Tag: students

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Student Life

Certainty? Never heard of her

Reflections on preparing for exchange in lockdown

I’m about to become insufferable. In a few days, I’m going to leave Montreal for Amsterdam, where I’ll be doing a semester at Vrije Universiteit (I hope to learn many things while I’m away, one being how to pronounce the name of my school).

As I’ve been so cautiously warned, my experiences studying abroad will become the incubator for all upcoming conversation topics. So naturally, I’m incredibly excited for this adventure and grateful to have access to such an amazing opportunity.

With the fifth wave in full swing, McGill canceling and reinstating their exchange program, and the general anxiety that comes with living through a pandemic, I’ve been holding my breath pretty much since I applied, hoping that I get to embark on this journey.

While Concordia International has assured students that they will still send them abroad despite the lockdown, the university encouraged us to continuously check in with our host countries’ protocols and weigh the risk of COVID-19 to make our decisions about whether to go accordingly.

Although the Netherlands currently has many cases, I’ve decided to continue with my plans.

Life there might not be exactly how I imagined it, but this is my only chance to study abroad if I want to graduate when I had hoped to. The pandemic is here to stay, so I’m going to learn to live with it and make the most of my experiences.

Since I need a negative COVID-19 test to enter the Netherlands, I’ve been practically quarantining two weeks leading up to my flight, hoping that my family members and I manage to avoid getting sick when Omicron is ravaging the city. It’s stressful because as much as I can avoid leaving my house, I know that this part of the journey is out of my control.

I’ve been finding it hard to limit my contact with friends and family that I know I’m not going to see for a while, and minimizing my time in stores picking up last minute pre-trip necessities.

Every time I do something semi-COVID risky, my whole trip abroad flashes before my eyes (even when I know that realistically, I’ll still be able to go, I’ll just be missing classes and have to change my flight — a doable but logistical nightmare).

While waiting and packing, I’ve been constantly monitoring the Netherlands’ COVID-19 protocols to make sure that I’m still allowed to enter the country. Since they are abiding by the EU travel ban, as of now, as long as I’m fully vaccinated, I’m allowed to fly in. On Jan. 20, however, when I was doing my routine browsing of travel restrictions, I was frustrated to see that they had just implemented a 10-day quarantine for people arriving from Canada.

Up until that point, I was permitted to enter the country and live freely but carefully upon my arrival, allowing me to take care of all the logistical matters (banking, cell phone plans, bike rentals, etc.) before classes start.

Not to mention, it wouldn’t leave me cooped up in a brand-new city when all I want to do is explore.

But hey, if I get there, I’ll be thrilled. A few days in isolation are definitely worth it for four months studying in Amsterdam.

While I was in the process of writing this, yet another change was made to the requirements for entering the Netherlands — boosted individuals don’t have to quarantine.

Annoyingly enough, at the time, this information was only available in Dutch, but luckily, my school forwarded us a translation.

This is a perfect example of the flip-flopping of expectations that I’ve been experiencing, though this time, it’s going in my favour! I’m really happy, but am also just waiting for another thing to be thrown in my way before I board that plane.

Still, while this lockdown has made nearly everything uncertain, what’s unwavering is my determination to make the best out of whatever comes my way. I know it’s cheesy, but the Dutch are known for their cheese anyways!

Update: Talia did make it to the Netherlands, and is now enjoying her time with her British flatmates. 🙂

 

Graphic by James Fay

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Opinions

My strange obsession: Day in My Life Vlogs

No Danielle-like-and-subscribe-buy-my-merch, it’s a day in MY life (I wish)

The extreme close-up of espresso dripping down into a marble mug.

The lo-fi beats shimmering over aesthetically pleasing B-roll footage of candles being lit, coffee being sipped, and hydro flasks being filled.

The La Croix-stocked fridge.

Let’s not forget about the eloquently lit bathroom consisting of The Ordinary skincare products, guasha stones, and eucalyptus hanging over a rainshower.

Hi. My name is Mélina and I have a slight obsession with “Day In My Life” vlogs.

There’s something about watching people on YouTube go through their days doing supposedly productive and wholesome things that just… gets me. From the morning coffee, to the seven-step skincare routine, to the weekly trip to the Village Juicery, I want it all.

When I open a video and see that it’s more than 10 minutes long, I know it’s going to be a good day for me. The truth is, I usually end up watching these videos for inspiration hoping they will encourage me to at least try to have a YouTuber-esque day in my life as well.

A day that is worthy of being accompanied by lo-fi beats as I film myself sipping an oat milk latte in my Barefoot Dreams robe, sitting on a white fluffy couch next to a perfectly manicured tall plant.

