I can feel uncertainty looming over the software industry as the hiring frenzy of the COVID era has given way to layoffs and hiring freezes. The power transferring from employee to employer is palpable. I see former coworkers, seasoned professionals grapple with imposter syndrome, questioning their self-worth. Despite the enormous privilege they've enjoyed, the feelings weigh on them all the same. If that's how they feel, what would it feel like to be a Waterloo student today? It brings me back to when I entered the ECE program amid the 2008 global financial crises.
The first day of class, Donna Strickland—who would later go on to win a Nobel Prize—wrote a problem on the whiteboard, turned around, and said "This problem is going to be on your final exam, so pay attention". I had no idea what she was talking about, nor was I able to comprehend the problem. Next class, Calculus, the professor scribbles on the blackboard and says, "We'll be reviewing integration for the first couple of weeks. Raise your hand if you've learned this before". Most of the class raises their hand. I feel a pit in my stomach. What is he talking about? Then there was a time when a student raised his hand and asked a question in Mandarin. Professor responded back in Mandarin and continued to teach his lesson like nothing happened.
If that was the classroom experience, exams weren't much better. Midterm exams, or as it was often referred to "Hell week". A series of multi-hour exams all in one week. The relief you feel writing the last exam is indescribable. Always followed by multi-day binge drinking to numb the feelings and forget the stress you just endured. When the midterm grades come in, it feels like a collective gut punch, a crushing 40% class average. For many, it's our first real taste of failure. And then come the grading gymnastics. Some professors curve the average up to a barely-passing 60% while others shift weight to the final, making the midterm pointless. As the semester concludes, the final report card arrives and I'm flooded with relief over a passing grade. New year brings new faces into the class, and a few close friends no longer there. A hard realization washed over me that not everybody made it. I start having nightmares for the first time in my life. The same nightmare, again and again: I get the report card, I fail, I'm kicked out, I don't have a job, I let everybody down. The nightmare would continue years after graduating. I woke up covered in sweat, panicked, slowly coming to and remembering that it was a dream, that I did end up graduating and my life continued.
Just as academics felt like survival, so did finding internships. Trying to write a resume and get a job four months into school was comedic. The job hunt was a performance we all had to take part in. Employers knew we had no real experience, but we competed anyway-padding resumes, grasping for any edge over classmates. I sent out over 400 applications, received a handful of interviews and finally landed an offer. But on the day I was supposed to start, I got an email stating the company had no money to pay me and therefore closed the position. Just like that, it was gone. I ended up back at my high school job as an electrician, something Waterloo approved without hesitation - because in 2008, they knew how brutal the market was.
The journey was one of the biggest emotional roller coasters of my life. Filled with self-doubt, I'd look to seniors for reassurance. They'd always say, "It gets easier". I took that to mean the environment would soften, but that wasn't the case. Every year, familiar faces disappeared-some dropped out, others failed. A year in school felt like a round of Squid Game - relentless, high-stakes and unforgiving. You never knew who would make it to the next stage. It's didn't get easier, I just get better at playing the game. I figured out learning strategies that work for me. I stop going to class and just locked myself in the library before exams. My anxiety would fuel my rise in grades with little to no love for the subject. I learned to grind and when stress got high, we drank. It took many years to unwind my alcohol use as my coping mechanism. Some of my friends never did. Yet despite everything-the brutal workload, the fear, the constant pressure - those years remain one of my favorite chapters of my life. The struggle forged the strongest relationships I have to this day, 15 years later. And for a long time after graduating, I found myself wanting to go back.
For those of you that are in the middle of it, stay strong and keep going. Lean in and lean on each other. Learn, struggle, celebrate, fail and get back up. This time in your life will shape you in ways you won't understand until much later. And when you finally do, you'll look back and know-it was worth it. I believe in you.