Sophia Topper
The Silhouette

The First Year Council could be great. At least, it’s a great time for the five first years who get to blow through $4000 with minimal interference from the MSU, and minimal notice from the students who fund it. That would be you, by the way—15 cents of your 122.61$ Student Organization Fee goes to the FYC to do… something.

What the FYC is about is unclear to even its members, who gave a vast variety of answers to my every inquiry. Alexander Coomes, last year’s chair, claimed: “No one will ever seriously change the first year experience from this council.” They have had several successful events, for instance, their club nights were successful enough to recoup their output. This, however, simply makes the rest of the spending more puzzling. The council also hosted a movie night, but the proof is in the popcorn—three out of four enormous boxes linger uneaten in FYC’s meeting room.

The annual FYC survey occurred as well, though we haven’t received the results. None of the councillors I asked could say what would be done with the results if they existed, or explain why the survey needed to be annual - surely the needs of first years do not change that much from year to year. Perhaps this is to inform the advocacy that supposedly occurs. David Campbell, President of the MSU, said that the “FYC is a fantastic venue for first years to advocate on behalf of their peers,” but again none of the four members I spoke could describe any advocacy done, or even ideas for what advocacy could occur. Dmitri Dobrov, who held the advocacy portfolio, could not be reached for comment at the time this article was published.

In the words of Alexander Coomes, former chair, “We are a social club. Sometimes we pretend that we’re more, but we’re not.” This self-awareness is laudable, but also betrays the discouragement felt by some members.

“I think the council has great potential for something amazing, but I believe it really comes down to how much each individual on the council wants to commit and dedicate. The more effort and hard work that is put into the first year council will definitely reflect in the success and the experiences one will have,” said Yipeng Ge, Former Vice Chair.

Unfortunately, the FYC is plagued by resume-builders and MSU bubbleheads, who gleefully describe the personal benefits of the FYC while glossing over the benefits to the student body. During a conversation with one member, he pulled out his discount card not once, but twice, as well as regaling me with tales of using the room as his personal gaming sanctuary, saying it was “convenient to have a little bit of authority now and then.” Other members described to me the invaluable connections they made higher up in the MSU echelons, and the importance of the FYC on their resumes. “It’s the best value-to-workload ratio,” said an unnamed councillor. Coomes said, “You can put as much effort as you want to into it… if you mess up, no one’s really there to get mad.”

There is someone there though: me. And you should be mad too. $4000 is a lot of money for some lines on a few people’s resumes. But we can’t just blame them, this is on us too. The fact is, we get who we elect, and what we demand. The FYC started a first year street team, which met twice and fizzled out. A night in Bridges to discuss the first year experience which was mostly attended by friends of the exec. And that isn’t their fault - it’s ours. If we want more than just some club nights and some flops, then we need to elect people who will give it to us. And while it’s easy to blame the election protocols, where five dollars will buy forgiveness for even the most blatant of abuses, we’re still the ones (not) voting. As Coomes says, “If the idealists don’t step up, the cynics take over.”

Jacob Zrobin / The Silhouette

Besides the obvious implications speaking to a person’s bank account, attending university and eating copious amounts of spaghetti have a lot in common. Not unlike a long, chewy noodle, one will become sick of consuming the same rubbish for four years.

I was once enamoured by the idea of university. I imagined sweater-vested, glasses-wearing, sesquipedalian students who would be debating Kant and discussing Linus Pauling’s influence on the global arms race. I figured we would be doing so beside picnic baskets filled with apple pies and macroeconomic textbooks on luscious fields, where a rainbow was probably hanging overhead to make things, you know, picturesque.

I want to begin by saying I have no qualms with those who lack spectacles in university. In fact, at least two of my friends do not wear glasses. Nevertheless, besides the seemingly absurd amount McMaster is willing to pay for its perpetually failing garden, there was very little of my constructed dream at university. And I am slightly indignant of this fact.

When I first arrived in the hallowed halls of this enormous institution, I was given my tiny student ID and thrown into whitewashed lecture rooms with more students than the professor could shake an iClicker at. Over the chitchat and muffled microphone of the professor, the read verbatim PowerPoint slides, I imagined tomorrow would be better - that the first day of university was just nervous, and as a result, got off on the wrong foot.

