A Grad Student’s Look Back at UTSC
So you’re starting your first year: a breakdown of do’s and don’t’s from a former undergrad.
BY: SARAH HILTON
Photo by Sarah Hilton // THE UNDERGROUND
As cliché as it sounds, the memory of my very first undergraduate class still comes to mind like it was yesterday. It was a Monday morning and I was sitting in the AA building, waiting for my Egyptian and Mesopotamian Mythology class to begin, feeling unsure as to whether I was overwhelmed with excitement or just nerves.
Though it pales in comparison to Convocation Hall, I couldn’t fathom the idea that I was sitting in a 300-person lecture hall. I couldn’t believe that I really was just a number like everyone told me I would be at U of T, or how alone I felt in a sea of students who all somehow seemed to know each other even before the first day had really started. I’d never felt more alienated or out of place in my life.
I got ready for lecture to begin, taking out my binder and a blank piece of paper when I caught the end of a conversation a few seats behind me:
“These first-year students are a joke; they don’t have a clue what they’re doing.”
My heart sank as the student laughed. Was there some secret protocol to taking notes that I wasn’t in on? My professor called the class to attention as she started her PowerPoint, and though I didn’t know what I was doing, I frantically started noting down just about everything she said in fear that I needed every detail of this course memorized just to get a passing grade.
I had these words in the back of my mind through my whole first semester: when I was watching back recorded lectures, when I was in my first tutorial, sometimes even the night before a midterm. I was haunted by the idea that somehow, I was doing it all wrong and didn’t know how to succeed.
This is how I faced my entire first year at UTSC: constantly in a state of worry that I was doing it all wrong. But because I spent that whole first year in so much panic and fear of failure, it pushed me to find my own rhythm. I found a study routine that worked best for me, I balanced my school and job schedules the best I could; I did whatever I had to do in order to succeed. In a way, I didn’t have any other choice than to just embrace the anxiety and fear of failure; it was my way of motivating myself to perform the best I could and stay consistent in my work ethic up until the end of exams.
By the time I was in my second year at UTSC, I started to feel comfortable enough that I branched out a bit and started trying new things. One of these moments was when I started writing as a contributor for The Underground. I titled my first article, “Getting Started in First Year at UTSC”. Somehow, even though I only had one year of my undergrad under my belt, I had this feeling that I’d cracked the code to succeeding in university.
In the article, I got to talking about all the typical problems you face when you’re starting your university program: time management, making connections, self care. These were all things that I was struggling to find balance in, but with that sudden push in the right direction it wasn’t too hard to have all these struggles under control; and as incoming students, though these may seem daunting at first, they’re certainly easy to get the hang of if you genuinely apply yourself.
At the same time, these topics like time management are things you’re going to constantly be getting advice on. You’ll be hearing about how you should definitely buy yourself a planner, or how you should start your assignments as soon as you get the class syllabus, or maybe that you’ll definitely be spending all of exam season pulling all-nighters on campus. It’s not to say that time management isn’t something important to figure out for yourself, but what people don’t tell you about being in university is how quickly this motivation to succeed can all slip away from you.
Photo by Sarah Hilton // THE UNDERGROUND
After writing that article, I figured I could start to loosen up a little and enjoy the university life a bit. My GPA was in good standing, I was starting to join clubs and make new friends; I felt like I was finally settled into the routine of university--I knew exactly what to expect from exams and assignments and didn’t panic about upcoming due dates. I figured there was no point in working myself up over an assignment that I was definitely going to ace, or a midterm that I didn’t need to bother studying for because I had a successful track record thus far. I’d put in so much work so far, I deserved just a bit of a break at least.
I also started to indulge more in my social life in my second year. I spent most nights going out with friends after class, I got into a serious relationship, I went to a couple parties. It was a huge change from my first year where I hardly made the time for my social life.
The thing was, all of these things adding up over the course of my second year meant that I definitely wasn’t just “loosening up”, I was completely neglecting my course work altogether.
Sure, the way I handled my first year was all for the good of my academic standing, but people never tell you how lonely your first year can be when you’re so wrapped up in trying to adjust to a new school. You go from spending every day with your closest friends in high school--eating lunch together, texting across from each other in the same class, finishing homework together after school--to suddenly sitting in a lecture hall of a few hundred students where you don’t know anyone.
