Beginning my second year of university was like having a middle child. Prior to entering, I thought that having already had a year of school under my belt, being a sophomore would mean a more mature, sophisticated me ready to tackle all that U of T could throw at me.

Reality check.

I feel no more mature or sophisticated or knowledgable. I still gawk slightly when people speak up in huge lectures, I still have a fear of talking to professors (who seem no less superior and scary), and I still don’t have better time management. What I do not have, though, is the excitement that I had last year. During frosh week, I would look wistfully at the little froshies who always seemed so wide-eyed with excitement as they cheered on their respective colleges and yelled insults at each other. Now, after having moved out of residence, I just looked on at them and recalled the time I had the same zeal for my college.

Classes are not any easier. If anything, I feel so behind. Professors expect us to build on our foundations from first year, and I struggle to finish my endless readings. Last year, while I might’ve been complaining, now I just frustratingly chastise myself for letting things slip.

Also, night classes. Last year, I had one and I hated it. Now, I have one almost everyday.

So the biggest difference between this year and last year?

No longer is there that excitement, but placid acceptance. One more year closer to graduation, and I’m just as confused. But with last year’s gruelling training, I’m just glad that I can say, ‘come at me bro.’

So, to all the second years, how do you feel?

Before I begin my post, I would like to clarify two things:

First, I was identified by others as a keener. Prior to coming to Canada, I thought there were only nerds. Apparently there were also over-achievers who were “fondly” nicknamed “keeners” by the general populace. Thus I am one of those. Second, please do not judge the keener community. To me personally, I enjoy slaving and overstudying. So before you think about how “life-less” or “weird” I am, I’d like to say for myself that going to Gernstein and reading my textbook on a Tuesday afternoon is pleasant. So it’s like vacationing in the Maldives, only in Toronto (saving money and time).

Most comments on online forums and websites are about how hard U of T is. So to keeners, I’d just like to say, if you worked your butt off in high school, then UT is not that bad. In fact, for me, it was easier. I actually get 8 hours of sleep per night, as opposed to the six in high school.

#1 It’s not that hard

Trust me. Having to not take courses I disliked such as the sciences, everything in university is much easier. With a wide array of classes and a lot of time to study for it (which, as keeners, I’m sure you will), then getting a 3.7+ should not be a problem.

#2 Don’t trust the ASSU

That was my biggest regret. I wanted to have a relaxing course in my first semester, so I took a super duper easy seminar course. It was super duper easy, except there was one problem: the teacher curved all our grades down since it was THAT easy. Being a naive first-year, I did not know this could happen, so I was super sad when my grade was lower by two grades. It turned out to be my lowest grade and a source of some mourning.

For all the courses that people warned me about, I did swimmingly because I put a lot of effort into them. ASSU is good to gauge the difficulty of the course, but somehow, I managed liking the courses that people gave the lowest rankings to just because I was willing to put in the extra effort.

#3 Take more courses in your first year

There are so many second-year classes you could take that don’t have any prerequisites, so do it when you have time and when university hasn’t fatigued you. I only wish I explored more elective options, such as religion courses with really fun names (Death and the Afterlife? You got me!).

To the keeners out there reading this, you’ll enjoy UT. Even though Urban Dictionary and eons of people bash it, you will be able to manage both your grades and a social life. There are so many opportunities that are just waiting for you to explore, so be excited. If you worked hard in high school, continue. If you didn’t, start now. If you still don’t find the motivation…party hard.

As I’m doing readings in the wee hours for my US Foreign Policy class, I can’t resist the temptation to do some stalking of the professor for the class, Arnd Jurgensen.

On the first day of class, I arrived late, and hence missed out on his introduction. Only just now did I realize that his name is Arnd, which I had previously assumed was Arnold. Although most would associate ‘Arnold’ with this:

I automatically think of Arnold the football head:

Anyway, what else to do besides go on RateMyProfessor to see his ratings? Some more popular ones were “he’s verrry charming,” “HOT,” and “really really smart and REALLY good looking.” Good to know I’m not the only one who thought that. But he’s also a good lecturer; he very patiently answers everyone’s questions, going into great depth, with many examples. Having taught the course for many years, he sure knows his US Foreign Policy.

Anyway, after that cursory look at RateMyProfessor, I went to Google Images. However, the first pictures made me go, “huh?” What I expected were typical professor pictures – headshots. Instead, what I got were pictures of him rocking an electric guitar.

What?

Is this even the right guy? I mean, it sure looks like him, and how many Arnd Jurgensens are there out there, realistically?

So I went to his LinkedIn. He sure is a man of many trades, having taught environmental impacts of technology in the Engineering department and then all that Poli Sci jazz. However, he’s also active in the Toronto Music scene! And he’s not just limited to the electric guitar either. He can also play the banjo, the guitar, the saz (what?), dobro (more what?), et cetera (!!). He’s performed “with groups including: The Woodchoppers Association; Shady Tree; Toronto Improvisers Orchestra; Built to Suit and many others.” Man, the only thing that could make him even awesomer is if he played the bass!

So, after half an hour of Internet stalking, I’ve learned that my attractive professor is also a musical genius who’s taught a bunch of super smarty-pants engineers.

So go stalk your professors! You’ll never know what you’ll find.

Now I shall go back to my readings. If only they were half as interesting as my stalking session.

