It took me 10 years to arrive at the University of Toronto, and now, after 9 months, I will be leaving. I knew I wanted to go to this school at 15 when I visited the city for the first time with my parents. I loved the downtown hustle and bustle, Lake Ontario, and the idea of being thousands of kilometres away from my routine life. My dream seemingly died when my application to the Faculty of Arts and Science was rejected. I pivoted and completed undergraduate degrees in biology and social work right in my hometown. While the transition from high school to university involved great change, my most profound transition is the one that finds me back in Toronto for graduate school at 25.
The journey to complete my degrees was challenged by an academic identity crisis and debilitating depression. As a decimal generation immigrant, a person who arrives in a new country as a child, I reflect on my linear upbringing: fitting in at school, getting good grades, participating in extracurricular activities, and going to university. My parents encouraged these endeavours but never pressured me down a certain path. The duty I felt to do right by my parents still led me to seriously consider medicine and law, regardless of my lack of passion to practice both. I became depressed the longer I tried to pursue these paths.
The self-imposed pressure to have an esteemed education and career is not unique to my life. I believe my feelings highlight an important precursor to change within academia and other facets of our identity, which is finding what we are passionate about. This seems obvious, but to those who have a fixed mindset, passion and pursuit occasionally do not overlap so long as success is achieved. As I prepared to move to Toronto, I was fearful of going down another hole of depression. Walking into the Faculty of Social Work building on Bloor Street West, I knew what I wanted to learn in the 9 months of my master’s program. I was motivated by the promise of graduate school to leverage my experience with mental illness to advance social justice at the community and policy levels. Through independent research, event organizing, policy briefs, and advocacy efforts, the faculty attempted to keep that promise.
My intelligent, kind, and justice-oriented peers confirmed that I found my passion in social work. It is difficult to part ways with colleagues whose contributions have enriched my life. While I did not become depressed, I truthfully leave the program confused as to how I will contribute meaningful change to a very complex world. This is not to say I am returning home disillusioned or apathetic, but quite the opposite. Perhaps I care too much now about many issues, and I am left wondering where my social work skills would best fit as I transition to my career.
It is a privilege to care this deeply about academic outputs and futurities. Caring is a byproduct of being in community with people who share our values and interests. As a result, change that looks like mismanaged expectations or disappointment is difficult because we thought we would do things right the first time. At a time like this, I implore you to challenge self-talk that makes you believe you are inherently flawed. When I tried to mould into academic puzzles where I could not fit, what emerged was an enduring lesson on sitting in discomfort when plans do not turn out like you hoped. This return to Toronto should have been the be-all and end-all; a full circle moment to a decade-long aspiration. I believe leaving conflicted is exercising my tolerance to discomfort, which I anticipate being a recurring feeling in social work practice. It is also a testament to my desire for self-improvement, deciding what is next as someone committed to lifelong learning. Navigating change has certainly entailed being more honest about my feelings. In the spirit of what I learned in school about critical hope and combatting despair, I opt to understand transitions as an opportunity to rediscover what makes me happy. It is my hope that you allow yourself to do the same.
2015 and 2025: A decade in between well-lived!