UVic Reflections: What I Wish I Knew When I Started University

It’s interesting wandering through your campus between June to August. Whenever I park, there would be a dozen or so vehicles to greet me. It’s quiet. You can almost hear songbirds whispering from the neighbouring forest. It’s easy to forget the thundering energy that university life brings. It’s back to school season and already the leaves are showing the first hints of autumn. I know, I miss summer too. 

In September, driving  around campus requires me to weave through several parking lots. I pull up around nine o’clock in the morning. If I’m lucky, I’ll find an open spot behind the greenhouse close to the forest trail. The seasons are changing. But as I lock my car door and listen closely, I can faintly hear songbirds flying. The extra walking is not so bad. It provides lovely texture as I observe waves of students pour through entrances and walkways.

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 For eight years I’ve spent my weekdays at the University of Victoria (UVic for short). The first five were me figuring life out as a microbiology student. The next three have been a combination of supplemental studies, research work, and teaching biology. 

I’m twenty-six. When I first walked across Ring Road I was eighteen. I know this will date me, but most of my degree took place during the pandemic. The world was different before quarantine. Like many first-years, I had big dreams for myself. Some hold true, others have changed drastically. It seems like undergrad went by in a blink of an eye. My own graduation feels like a nostalgic memory. I wake up, drive to campus, except when I walk across Ring Road now, I do so as a seasoned teacher assistant and a UVic alumni (I’m still getting used to “alumni” rolling off my tongue). 

I should make something clear: I don’t wish to go back and redo anything. This fantasy may have occupied my mind a few years ago but not anymore. We can imagine what if what if all we want, but eventually we all have to face the bittersweet music: none of us can go back. And maybe that’s for the best. Whether we like it or not, time only moves forward. We can reflect and learn from our past, but we shouldn’t live there. Living is for the present. 

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I’m writing this blog not only for myself but also for everyone venturing and returning to this bizarre place known as university. There’s another thing I want to make clear: these lessons are not prescriptive. As a green teacher assistant, I was eager to share my longlist of unsolicited advice to upcoming students. I’m hesitant now because I realize everyone walks a unique path. I don’t know the full scope of your lived experience. What works for me may not work for you. The world I moved through in 2018 was very different to the world first-years find themselves in 2025. 

I understand that there’s university students seeking answers, wondering how to make sense of these years. But advice won’t suffice. You, the student body, both near and far, deserve more. I’ll share what I wish I knew, not to romanticize the past, but to illuminate what I’ve learned. Not only that, I promise to carry these lessons wherever I go. Who knows, perhaps the act of sharing can shed light upon the stories we tell ourselves.

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You already have the most important study tool

I used to adore back to school shopping. Coloured gel pens, five-star spiralled notebooks, and every online note-taking system you could get your hands on. It’s easy to get caught up in finding the best study method. I know that university courses (and schooling in general) demand organization and optimization. There are countless tools that can ease our studies, but they shouldn’t make us neglect the most important tool: our minds. Maybe this sounds obvious, but trust me, as  students, the most valuable investment you can make is cultivating a strong relationship with your mind. Write stuff down, type prompts into search engines, but whatever you do, don’t outsource your thinking. Understand your own mental space: how you think, how you learn, how you respond to stressors. It’s difficult. There will be days where you’ll  paddle upstream (and from time to time, swimming up waterfalls). But it’s worth it. The very act of sharpening your mind will allow you to solve the complex problems around us. So simplify your studies. You only need a few things. 

Never be afraid to ask questions

It took me three years to ask professors questions directly. I rationalized that my questions were stupid. I’ll just learn by listening to what others ask. Three-hundred person lectures can be intimidating. You’re a small fish learning to swim in deep waters. But regardless of what people tell you, never be afraid to ask questions. It’s the foundation to learning. This applies on the psychological level. If there’s something mentally bothering you, don’t be afraid to ask yourself questions. Geez, I wonder, why do I feel compelled to work so hard? What do I want out of my education? It’s alright if answers don’t arrive immediately. Intentional pondering will allow ideas to float closer over time. In terms of interacting with peers, I’ve found that asking questions can be a wonderful social lubricant. You might stumble into a study space where each table is taken. There’s someone working alone at a corner table. You approach them. Without even thinking you ask, “Do you mind if I sit here?” Who knows, you might strike up a conversation. Maybe this person will become a close friend down the line. 

