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News@Ivey · Kim Randall

From admissions to alumni: What I thought I knew about EMBA. Until I lived it.

Jun 25, 2025

Kim Randall (front row, centre) with her EMBA class

Kim Randall (front row, centre, holding sign) with her EMBA class

Kim Randall is Associate Director of Recruitment and Admissions for Ivey’s Executive MBA and an EMBA ’25 candidate. In her blog below, she reflects on her transformative EMBA journey – from surviving a health crisis a few months prior to the program to navigating life’s challenges while an EMBA participant – offering a candid look at growth, resilience, and the power of community.

Three months before I started my Executive MBA, I was in the intensive care unit fighting for my life. Roughly 12 hours into the most dizzying medical emergency of my nearly 40 years, I tearfully asked the nurse, “Am I going to die?” She looked down at me, laying helpless on the hospital bed, and gently said, “I don’t know.”

Three months later, I was sitting in a classroom with 57 strangers, beginning a journey I had spent years helping others start. So, obviously, I didn’t die. But in the spirit of transparency, there were moments during the first residence week when I remember thinking, Sepsis didn’t kill me, but Fredrik [Odegaard]’s Competing with Analytics class just might.

As Ivey Business School’s lead for Executive MBA Admissions and Recruitment, I have spent years guiding hundreds of professionals into this program, coaching them through self-doubt, evaluating their readiness, and helping them envision the transformation ahead. I was so excited for the chance to follow in their footsteps. So I kept going. And along the way, I stretched, stumbled, learned, and persevered. It turns out, that is one of EMBA’s biggest lessons: let go of perfection. Embrace progress.

Kim Randall at Ivey's Toronto campus

Living what I used to preach

I used to speak confidently about what makes someone a good fit for this program: academic horsepower, leadership experience, resilience, value alignment. But I now see those traits through an entirely different lens. Living the program has given me a deeper, more personal appreciation for just how much those qualities demand of you when you’re actually in the seat. It's one thing to spot resilience on a résumé, but it’s another to muster it at 1 a.m., preparing case summaries after putting your kids to sleep and fielding work emails in between team meetings.

EMBA is hard. Not just academically (though I’ll continue to have nightmares about discounted cash flows for years to come). It’s hard because life doesn’t slow down when you begin. In my case, it sped up. One month into the program, my marriage ended. Overnight, I became a single mom, a full-time employee, and a full-time student. The “village” I had built around me to support this journey disappeared. At the same time, my mom was undergoing aggressive cancer treatment in my hometown a few hours away. Weekends not spent at school were often spent driving to be with her.

There were days when it felt like everything was crumbling around me. But as my dad reminds me (almost daily): Don’t look back. Look forward. Your future is bright.

So, I did. I looked forward to team meetings over Zoom after putting my kids to sleep. I looked forward to case studies and class weekends packed with 32 hours of learning, laughter, and coffee runs. To the capstone project trip to Vietnam. To the constant ding of our class chat – messages about assignments, life updates, non-EMBA achievements, and world news. I looked forward to all of it.

Kim Randall with her children

Kim Randall with her children

A new kind of empathy

Before embarking on EMBA, I thought I understood what it takes. But there are things you can’t fully see from the other side. I didn’t fully appreciate the emotional toll, or the emotional growth. The courage it takes not just to apply, but to show up day after day while juggling everything else. Now, when I talk to prospective students, I see the ambition and the apprehension. And I hold space for both. Because this degree demands more than time and money. It asks you to grow, stretch, and surrender the idea that you can do it all perfectly.

And somewhere in between the modules and life lessons, I found myself learning far more than just strategic thinking, financial fluency, and operational insight.

I learned to:
1.    Not underestimate the power of a simple text to check in on a friend or colleague.
2.    Sometimes, hit the gym rather than read the case.
3.    Be patient. What is meant for you will not pass you.
4.    In business, growth is good. In life, it’s uncomfortable. Sit with it.
5.    Embrace the chaos, because from it comes so much clarity.

The thing I didn’t know I’d find

Most of all, I learned how much people matter. My classmates brought accountability, energy, and a deep well of empathy. Together, we held each other up. Through deadlines and personal challenges, during moments of doubt and bursts of laughter. They made space for me to be strong, but also to be vulnerable. I’ve never been more grateful for a group of people I didn’t know I needed.

Now, just like that: the program is over. And I’m still looking forward.

To convocation in October. To celebrating milestones: promotions, new ventures, birthdays, growing families. To staying connected with 57 of the most remarkable people I’ve ever worked alongside.

Because this isn’t the end. It’s just the beginning.

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