Unfortunately, as it goes with Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, and the Toronto Maple Leafs’ chances of winning the Stanley Cup, my childhood fantasy would have to die. And with death, came disappointment, and with disappointment, poorly constructed syllogisms, incorrect Latin phrases and bitter Opinions pieces. Ad nausem.

There was first the monotony, which is I suppose is some masochistic right of passage into adulthood, of uninterested lecturers speaking to mostly empty lecture halls. We were not explorers in the academic pursuit; instead we only met the requirements of our degree because we had little room to do otherwise. The love of reading was sapped from your already bruised, wizened soul, and you became accustomed to trying to do well only for the sake of finishing your degree.

But my entitled-self thought it would be different, here, where knowledge is set to flourish. Rather, it was found more often than not that creativity would be punished, and that guidelines were meant to be followed. If you wanted challenging courses, your GPA would suffer, and so would your already dim post-university prospects of landing a career. You would forget everything after the exam, and only build on a small amount of greater knowledge. You could not register in the courses you wanted, because of an outdated system and limited class sizes, if the course was even offered to begin with. You were restricted and it was unfair. So is life, and so is the freedom one gets while cooking spaghetti.

To drown such pestering problems, you likely drank. Wine with your noodles, you may be drunk right now. There is no denying its involvement in the university culture, of getting piss drunk and then allowing us to recuperate long enough to write that essay, whose mark seemed to have no real correlation on how long we worked on it, or study for that test, which was route memorization rather than testing how to think, and then pee it all out in a long sigh of a cleansing.

This piece is not a complaint on student IDs, nor overcrowded lectures nor even the integration of alcoholism in university culture. It is definitely not supposed to be a submission of my own ineptitude, as salient as such a thing may be. Nor is this a lament on academic bureaucracy, out-of-date registrar systems, increased tuition, decreased library space, or even the exceptionally long wait facing every student right now, at this very instance, if they dare to buy a required textbook and the obvious truth that many will not even read those wonderful books after their purchase. This piece is not a laundry list of complaints formulated to outline failures but rather, as far as I can see it, an admission that the university has failed me and may be failing others.

Worst of all, once you finish your hard-earned, fridge-framed, beer-goggle degree, the hangover will hit you very hard. Like many graduates from this respected place, you will be respectfully jobless, unable to pay for the thousands of dollars you just spent on the degree whose sole intention was to prepare you for life, in someway, somehow. Perhaps it is the job market’s fault. Perhaps it is that damned ambiguous economy. Perhaps it is because after four years the only meal you can cook is spaghetti.

Regardless, you will be left with a horrible aftertaste with basically as many options as you had before university. This is not an opinion. This is a fact. The unemployment for young Canadians is nearing fifteen-percent, double the national average. And those who do get jobs, nearly one third are working in careers that are not related to or do not require a degree. These young Canadians are coming away from university with the newest education, carrying the cumbersome debt attached to their papyrus, red-stamped degrees, and will likely work within a job that has no need for their aggrandized schooling.

Like a miner in a dark, dark hole, you will be forced to look for something still, holding on to your degree with boastful pride. You will tell yourself it was worth it, that everything you learned was somewhere in your head, bouncing around, and if you could just hold onto this noodle for a little bit longer, everything would be okay. And when you cannot find anything worthwhile, to satisfy your crippling entitlement and dreams, the greedy culprits will be ready, open arms, happy smiles, offering you prospects and further erudition, presenting you their Master’s program. This time in the name of adaptability. This time in the name of inspiring minds. This time in the name of twenty-four thousand dollars. Where more time is drunk, more problems amass, and the culprits, frustratingly plowing away on their abhorrent gardening, tell you how intelligent you are becoming. Ad nausem.

Kacper Niburski / The Silhouette

 

Dear Kacper,

I think I should start with a hello, though it may be wasted on you. Business, and the slack jaw rapidness of an auctioneer, is your mode of conversation, so I’ll instead hope that wherever you are, it’s sunny and you’re happy.

I can’t tell if you are, to be frank. I know that’s hard to believe me not knowing you or really me not knowing me, but you’re young, Kacper. You’re a freshman in university.

You see, I’m you but older though it’s very well possible my archaic lexicon gives that fact away. Words like archaic and lexicon are surefire indicators of how ancient you’ve become.

I’m sorry for becoming old, but there was nothing we could’ve done about it. Your knees crack when you bend and you feel tired even after you wake up and you drink coffee and you’ll figure out the rest as it goes on. Sometimes you won’t; I’m sorry for that too.

