For as long as I can remember I have always lived in a state of confusion. To say that I did not know what I was doing for my university applications would be perfectly accurate. I’ve never felt overly passionate about any future goals or aspirations because they fluctuate constantly based on my feelings at any given time. When I was three, there was no doubt in my mind that I was going to be a princess when I grew up. When I was twelve, I wanted nothing more than to be a high school mathematics teacher (I despise mathematics). When I was fifteen, I dreamt of saving lives as a cardiothoracic surgeon. Now picture this: I’m seventeen, sitting in front of an empty word document named “Applications” and my brain is blank. As I started maturing from my imaginative mindset, I knew I had to start making important choices for my future.
Throughout high school, I was adamant on attending a university close to home. Ultimately, I decided on Western at the last minute because I so desperately craved growth that would not be possible being in the same environment I was born and raised in. Since pursuing post-secondary education out of province was something that never crossed my mind, I was not very familiar with many schools, including Western. I read up on the prestigious Ivey Business School, thought about how great I would look in purple and boom; I had finished my application and was crying in the hallways of Saugeen-Maitland Hall after my parents had left to the London airport to fly back home. Had I gone to UBC, I would have been able to spend joyful weekends with old friends and have dinner with my parents every time I missed them. The hardest decisions are the ones where both choices have qualities that the other lacks, but I understood that sacrifices had to be made. My lack of concrete goals was what attracted me to apply to business and commerce programs, because of its versatility and the ability to apply concepts to virtually any industry. The struggle came after I finished my various applications as I could not help but feel unprepared for the future. I had spent my high school career crafting a skill for biology, but it wasn’t the abandonment of my STEM interests that scared me. It was my ignorance about the world of business. What do accountants even do? What is a stock? Why can’t the government just print more money? How could I compare myself to so many of the exceptional and ambitious students who had prepared their whole lives to pursue a career in business?
I cursed myself for never knowing what I wanted to do and felt anxious for my future. I didn’t understand how this could happen to me — I was a good student! I worked hard in my classes and was involved in student government. Outside of academics I was a part of the pageantry program in my community and I practiced classical piano for ten years. In my free time, I tutored elementary students, cleaned cages at the local animal shelter, delivered lunches to senior citizens on the weekends and wrote letters to senior homes during the pandemic. However, I felt that none of these had prepared me for a career in business and I would be lying if I said I didn’t base my university applications from typing in “top Canadian business programs” into my search bar. I did not feel confused anymore --, I just felt clueless.
I cannot exactly say that everything worked out as soon as I stepped foot on campus. I quickly realized that being a business student meant so much more than listening to lectures and studying for exams, but more about the community you create. Being enrolled in BMOS, I took first year as a trial run to learn more about business and many moments truly tested my comfort zone. I had the pleasure of taking the first-year Ivey course, Business 1220 and could not find it in me to participate for months. I registered my LinkedIn account, where I internet-stalked other users for a good two weeks until I realized my account was public. I did not flip to the end of my first accounting and finance midterm and ended up handing it in with a quarter of it empty. Despite what seemed like metaphorically tripping, getting up and tripping again, I stayed faithful to myself and slowly started to make progress. I gained courage to start talking to my professors during office hours, allowing me to comfortably participate in future classes. Through LinkedIn, I started to connect with high school Ivey alumni and gained valuable advice from their experiences. I participated in my first case competition, prepared for many interviews, and eventually worked my first job in accounting over the summer. The first general year of BMOS allowed me to explore different fields of business and I was able to gain more perspective of what I wanted to pursue as a career.
Take it from someone who has made every freshman mistake ever: the first year of university is difficult. During my transition from secondary to post-secondary education, anxiety for my future was my daily iteration. Every time something did not go as I planned, I would think of how my life would have been had I chose to stay in Vancouver or to pursue a career in STEM. I learned to look at progress as an indicator of success and not results. Now when I start to feel stressed, instead of inevitably spiraling about the accomplishments I could have fulfilled had I made different choices, I take a step back and look at all the progress I have already made. Though I have always felt confused and sometimes clueless, I have still been able to learn and grow immensely through never giving up on myself. Pure ambition is nothing without the discipline and perseverance to see it through. With all I have learnt the past two years, if I were given the chance to talk to my seventeen-year-old self still blankly staring at her laptop screen, I would tell her that the future ahead is bright -- and to turn her LinkedIn account to private!