These YouTubers fill me with a different sense of “put-togetherness” that I haven’t quite felt before. At the same time, they also remind me that I should probably be getting to tasks that I’m avoiding, which is usually the case.

Through watching these vlogs, I too feel I am living the seemingly perfect life I get to witness through my laptop screen. Only in a less trendy, less glamorous, but equally caffeinated sort of way.

I may not be living out my life in a high rise apartment in New York City, grabbing expensive brunches with the gals, and reading spicy books by Colleen Hoover under fairy lights in a low-key type of coffee shop in Brooklyn, but I’m still living my best life.

However, if there’s one thing that these videos have taught me it is the absolute therapeutic pleasure of perfecting a skincare routine.

This has to be my favourite part.

Sometimes, I’ll stand in front of the mirror with my headband on, hair tied back, and snuggled in my bathrobe and recite my entire skincare routine, step-by-step. I do the whole shabang in a very “Harper’s Bazaar get unready with me” type of style.

I start with a classic, “Hey Guys! So I’ll be running you through how I take care of my skin…” and then go on to describe the benefits of each of the products I’m using each step of the way. I even do a little smize and shimmy in between steps, just to make myself FEEL like a real YouTuber.

The only people truly witnessing my routine are my cats, who like the warm bathroom floor.

You’re lying to yourself  if you’re reading this and thinking, “That’s weird I would never do that.” I know who you really are and you can’t hide from me.

Bottom line is that “Day in My Life” vlogs keep me sane these days, sort of. They’re that extra sprinkle that make my days better.

I’m not an influencer (if you didn’t catch that already). I know I can’t afford most of the things that they have or do.

In the words of Miss Ariana Grande: “I see it, I like it, I want it, I [don’t] got it.”

 

Graphic by James Fay

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Opinions Student Life

Can’t Handle The Cringe?

A look into silly handles from childhood and growing up with the internet

The year is 2010. Nine-year-old me has spent a few weeks eyeing the prospect of a Gmail account to chat with my friends. Wary of the dangers of the internet, my mom finally acquiesced, and sat with me as I created my account.

We sat there together, filling out all the necessary information — when I’d normally be yawning over the boring stuff, I was squirming in my seat, eager to choose my handle. I knew it had to be something fun, exciting, and quintessentially me. So, naturally, I pondered it with great concern.

I leafed through my address book from summer camp, looking for inspiration, when I came across an email handle that caught my eye immediately — “thepicklequeen.”

While I didn’t (and still don’t) like pickles, I knew that this was the path I wanted to take with my email, given my overwhelming, overpowering, and intense obsession with chocolate. My handle would be “thechocolatequeen.” It is the perfect encapsulation of who I am. Plus, it has a nice ring to it.

As I typed that into the server, I was appalled to find out that someone else had the same brilliant idea as me. I considered trying to reach them and have a chocolate eating contest to settle who was the real Chocolate Queen. But, as a nine-year-old, I realized that I might not have as big of an appetite as the person defending the title, and couldn’t stomach the thought of that crushing defeat.

I did what any kid would have done at that moment. I added my birthday to the end of the aforementioned handle, and thus, my beloved, silly email address was born.

From then on, “thechocolatequeen” was my identifying handle on the internet. It even had a brief stint as my Instagram handle. I should honestly change it back.

As much as it pains me, I now only use “thechocolatequeen” for promo emails and correspondences with old friends and family. But, looking back, I miss the unapologetic silliness that it conveyed, and decided to look into the slightly cringe elementary school email trend and how it’s progressed now that it’s 2022.

I used my Instagram story to find other silly email fiends, and their handles and stories did not disappoint.

Samantha Stermer made her handle around 2009, opting for one that didn’t reveal her full name at her father’s request due to safety concerns. She explained that as a kid, she was always climbing things. Fittingly, her nickname became “monkey,” so she decided to tack on her birthday and make that her handle.

“It was such a pain when I got older and had to figure out how to swap everything,” she said,  noting that in high school, if anyone had seen it, she would have been “mortified.”

Now, she has a more professional handle, but “monkey” remains her handle on iCloud. She finds it hilarious that when texting people on a recent trip to Portugal, the messages were coming from that account.

Sarah Lotfi, better known as “wdwfanatic,” created that handle in grade four or five, when her Walt Disney World phase was in full swing.

She explained that though she only uses this account for promos now, she still identifies with her younger self, and is a self-proclaimed “Disney adult.” While she fell out of this phase for a bit, she said that she spent lots of time during quarantine watching videos about Disney secrets. “It’s cool that I came back to myself,” she said.