That’s why I am writing to you now, freshman Kacper, in order to help fill in the blanks that I, and you by extension, didn’t know way back when you began this whole damned thing. I want to ensure that in the future of this university odyssey that you are just now beginning, I won’t have to write an apology letter to the both of us.

I fear that this message won’t get to you in time, however. I’m afraid that when you receive it, you’ll be starting your fourth year at McMaster with a dirty mop of a haircut and a laziness that seems palpable; your parents will look at you as a they do to a trophy collecting dust, a forgotten memory of triumph reserved for better days; you’ll be a mess of yourself, of who you thought you should be, and who you never were – and the three categories will never be in agreement, and you won’t either, and you’ll wonder if anything ever is, if it ever was.

And then you’ll look back to your freshman self, and you’ll see a boy who seemed steeped in sunlight, who thought that if he only tried in whatever he attempted, he would eventually have success, and that boy, with an indefatigable dream of becoming anything but that boy, would be smiling.

From there, you’ll try to rearrange the haze of memories that you somehow once lived, and there will be millions of them plastered on your ceilings, walls and picture frames. You’ll collect them all if only to see how they changed the way you shake your hand or the way you talk, and at that point, you’ll write a letter to that same boy in an attempt to ensure that his smile lasted.

And here is what you’ll get:

Try in everything you do, Kacper. It’s a simple truth and for that reason, you’ll forget it most of all during the complexity of university. But remember that you don’t want to wake up one day and wonder where the hell the time went and where did you go with it.

Know that in the next four years, shit happens and loads of it will come flushing your way after those cherry-blossom twilight days you find yourself in end. But also know that this is not necessarily bad: terrible events will always occur, even after you’re gone. That’s not exactly comforting, but it’s enough. You are me, and I’m still here, and together we have always gotten through things no matter how bad they seemed at first. As you’ve been led to believe, and still believe to this day, there is sun even on the cloudy days. It’s just somewhere else.

When those cloud-drunk days dwindle down, and you’re feeling like an overflowing sewer gutter trying to drain away rain, get up. Shake the sleep from those legs. Act. Do. Feel. Wear socks. Funny socks. Colourful socks. Live, for Christ sake, and if you’re in those socks while the thirst of life is at your tongue, then you’re all the better for it.

Fall in love, Kacper. It is just about the best thing you can be in, though it won’t always be successful at it. There will be times when you can’t imagine why you allowed yourself to be so exposed, so vulnerable. It’ll all seem so stupid, so forced, so unimaginably regrettable. But those moments will pass, and the relationship will pass with them, and you’ll find yourself still holding her hand after it all and look how soft it is and look how happy the two of you are.

There will be the best nights of your life you’ll never be able to remember and other times that you’ll remember too much that wish you could forget. Both of them will enrich you in different ways because both, on days when you’ve forgotten all about the trivial problems that swarmed you once daily, will one day be called “the days.”

Write about it all. No matter how small or big. Even if you’re exhausted. Especially if you are. Talk, talk, talk until your mouth dries or your hand cramps or until you’re satisfied that you’ve printed your uniqueness on the white pages in front of you. Because the future is made of the words you compose and the words you don’t and you have so much to say. In the end – our end, Kacper – you’ll be left behind with the sentences you use and others will be left with you in those same sentences, and that means something.

What it means you’ll only find out when you grow to be my age. Until then, Kacper, I hope the world for you, I hope that you want more than just a rocky globe, and I hope that we can laugh about it all, whatever it is, after the fact.

Until we meet, warm regards,

Kacper

It’s that time of year again. With a new group of first year students and a fresh team of reps, Welcome Week is once again in full swing. The difference this time is that every first year student has bought a MacPass.

Halfway through the week, MSU President Siobhan Stewart is already happy about the results. “I would say it’s better,” said Stewart of this year’s Welcome Week. “I think it’s too early to say one hundred percent, but my perception at least is that it’s better.”

This positive response comes in the wake of last year’s MacPass policy change. In a campaign run by former MSU president Matthew Dillion-Leitch, quorum was reached at the MSU general assembly, where students voted in favour of a motion to impose a universal Welcome Week levy on first years.

Rather than paying separately for the ticket to Welcome Week events, all incoming students are now charged the $110 though their student accounts with no chance to opt out.

