned so much — from philosophy, psychology and (neuro)biology, to the occasional dabbling in law, literature, and computer science. And my favourite subject, though I was enrolled in it for four years straight: How To Be A Human Being. The skills to effectively communicate with people from diverse backgrounds and belief systems. The courage to attempt things I am scared of trying. The management of my time, and the managing of the stress that comes from not managing my time. The accountability of owning up to your mistakes and your ignorance, the curiosity and willingness to grow. The desire to learn and understand. The experience of making and breaking friendships, of organizing financial affairs, of balancing perspectives, of being helped and helping others, of living — of not merely existing, but truly living.
The friends I made, the sorrows I suffered, the struggles I overcame, the joys I found. I wouldn’t change a single thing. In the world we are in today, with all that is going on, I cannot be more grateful and privileged to have had the opportunities and experiences this place and time has afforded me. A line from a Mary Oliver poem comes to mind: “it is a serious thing // just to be alive / on this fresh morning / in the broken world.”
I can only hope that I can do my best in giving back to this beautiful, broken world. Going forward to the intimidating but thrilling land of post-graduate studies, I hope I can be more present and grateful, making the best use of my time and blessings and doing as much good for others as possible with the fleeting years I have left on this earth. And ultimately, I am excited and delighted to explore all the new experiences life has to offer. After all, I must begrudgingly admit that as York lovingly likes to remind us, there really is much truth to it: “The Way Must Be Tried!”