Like many of us, when Lotfi started CEGEP, she realized that she needed to create a more professional account, but wasn’t happy about it. “I don’t want an email with my name in it,” she said. “That’s so boring.”

Lotfi laments that her name is often misspelled. “We wouldn’t have this problem if I was just the Walt Disney World fanatic, you know?”

In her opinion, we could all use a little more fun and self-expression in our emails. “Everything is so sanitized and so ‘LinkedIn.’ I hate that.”

I suggest a revolution where we revert back to our silly handles. Who needs a job? If they don’t want me as the Chocolate Queen, they won’t be getting me as anything else. I mean it.  At some point, they’ll have to notice the copious amount of chocolate wrappers in the work garbage cans.

In all seriousness, it’s very interesting to watch the shift in ways in which internet safety has changed as we’ve grown up.

“It’s weird that we used to protect ourselves by pretending we weren’t ourselves on the internet,” said Stermer. “Now, we are ourselves but we have to kinda change ourselves a little bit, and filter what part of ourselves [show] through.”

For better or for worse, as adults, the internet is now a place for real names and creating profiles that make us professional and employable. Or maybe that’s just a part of growing up. Either way, it’s important not to lose sight of what makes us who we are — whether it be monkeys, Disney World fanatics, or chocolate queens.

 

Graphic by Madeline Schmidt

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Opinions Student Life

Is it really that rewarding to be a winter athlete?

Laurie-Anne Palin/The Concordian

The real motivation behind going out in the cold

There are many ways to enjoy the outdoors during wintertime.

Of course, it all depends on the climate that you live in. How cold does it get? Do you have snow, ice? Or is it more of a mild winter temperature, where you get the occasional snow, but wearing heavy-duty winter gear isn’t a necessity to get your groceries?

Either way, there’s a lot you can do.

But is being outside in freezing cold weather really what our hearts desire? Or are we just trying to fit into the wishful image of a winter-loving well-rounded human being?

Most of us hate winter — it is a time reserved for the holidays, followed by a three-month hibernation. Maybe you’ll go outside once a day for a smoke, or perhaps a cup of coffee, but most of us make use of the extra dark hours of the day to binge-watch our favourite TV shows and eat lasagna.

Say you do want to go outside; what do you want to do? It all depends on access. In Montreal, it’s possible the best you can do is the Mont-Royal — not a bad spot. You see, when you live in the city, getting out to the wilderness to breathe fresh air and fall into fresh powdery snow is difficult, and a lot of the time expensive.

First, you gotta get out of town. Unless you have a car, you have to take a bus or a shuttle, but the bus may drop you off at a random gas station on the side of the highway. Nice.

Next, you need equipment. Whether you want to do alpine skiing, cross-country, or just some snowshoeing, you either need to carry it with you all the way to your destination, or you need to rent — expect to spend $40-50 per person. Finally, you need to make sure you have a suitable backpack to carry your food, extra layers, and water bottle, and don’t forget a good winter jacket on top of a breathable base layer of clothing.

Just writing all that down was exhausting.

But new sports and new ways to explore the outdoors keep popping up, and apparently, there is some real interest in winter sports.

Recently, a faction of alpine skiers is reigniting the interest in an old sport with its debut tied to medieval Norwegian traditions: alpine touring.

Now, strap on spikey “skins” to the back of your skis, and invest a couple thousand dollars on a new pair of “walking ski boots” (some claim they are comfortable, I have a hard time believing that), and climb up any mountain you desire!

Not exactly, but you get the idea.

In all honesty, I think I am just jealous of those who have the means and the time to invest themselves in outdoor sports like these. Right now, all I crave is to witness the silence of a snow-covered forest, and the void of a mountain valley.

But, you know, whatever. I’ll just keep being bitter from the comfort of my home, wasting away looking out of my window into the world, instead of living in it.

 

Photo by Laurie-Anne Palin

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Opinions

Flying off the shelves — the love for Squishmallows

One year later, let’s take a look at our plushie obsession

Last winter, it was hard to come by the squish.

I scoured the shelves of any Walmart I came across looking for a rare squish, even following stores on social media to know when they would come back in stock.

Yes, it may be a little shameful to admit that is how I spend my time, but I love the soft, squishy plushies. They come equipped with a name and a small description of what their aspirations are, and can become your fluffy best friend.

Although, now I find myself asking, where the hell am I gonna put all these damn Squishmallows? 