Everything will change, and that’s okay

I learned an insightful phenomenon during one of my psychology courses. It’s called the End of History Illusion. It states how people, regardless of age, easily recognize changes from their past but are less likely to believe equal amounts of change will transpire in their future. I can’t remember if I felt this way during the class but it definitely rang true during graduation. I thought to myself, Yes, this is who I am, everything has led me to this chapter of my life. I couldn’t be more wrong. An avalanche of change awaited me in the years to come. It was beautiful, painful. It was life being life. There will be lots on your mind during university (I’m not just talking about courses and clubs). There will be habits you will embody, values you will cherish, and dreams that you will yearn for, day in and day out. This is natural. It’s part of the process. But just know that before long, everything can change, and that’s perfectly fine. Priority number three may become priority number one. This is normal. You can’t always predict the trajectory because life unfolds organically. Embrace it. Change is how we grow.

These won’t be the best years of your life

 As a teenager, whenever I joined family and friends for dinner, people would always proclaim how university would be the best years of my life. This circled again and again like a broken record. These will be the best years of your life. They won’t. Let me explain. In my early months as a teacher assistant, I continued hearing this phrase being uttered across campus. I then thought to myself, “Isn’t that being a bit pessimistic?” What you’re essentially saying to young people is “Get ready kid, it’s all downhill from here.” I refuse to believe this. If you’re not buying my stance, let’s try an experiment. Imagine we’re fifty years in the future. 2075. I’d be seventy-six years old. We’re at a community gathering. People are laughing, dancing, and music is filling the air. A family friend approaches you. She’s a teenager, hoping to hear some favourite memories from your past. Within seconds you tell a story. Now, I don’t know lick about your life, but I have a strong feeling you won’t detail your university studies. My guess is that you’ll describe how you fell in love with your partner, the feeling of holding your firstborn child in the hospital, and how you got to watch your son or daughter shed tears of joy at their wedding. Make no mistake, university will be deeply meaningful. But will they be the best years? I hope not. I like to imagine university as the highly praised prologue of a much longer book. A book filled to the brim with adventure, tragedy, love, and discovery.

Even if you feel alone, you’re never truly alone

I want to conclude these lessons on a personal note. I’ve experienced countless dark periods during undergrad. The pandemic exacerbated my emotions but this wasn’t the only factor. I was hard on myself, still am to some degree. I remember receiving a fail on my first biology paper. Weeks were spent researching and writing, but after glancing at the score, everything went down the drain. It was six o’clock in the evening and dark outside. I left my dorm room in a thick hoody and meandered around Ring Road. The weather was cold, but the turmoil was bone-piercing. Loneliness – that’s not a strong enough word. I was separated from who I was and who I was supposed to be. The person grading my paper should have written you are a failure because that’s how I felt. I mentioned how I wouldn’t go back to change anything. That’s still true despite everything. However, if I could write a message to my first-year self, crying on the campus sidewalk late into the night, I would send him the following: Hey Ethan, I know it feels unbearable right now. I know, I know. I’ve been where you are many times, and as difficult as it may seem, it’s true: it does get better. You may feel alone tonight, but you’re never truly alone. There’s a community of people with resources, wisdom, and warmth around you. Help is closer than you think. I may not be where you are in the physical sense, but every time you close your eyes, and hold your heart, I’m right there. If you fall, I’ll catch you. You’re not alone. Just keep going. Things will get better, I promise. Take care of yourself. I love you. 

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Whether you’re a student embarking on a fresh educational milestone or someone returning to the familiar studying groove, I want to wish you an amazing start to the semester. I hope that you not only succeed but that you also create priceless memories. As I explained earlier, my list is not prescriptive pieces of advice. I can’t deliberately suggest what you should or shouldn’t do. I don’t know what’s best for you. More importantly, you’re the one holding the pen. I can supply the paper and the ink, but you will have to write your story. You will have to decide which words to heed, how to derive meaning, and where you should steer your life. Guidance through listening and reading will always be valuable, but I truly believe that at the end of the day, you will know what’s best for yourself. Besides, you’ll grow far more if you experience these lessons on your own time.