The intentions behind this change were both “financial and philosophical,” explained MSU Vice President of Administration David Campbell.

In previous years, Campbell said, some students who wanted to purchase MacPasses on site were turned away.

“[Dillon-Leitch] saw that this wasn’t right,” he said.

Furthermore, he described the prices of years past as being “artificially low,” due to a subsidy from another university source.

“The problem that we were faced with…was do we want to jack the prices up, or are we going to find another solution? Because we need some sort of sustainable model.”

The new MacPass levy has translated to increased registration for Welcome Week. Although the fee is automatically applied, students were given the opportunity to register online in advance, explained Michele Corbeil, First Year Transition Program Coordinator at the Student Success Centre.

She described the response as “positively overwhelming,” citing an increase of 500 students in registration before the week began.

By Sunday, a total of over 4600 students had picked up MacPasses—roughly 800 more than in previous years and still rising throughout the week.

“The majority of that increase happened in off-campus students, which is really key,” said Campbell. “We were really pleased with that, because that was one of our big targets.”

Though the registration overall was up, it was difficult to say if attendance increased at specific events.

“It’s a growing year for SOCS,” said Stewart. “They’re really motivated and…excited about it.” Both Campbell and Stewart emphasized the expansion of programming for off-campus students, as well as other marginalized groups. “The programming is fairly diverse…and we’re always looking to expand that.”

The no opt-out policy doesn’t appear to be a major issue, for either off-campus or residence students.

Said Stewart, “I haven’t heard any complaints from any first year that I’ve talked to, but that’s just my experience thus far.”

Campbell notes that the no opt-out policy is something the MSU is still working on.

“In my ideal world, it wouldn’t be that we’d introduce an opt-out, but it would just be that every student was getting something out of it,” he said.

And in the end, that’s what Welcome Week is all about, said Stewart. “My sincere hope is that students find something to connect to during this week.”

Having fun? I’d hope so, because this is one expensive party.

The pool of money allocated to Welcome Week this year is about half a million bucks. Events, swag, bands, food and all the other hoopla adds up quick.

And whether you’re involved in the Week or not, you’re invested. A mandatory fee of $110 is pulled from every first year pocket. That’s new, and a little problematic.

Some Muslim students, for example, have expressed concerns over the inclusivity of Welcome Week, given conflicts between their religious observance and getting their money’s worth. It doesn’t seem fair to force that choice upon them.

But when you make exceptions for one group, do you extend it to others? Eventually it defeats the purpose of the mandatory fee, which was selected by popular student vote at last year’s students union general assembly.

And even if participation wasn’t an issue, how about enjoyment? Yeah, it’s a good time being a rep. But the Week is for you, first years, and it’s up to you to tell the McMaster Students Union and the Student Success Centre what you liked and what you didn’t.

Re-imagine the week. Eliminate this, add that. The money’s there, so do the class of 2017 a favour by making sure their Welcome Week is a blast.

Physiological

At the bottom of the pyramid, we find the most basic, physical needs of humans: breathing, food, drink, sleep and sex. Lucky for you, McMaster makes it easy for you to fulfill most, if not all, of them.

Breathing: Mac is conveniently located on the planet Earth, known for its abundance of oxygen. If you’re reading this, you’ve probably figured out the whole breathing thing and should move on to the next point.

Food: It’s pretty much everywhere. If you are on campus, you are never more than five minutes away from a meal, or at the very least, a snack to keep you going. Thode Library even has a café on the first floor, so you can satisfy your hunger for knowledge and croissants in the same place. And if you’re commuting from home, most parents come equipped with a full fridge!

Drink: You’re in first year, which probably means you’re not 19 yet. But don’t worry; you’ll find a way. For all you of-age fogies, though, the west-heading bus will take you straight to University Plaza in less than 15 minutes. It has the usual LCBO, as well as a Dollorama, a Coles, and a few food sources, if you’re still hungry after the last paragraph. On campus, you’ve got bars The Phoenix and TwelvEighty. Walk east into Westdale for The Snooty Fox, or south of campus for Ramshead, West End Pub and Emerson Pub.

Sleep: This is where Maslow and I disagree. He thinks sleep is an important human need, whereas I have a few years of anecdotal evidence to disprove the old man. Sleep? Forget about sleep. You’re in university now.

