Ava Cervas is a second-year student majoring in psychology and minoring in journalism and social change. A co-director of a youth-led wellness blog, her passion for writing focuses on reconstructing the narrative surrounding mental health.
When you first learn how to ride a bike, there are a few skills to tackle before being able to go out on your own: balancing on two wheels, steering properly, using the brakes… with these basics, you’ll become a pro in no time!
But sprinkle this situation with a little less convenience: no training wheels, nor guidance. Just the bike and yourself to figure it out. Now how difficult is it to move on as a beginner, especially not knowing what to do next?
This was the position I was in when I parted ways with Vanier and all its first-year memories back in April. As I was finally gaining some confidence in conquering young adult life, it was like having an instruction manual suddenly ripped out of my hands.
Advancing to second-year meant that it was entirely my responsibility to navigate the rest of this UBC journey, and somehow I’m expected to reach success in the process. In this sense, was the fact that I now had some seniority in university overwhelming, daunting and unforeseeable? One hundred per cent.
I let the ominousness of second year linger over the summer, mostly out of my own fear. Over those few months, the same question remained: how could I continue at university if I didn’t know what to expect, nor what next steps were the best to take?
When it came time to register for courses, going from the SSC to Workday was something, to say the least. While figuring out this new system, having a last-priority registration date was another struggle in itself. It seemed like the same cycle repeated over and over again: finding a required course, but seeing that it didn’t fit my schedule, then trying another section, but seeing that it too was full and so on and so forth.
A last-priority status came with its consequences; especially prominent in the struggle of student housing. I’ve heard the horror stories of fellow second-year roommates-turned-commuters, complaining about the fact that they’re still among the thousands on housing waitlists with limited off-campus alternatives. Miraculously, I ended up on the better side of this situation but obtained my dorm in a rather ungraceful way.
Accidentally delaying my winter housing application left little hope for a positive response. Down a panicked rabbit hole of Facebook groups and Craigslist postings, I went about to accept anything with a bathroom that didn’t burn a hole in my wallet. But once I did exactly so, student housing notified me – two weeks before school started – about my offer in Walter Gage. On the first floor. Sharing common areas with seven roommates. My few days of satisfaction ended up with terminating my sublet agreement and scrambling to prepare for another year of residence life.
While I’m more than grateful to have such a living situation, being on campus is much different than before. From my own experience, there’s a significant void where the social convenience of first-year dorms once was. It’s especially hard to meet up with friends, having shifted from being next-door neighbours to entire bus routes apart. Even finding the time to have dinner with one another now has to factor in transit time, which can take away from study time, which can take away from free time, and furthermore hours of sleep. A multitude of factors can snowball into one big inconvenience, which wasn’t even a concern when dining halls were an option last year.
With such differences between the ease of guaranteed housing to this survival-of-the-fittest situation, I had zero clue where I’d end up in the mix. And where I am now was just a matter of luck.
Academically, the looming pressure to set myself up for success was the most significant push by far. Being a prerequisite to enroll in many of my courses, declaring my major was supposed to be exciting – but ended up being weirdly scary. An accurate comparison I can think of is from the Bee Movie, where Barry discovers that his honey production job of choice would be permanent for the rest of his life.
Despite psychology and journalism – my own areas of study – existing outside of an animated hive, the same skepticism remains: what if I made the wrong decision, and only came to this realization when I’m too far into my degree? I was terrified of a process that only took two clicks of a mouse. Once this choice has been settled, it’s time to start applying to co-ops, internships and other teams to gain experience and set yourself up for post-graduate life. Unaware of this expectation, I couldn’t help but feel as though I was a step behind.
It’s so easy to fear this rapid-fire of new responsibilities and realities, especially having been spoon-fed for an entire year prior. Now being left to fend for myself intimidated me. A lot. Having the mindset that I wasn’t handling this transition properly made me question my abilities not only as a student but as a person.
While I’ve been viewing these changes through a negative lens, acknowledging them in the first place – flaws and all – is admittedly a step in the right direction. After all, growth can only start with a challenge, which involves going outside of your comfort zone.
Having lived in Gage for about a month now, I’m really starting to love it. A chaotic process to get to this point was well worth the sacrifice. Especially considering the two-minute walking distance to just about anything – most conveniently, my classes in Buchanan. Plus, living with a bunch of roommates has truly been a blast, and a sense of community is finally coming into shape.
Workday, while it’s hard to admit, maybe isn’t so bad anymore. The system definitely has its negatives, but also benefits which I can see now that I’ve finalized my schedule and simmered down my rage. Especially in the sense that it lets me track my degree progress, ensuring that I’m checking off requirements for my major and minor eases any overarching stress about falling behind. Seeing what I’ve completed thus far, and the work that still needs to be done, gives me a sense of purpose and guidance. And with this rough academic plan to work towards, I can find opportunities that can best fit my schedule and allow me to gain experience.
Imagine the bike example. The only thing for certain is that you’ll eventually reach the ability to cycle on your own, one way or another. Like learning how to pedal for the first time, it’s definitely been wobbly and frustrating. Maybe I’ll even fall or take the wrong turn on my path to post-grad, but finding the silver lining within these second-year struggles is the tactic that’s helped me most during this semester. Now about a month in, I can definitely see the bright side of the challenges I once despised.
Three more years in university is a long time to gain the experience and skills I desire. And the best part is, there’s never an expiration date to this, nor rules to follow. So theoretically, you can learn to ride a bike with no instructions. You just have to enjoy the bumps on the road.
This article was updated at 11:24 PM on Sunday, October 20 to clarify the contributor's number of roommates.
This is a commentary article. It reflects the contributor's personal experience and their views individually and does not reflect the views of The Ubyssey as a whole. Contribute to the conversation by visiting ubyssey.ca/pages/submit-an-opinion.
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