No one tells you how your mental health starts to suffer when you’re trying to navigate such a heavy course load without your social circle there--and I mean physically there--to support you through the hard times. And because I was so dedicated to my academic standing in first year, I felt like I had a whole year of socializing to catch up on.
I didn’t really realize that I’d started to slip with my grades until the winter semester of second year, though.
It was the day before one of my midterms and I hadn’t done so much as glance at any of my readings all semester. But instead of going home after class to study, I’d made plans to see my boyfriend down at the St. George campus--it was the day after Valentine’s Day. I figured if we would be getting together at Robarts that I would eventually get something done. But truthfully, I was just determined to celebrate Valentine’s Day with my boyfriend even though it was in the middle of my midterm season, even if it meant doing something as small as getting together at the library.
By the next morning, I hadn’t gotten any studying done and somehow I had come down with a fever, but I still wasn’t worried about my grade. In my first year when I didn’t feel ready for a midterm, I somehow still managed to do fairly well, even in my electives. I figured this was the case with all my classes.
A couple weeks later I saw that I’d failed the midterm by only a few points. I hadn’t failed anything since my grade 10 math class; I was horrified. But it was my own fault for not preparing myself better in a class where I showed up late every week and never read the course materials for.
At the same time, it was my own fault for also not taking care of myself better. Of course it didn’t help that I hadn’t done any studying, but maybe there was a chance that I would’ve at least passed the midterm if I’d rested my body the night before instead of going in with a fever. In a way, it was a wakeup call that I needed in order to realize how detached I’d become from my academics over the course of a few months.
From that point, it felt like the rest of my undergrad was spent picking myself back up after that sudden dip in my GPA in my second year. Eventually, I found myself going back to that article to see what second year Sarah had to say about prioritizing. I couldn’t believe how easily I’d let my priorities get out of hand once I was finally settled into my university life. It was a reminder that even though I wasn’t in my first year anymore, I still didn’t really know what I was doing. Every semester presented new challenges with each new class. And academics aside, life can throw obstacles at you that can make it hard to focus solely on finishing your weekly readings and getting your assignments in on time.
Once I started trying to find a balance between my academic and social life, it felt like more of a struggle for my mental health than a struggle for balance. Suddenly I was back in first year where I was constantly in my books and never within reach of friends, even though I was still making time to be social on occasion.
It also didn’t help that I’d been struggling with personal issues at home, and eventually had to pick myself up after breaking up with my boyfriend. On top of all that, I was on a DSA and eventually started juggling two jobs. So much commitment goes into succeeding in university that sometimes we forget that our mental and physical selves need a moment to catch up with it all.
By the time fourth year rolled around, I came to the conclusion that I’ll never really know what I’m doing when it comes to school. And the secret is that no one does. Two students could have the identical class schedule at UTSC and live completely different experiences. No one is ever going to have the perfect answer for how to survive university.
For me, I eventually worked up the courage to go to therapy to get me through my personal struggles, I quit one of my two jobs, and I lightened my course load to something that was more doable for me.
Photo by Sarah Hilton // THE UNDERGROUND
I figured out that if you don’t take care of yourself first, your university degree is meaningless. If anything, that’s the best advice I can give to all incoming students. Even now, as a masters student, I still don’t know what to expect. Sure, I know I’ll have assignments, essays and exams to write, but the experience is something that I’ll have to figure out for myself as I go.
No one’s going to have the perfect answer for how each individual person can survive university, but I can say with certainty that the best way to deal with the anxiety of starting somewhere new is to put yourself first. Of course, it’s important to think about holding up a strong GPA, and to get as involved as you can, but the bottom line is that education will never be as important as your wellbeing.
In times when I struggle with this balance between self-care and my education, I look back to that first article I wrote for The Underground and remind myself of what second-year Sarah would’ve said if she saw me struggling: “This is the year to make mistakes and learn more about yourself, but you shouldn’t have to do so at the cost of your health.”
Starting your first year is daunting, but especially now that we’re living in a pandemic, we’re all living in a time of uncertainty and upheaval, whether it be in the realm of academia or not. All we can do right now is remind ourselves that although we’re trying to stay prepared, none of us really know what we’re doing. The best thing we can do is embrace the anxiety, embrace the fear of not knowing what comes next because rolling with the punches can also lead us to opportunities and connections that we may not have come across originally. Be patient, and don’t be hard on yourself if the coming semester doesn’t pan out the way you may have wanted it to.