Sex: You sly dog, you. The Student Health Education Centre (SHEC) on the second floor of the student centre, room 202, is perpetually stocked with free condoms, lube and volunteers to answer all your health-related (sexual and otherwise) questions. Pick up some protection, find someone that’s into you, and getterdone.

Security

Security of Body: Campus is a safe place to be. There are emergency telephone portals, equipped with bright lights, smattered around campus. You can always see at least one, no matter where you are. And more than that, for the times you’re off-campus and trying to get home safely at night, you can call up the Student Walk Home Attendant Team (SWHAT) and they’ll send out a man and a woman to get you where you need to go. So don’t sweat, call SWHAT.

Security of Health: In addition to the student-run SHEC, there’s also the Student Wellness Centre. There you can get appointments with mental or physical health professionals, five days a week, all year round.

Security of Employment: Not yet. That’s what you’re here to attain, remember? But until then, there are many part-time employment opportunities on campus. Check out OscarPlusMcMaster.ca or the McMaster Students Union jobs portal for available job opportunities in the area.

Love/Belonging

This level of the Pyramid is similar to the one bellow it, in that it provides some stable support, but this time of the emotional variety. There are clubs for everyone at Mac (check out Clubsfest on Sept. 5), and finding one you enjoy gives a great sense of belonging, without having to join a gang. There are thousands of people to choose from at university, so you can surround yourself with people that keep you feeling energized and excited about your life.

Esteem

Now that we’re nearing the top of this pyramid, it’s time to get a little serious. Self-esteem and confidence might fail you in the first few weeks of school. You’re adjusting to a new environment, and might feel a bit out of place. Play your cards right, though, and you’ll quickly discover skills you might not have known you even had.

I remember the first time I ever stepped on McMaster University grounds as a freshman. As I examined the trod of a multitude of footsteps all with a sense of direction, a feeling dawned upon me. I felt invisible.

It felt like déjà vu. I thought to myself, “Is this going to be high school all over again?” As I took a deep breath, ready to accept the reality that my appearance had assigned to me, something unexpected happened. Someone stopped and said hello.

Flabbergasted as I was, I almost thought that I was not the one being spoken to, but it turned out that someone cared enough to stop and talk. Then another feeling dawned upon me, one opposite to that of feeling invisible.

After talking to this pleasant stranger for a while, she directed me to the building I was looking for. This act of kindness that was shown unto me made me see things in a new light.

Suddenly I noticed the freshly cut grass and how its greenness showcased the life I was about to start, it radiated out energies unexplained and perhaps showed me a timeline of how much I was going to grow.

The blue sky stood out without a single shadow of obstruction. It made me see clearly a form of tranquilizing peace that filled the air, the youthful exuberance that clouded the campus, and, most importantly, it gave me hope.

There was the humming of birds, the chattering and grunts of squirrels, the whisper of the leaves in the trees, the screams and laughter of students on campus and the smiles that where thrown my way. All this contributed to the feelings of anticipation and optimism that built up within me.

As I tried to navigate my way around, trying to find my way to my first class, there were always people willing to give me a helping hand.

As I approached my first class, the hall was so big, and yet I felt seen even when no one was looking. As we all settled for our first class, I looked around and examined my peers closely, my 2015 class of elites.

The thrill, the excitement of welcome week made it all in all worth it. There were a lot of exciting events and a lot of student representatives willing to advise my peers on our journey through our freshman year.

I do admit that transiting from high school to university was not easy. The curriculum was far more loaded and much harder than that of high school. But McMaster University is a place where teachers are willing to help smoothen our transition and make our academic careers a success.

I believe that we have two families in this life, the family we are born into and the family we choose. McMaster University soon became home to me and we were all family to one another. I met the most amazing people and my experience through my freshman year cannot be overstated.

Many times I fell, and I arose stronger. After a while I was not afraid of falling anymore because there was always a soft landing waiting for me, but more importantly a chance to rebound stronger.

Now, freshman year is over and I am not afraid of the bumps that I would encounter while transiting to my sophomore year because I know that I have a family willing to help me through.

When I look in the mirror, the image of my growth for the past year is personified. I actually see a reflection looking back at me. I do not feel invisible anymore. My family here on campus helped me discover myself.

As we transit to another year, we all hold our breaths in anticipation and eagerness as we await the next freshman class that is coming to fill the vacuum we are leaving behind. If only they knew what a journey they are all in for. Well, I guess they will just have to wait to find out.