Its been a hard academic year. Not going to lie, I have come to despise university and the whole structure of "higher learning".
I cannot even tell you what I studied this fall, I had to go look it up.
Anthropology: culture and people,
Leadership and Group Dynamics,
Counseling for Health and Well being.
And this winter
Program Planning,
Senior Seminar on Diversity Inclusion,
Abnormal Psychology.
I also worked all this school year. Doing community development work (as my boss pointed out), youth engagement, and youth programming with a focus on mental health and recreation.
On the last day of classes, my senior seminar prof handed out this eye charm, from Michael's as she pointed out, to represent two eyed seeing. A theory we learned this year, that is grounded in the concept for your work to be look at it through the eyes of the colonizers, and then also through the eyes of the indigenous or oppressed group. And how she wanted us to place this little eye charm somewhere that we will look often to remind us of this theory and the importance that we all need to carry it on in our work.
Background info time: this class was one I was put in because I wanted to do an independent study on indigenous leisure, and it was rejected more than once, despite having numerous professors and professionals in the flied offered to supervise the project. Their reasoning was because this senior seminar course already existed that included indigenous leisure, and a deep dive in Indigenous leisure was not really relevant to my degree, but that's another story and something I still shake my head at.
Back to this eye, and when she handed it out, I was not impressed. And I actually rebelled back at her, by pointing out how the university is not meeting its promise to indigenize the health science curriculum. Because the indigenous perspectives we got this year was limited to the blanket exercise (which I really dislike for many reasons) and my bringing in a Mi'kmaq film makers for one class, where they shared the history of hockey and their journey on tracing its roots back to pre-European contact. That's it. I'm sorry that is not indigenizing anything, that is not even trying.
How she responded to my rebel, was a line I have heard often, pretty much anytime I bring up this topic to anyone at the university: unhappy with the program and degree; do a master and teach..
I was so mad at this eye, and my whole program. It has lived, buried in the bottom of my backpack. Under a lot of crayola thin tip markers, crumpled up paper, random sour candies and a dime (which I almost ate by mistake when I was eating the sour candies).
But tonight, I dug it out. And decided it does hold something for me. But its not the theory the prof intended it would, it holds the idea that the advocating and decolonizing still needs to happen. Now more than ever, especially in Nova Scotia. And for now, I will do everything I can to make sure my work is decolonized and as inclusive as I can make it. Yes, I am exhausted with this work at my university, but I must carry on with it. Because it needs to happen. You cannot work within Canada, say you're inclusive, and not include indigenous people.
So that little eye, is getting a home on my DBT token. Because that was also a thing that I accomplished this academic year. Dialectical Behavior Therapy, the calling grace that was supposed to save me and fix all of my problems. And yes, it taught me important skills and has helped reteach my brain how to function like a normal person. It was hard, the hardest therapy I have ever done.
In reality, this year was hard. But it was also a year that taught me a lot. Working hands on in the community, building a program from grant up, the travel opportunities I have had, and the whole rewiring my brain. Year five of this university degree may have been one of my hardest, but it also the one where I experienced the most outside of the class room learning.
The year when I have really begun to accept that no matter what I do or write, my paper will never peak above a 70% because I do not share the same views and values of my program, and I lack "academic style writing skills".
I will always do poorly on 100 question multiple choice questions, as that is too many for questions for brain to handle and I will confuse and contradict myself. The longer I spend writing a test the worse I do because my anxiety kicks into overdrive after about 30 minutes in.
And yes, I will do well at presentations, but I will talk faster than the prof would like, because I am trying to get all the words out before I have a panic attack and forget everything I worked hard on.
I also learned how the label high-function person with a disability is actually harmful to you. It means academic support and accommodations will turn you away, we will give you a separate space to write in if you meet our deadlines but that's it. Doesn't matter what you Family Doctor or Occupational therapist writes down as suggestions, because at the end of your day you are high functions, your too well for their services.
I have learned university is not for me, but yet I push on, because society has deemed it is necessary for me to have the piece of paper with my name on it. Don't worry already decide the day I graduate I'm setting a copy of that degree on fire, because its crap and means nothing to me, all it holds is anxiety, self doubt, and years of being told I'm average or even not good enough, that I should try harder, care more, that I am only at my current university because I fill their token diversity seat.
Yup. That is the end of Year 5. Two more to go.