Before university, back in the good ol’ days, the first day of school was something I anticipated. Finally, I’d see everyone again! The end of bumming around and finally seeing everyone again would get me excited. Especially during high school, it seems like there was always somebody would always grow a head taller or whose face would now have facial hair.

University has changed that. After two measly weeks of “summer,” another semester commences. While everyone else is posting pictures on Facebook about their epic summer adventures, I can only offer a fake smile when explaining my current situation to my friends in the States. “Yeah, summer ended for me already.” Instead, what I have is six weeks of intense studying. Since I’m taking 1.5 credits this term, my weekly schedule consists of four daily two-hours classes and two two-hour classes. When university eased me into a pretty relaxing weekly routine, having everything this intense is a new change. Instead of a week, I now only have a day to finish forty-page readings. The midterm? Oh, it’s in two weeks. A research paper? Due in four weeks. Besides the obvious academic challenges, the social challenges are great too. It’s rare to run into someone you know wherever you go, and the absence of extracurriculars makes it even lonelier.

But on the bright side?

I’d like to think that summer school does not carry the connotation it had back in the days. Instead of taking it because of a failed class, I’m doing it for intellectual pursuit, lightening the workload for next year, and using time productively. That’s what I’m convincing myself with.

Trust me, it helps when your friends keep inconsiderately posting pictures of themselves on exotic beaches, and you’re reveling that you can Facebook stalk them in lecture since you have Wi-Fi access.

I remember the first day I moved into residence. A bunch of energetic frosh leaders took my things and moved them into my room. Upon entering my room, I was shocked at how small it was. The lighting seemed too dim, the floor too brown, and the wood furniture too chipped. The frosh leaders’ saying “wow, this is such a nice room” did not help alleviate my feeling of doom.

For one year, I was going to be trapped in this box-like room.

Now flash forward eight months later. I’m still in my room and there are boxes. Except this time, it’s because I’m moving out.

Having graduated from high school last year, saying goodbye was the hardest. To those dear friends you’ve created so many good memories with, how do you part? This year, although I’m living with the expectation of seeing them again next year, the fact that we won’t be gathered here, “slumming” it out together in the collective experience that is res life, is sad. Sure, you might bump into them occasionally at Sid Smith or Robarts, but there won’t be any late night food trips or dropping in randomly to watch movies together. Residence is a perfect place to do devious things to your friends, such as taking a dustpan, pour milk onto it, and slip it underneath your friend’s door (not talking from personal experience…maybe). Instead, you’ll have to specially schedule ahead to meet up, unless you take a trip to visit your friend’s house in your PJs uninvited.

The boxes, the torn down posters, and the bareness of the room establishes that this was never really my home, but a temporary stay in my four year trip.

So with that nostalgic-ness aside, I’ll say:

Goodbye, residence. Goodbye, first year. Next year will be better.

Before coming to university, my biggest fear was the washrooms, or more specifically, the cleanliness of them. What would happen if I needed to use the washrooms in the AM? Would the lights be on, or would it be like a scene from Harry Potter where the water is dripping and I hear demonic hissings? What if all the stalls were occupied? What if somebody had been sick in the bathroom? After almost a year living in res, I’m glad to say that…I’m definitely moving out next year and the bathroom is a big reason why.

You’d think that living on an all-girls’ floor would mean it’d be clean, right? I mean, aren’t girls supposed to embody hygiene and rainbows and sparkles and whatnot? This turned out to be a lie when I discovered my friend’s co-ed floor had a bathroom cleaner than mine. My optimistic image of girls being clean has been shattered now, but I’m glad to say that it has definitely taught me to adapt to even the worse of situations.

My everyday adventure:

(I apologize for the sideways photos, my iPad was being difficult again.)

1. Go into the stall. Will the toilet be clean? Flushed? I’ve truly learned that not everybody knows how to flush (stand there, pull the switch, and wait for a few seconds). Too many times have I walked into a cauldron, an amalgamation of different types of…stuff. There will be weekends when there will only be one bearable stall left and even that one would be something pretty gross.

2. The sinks. I once saw dirt in the sink. Once we were missing a sink because someone sat on it. I once saw a bloody (what blood?) tissue next to the faucet. But usually it’s not that bad, just some toothpaste and hair, the usual.

The person who dumped her tea leaves into the sink was kind enough to only throw a little away, so it’s only partially clogged now.

3. The showers. If you’ve ever lived in res, you’ll know the trek between your room and the bathroom involves a small migration. Sometimes, you forget something, and you have to go back to your room to get it. However, the showers are what I like best about the bathroom. If someone is showering, the shampoo’s fragrance will fill the air for a few minutes. Even the yellowed shower curtain doesn’t seem that bad…

…until somebody puts a used sanitary napkin on the towel rack, for all the world to see…

You’ll love res and you’ll hate it. You’ll hate it when it’s Sunday and the toilet has been filled with people’s regurgitations for three days already and there’s only one non-disgusting toilet left. You will love it when your friends are minutes away, when you can wake up ten minutes before class and run to school, and when you get to experience everything downtown Toronto has to offer without the restrictions of your parents. Finally, you will definitely love it when you get to move out next year, and you’re a changed, better person who has lived through it. So relish this suffering, because what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. So the take home point. If I and hundreds of other germaphobes can do this, then you can too!