T-Minus Seven Days Left of 2013

This year presented many challenges for me personally and for my family. I began January 2013 with the prospect of landing a spot at Ryerson University in Toronto. I had applied for the psychology program, as in secondary school, psychology was the only subject I could imagine myself studying for the next four years of my life.

I was so very wrong. 

Psychology is not the last subject on Earth that I am capable of learning or understanding, yet, for so many years as a high school student, I allowed myself to believe that that was it. A part of me wishes to blame my school for never providing decent chances for their students to discover majors outside the realm of math and science, but in the end, I know that a large sum of my decision to join the psych. train was my fault. 

I never enjoyed school. Perhaps when I was younger and my assignments consisted of reading before bedtime or solving four math problems, I could see myself waking up with a bright smile to attend another day in an old brick building. Those innocent days are long gone now and have been replaced with adamant hate for the word 'learning.' 

School is no longer about learning, rather, forcing as much information as humanly possible down a student's throat until they are left with two choices: acceptance or termination. I was embarrassed before to admit that school has forced countless thoughts of suicide in my head, but now I realize that I am not the problem. The education system is. 

They always say, "everyone learns differently. We are all unique." 

Well, where is that when the twenty-percent of people for whom the standard school system does not work? We take tests, quizzes, exams, etc. based off a style of testing that only works for a specific group of students. Where in the world do the rest of us go then? I despise tests and whatever else follows. They never truly measure what I am capable of. They are simply measuring my memory and everyone and their mother knows how terrible mine is. I only wish for the days where testing could actually be something to look forward to. 

I never got into Ryerson. 

I waited for a reply for months up until May where I received a letter declining my admission. If I'm honest, I don't think I have ever cried as hard as I did when my mother told me "it's alright, Rida" and I was still re-reading the words in the hopes they might change. They never did, obviously. 

Then it was the final week of May and I was left pondering what school from whom I did receive acceptances I should accept for September classes. And after much talking with my sister, I decided McMaster was the best choice. 

It was, and probably will always be, one of the best decisions I have ever made. 

The university is incredible. From its teaching, to its architecture, and its people. I love it all despite having seen very little of it. For the first four months, I took a bus, then a train, and then another bus to the reach the school. Four hours commuting every day has not been the highlight of my freshman career, but I am not complaining. I sometimes wonder to myself why I enjoy going to McMaster and I cannot put my finger on one final reason. There are a cluster of them, however, one reason that sticks out is the happiness I get from stepping onto campus each morning. I feel like I belong there. 

I am not studying psychology at McMaster. Instead, I am hoping to major in communications with maybe a minor in social psychology. It is definitely a different path from how I envisioned myself as a seventeen year old still in high school. But, I am enjoying communications a lot and I hope the future will hold great things for me and everyone else.