The years went by in a blur (not so much from fun)
My university experience — such as the experiences of thousands of other students across the world — is quite strange. I began at the U of O in 2019, five years (and two program changes) ago, excited to become an independent young scholar. But right as I was looking forward to the next year in a new city, with new courses and new friends, all campus activities were shut down.
To be frank, nothing has really been the same since then, including the way I view education. Maybe I was a naive 17-year-old, but I thought university would morph me into the person I hoped to be after four years of involvement and education. Well it took five, but I can’t pretend that I wasn’t (and still aren’t) a bit upset about how my undergraduate unfolded — I love school and learning, and university was my goal for most of my life.
For about two academic years, instead of feeling eager to participate in discussion groups about course materials, I felt uninspired and sleepy by the barebones Powerpoint lectures my professors — many of whom weren’t familiar with video conferencing software — read from. I felt pained trying to read through dense academic articles that interested me, but the jargon and concepts were difficult to understand and I couldn’t be bothered to email my professors for clarification. The distance was just too much. I also needed to switch my program.
As well, there was no “student involvement” that I could truly connect with through the screen. Sure I had pretty bad social anxiety, but I didn’t feel any drive to join a discord server and put myself out there if there was a limited chance of us meeting on campus. It’s not like I’m a stranger to online conversations either, but there’s a key difference between responding to a comment about your favourite film series and being awkward in a Zoom call with students you might never meet again.
But as I look back on those years, sitting in my basement apartment and obsessively watching episodes of anime to avoid slogging over international development articles, I can’t help but wonder…should I have tried harder? I worked hard to be in school, my parents paid good money too, but I can’t help but feel a bit ungrateful. Maybe I should have studied harder. Maybe I should’ve pushed myself harder. Maybe I should have tried something different.
Maybe I’m only criticizing myself because I’m applying to graduate school this fall, which means putting my entire academic life on the line. This reality leaves me wondering if I even could have tried harder. I was living away from home in a basement apartment with my friends in the beginning years of a pandemic, when everyone was uncertain about what the next day carried, and had my only own anxieties to entertain myself. My mental health was in the toilet, and the days I could get up and go outside for a walk were my peaks.
Not to mention, I felt distant with my professors. I never had my camera on for virtual lectures because I couldn’t remember when I last showered, and I rarely attended virtual office hours because I never paid attention to the content that was being taught, much less asking questions about it.
I craved participating in debates with my classmates in a small dusty classroom past our designated end time for class. And hopping on a plane and going on an exchange in a different country, immersing myself in a culture that was completely unfamiliar to me. I want to push myself, and my mind, to its fullest potential — I mean, I was 17 and in the world for the first time.
At least, I was. And now it feels strange that this was my university experience. “I sat in my bedroom for nearly two years and switched programs a few times. Kinda forgettable.”
Now, it’s difficult for me to reflect on my university experience with pride. How can I list essays I’m proud of when I barely remember what they were based on? How can I discuss my favourite classes when I struggled to sit through one without distraction or nerves on a good day? My vigor for learning feels vanquished, and has been for a couple of years — when will I bounce back? Will I ever bounce back?
I think I’m pursuing graduate studies because part of me still craves the picture-perfect university experience — not one with a friend group with inside jokes or joining multiple clubs — but to give myself that opportunity of confidently trying to test my passion for learning. Of failing, but growing inside of that failure.
But how many people were like me, deciding that university wasn’t worth the hassle to sit in front of a computer screen at whatever time it was for them? Or believed that they weren’t getting the proper support or interaction they expected? If starting university right out of high school felt like a big leap, continuing it online felt like you were left in a canyon, not sure when you’d be lifted out.
And of course, this is a very privileged position. I had the opportunity to complete schooling when others couldn’t. And continuing schooling online just revealed to me the dire reality many other students face, more notably, disabled students face. The hurried return to campus, the difficulty of communicating with university representatives, and overall desire to “return to normal”…if this was the normal, why do we want it back so badly? Why can’t it be better?
Although difficult, post-secondary has changed significantly, for better or worse; more multi-faceted, compassionate grading and greater flexibility with lectures and assessments have been invaluable. On the other hand, it still feels difficult to connect with university community members (as exhibited by Reddit thread after Reddit thread found in any university forum) and costs just keep growing with seemingly no consideration for the students schools are trying to recruit.
Everyone has a different reason why they went to school, but it only has to make sense to yourself. Maybe because I can barely find a justification for mine, I’ll be giving it another go.