This all began when my partner’s mom innocently gifted me Tally the Tabby Cat, one of the original Squishmallows. Within a few months, I was obsessively placing my many squish on my bed every morning.

Maddie Laxer, a fellow squish-enthusiast, had a similar experience. After receiving a squish as a gift from her bestie, she suddenly found herself immersed in the world of round fluffy friends. “It just turned into such a fun thing, trying to find all these little animals.”

After all, the hunt is half the fun.

After finding fame on TikTok, Squishmallows became virtually impossible to find in stores. Not only were me, my cousin, and my cousin’s friend all looking for them, but a slew of resellers appeared out of the woodwork, driving up the price of our round furry friends online and in stores. All of a sudden they were not only hard to find, but they were exclusive.

That’s when things got interesting. It became a real hunt, searching for the cutest companion for the best price (the big squishies retail for $20-25, pretty reasonable in my opinion). “You never know when they’re sort of gonna pop up,” said Maddie.

Although she occasionally went out on hunts herself, Maddie’s mom was the main culprit responsible for her daughter’s Squishmallow collection. “It sort of turned into a fun little, like, activity with me and my mom,” explained Maddie.

Last year, as outings were limited to essentials only, and many of us weren’t able to go out to browse for fun anymore, Maddie’s mom would utilize her weekly trips to Winners to hunt for squish. She would send photos of neatly stacked rows of them to her daughter, asking which one would best suit her collection. “She started going out of her way every time to be at Winners trying to see which ones were there.”

Squishmallows aren’t just useful for cuddling and staying cozy, they also help to build a community, and helped some to stay connected during a long lockdown.

Much of the content posted on social media showed us how friends and family of Squishmallow enthusiasts would get in on the fun of the hunt. Often accompanied by captions such as, my grandpa found me the cutest squish today! or get yourself a boyfriend who hunts squishmallows with you.

In a time where — and I don’t have to remind you of this — the air felt tense, everyone was locked inside and forced to face the realities of a global pandemic, maybe we all needed a furry friend to rely on.

Teddy bears and plushies were a huge part of our childhood. A recent study found that four in 10 Americans still find comfort in their childhood stuffed animals. So it’s not so surprising young adults have taken an interest in this new plushie craze.

In the ‘90s it was Beanie Babies, now it’s Squishmallows.

But, I will reiterate: what the hell am I supposed to do with the mountain of stuffed animals I have in my small Montreal apartment?

I’ve shoved a substantial amount of my collection up on a shelf I can’t reach without the help of a chair. But still, a select few stay on my bed, desk chair, and couch at all times. I find it fun to switch them out depending on my mood. For example, I currently have Dawn the Fawn out, since she’s a winter-themed squish. Fitting for the recent snow, and cold weather.

But there are other solutions if you wish to get rid of them entirely. I’d recommend finding a toy drive to donate to, or even a thrift store with a large toy section. Maybe you have a relative that just had a baby.

Regardless of where the squish ends up, they will always hold a special place in my heart. Not only did they single-handedly throw me back into childhood, but they also represent my biggest financial shame… don’t tell my parents.

 

Photo collage by Catherine Reynolds

Omicron FOMO sweeps the nation

Why are healthy Concordians embarrassed?

At the beginning of the pandemic, whispers about who had COVID were shrouded in a cloud of shame. Those who contracted the virus were blamed for not following the precautions properly and not behaving the way an upstanding citizen should.

Now two years later, with the emergence of the highly contagious Omicron variant, the cloud of shame seems to rain on those who have a sickness that’s even worse — Omicron FOMO (fear of missing out).

“In March 2020, it was only the reckless, cool kids getting it,” said a COVID-less Concordia student who wished to stay anonymous out of embarrassment. “But now, it’s everyone. Even my dentist has had it. At this point, my mom is seriously worried about my social life.”

The student explained that her mother has had all three variants, all secured from three separate trips to Florida, and is pushing her offspring to run rampant and maskless through the swamplands to finally catch the damn virus. The student is considering this option, but has also heard that licking every metro pole on the Green Line proves more cost-effective on a student budget.

This is not a single-case phenomenon; another Concordian, who also requested anonymity — citing fear of not seeming cool enough to get a job in accounting — noted that they feel like they’re missing a part of history by still not having caught COVID.

“Honestly, what I think about is what I’m going to tell my hypothetical kids,” he said, sniffling (with concern, not COVID). “When they ask me what it was like to have the virus, I’ll be the lame dad who won’t be able to tell them. They’ll probably put themselves up for adoption.”

He was also concerned about not knowing how to converse with peers. “All everyone talks about these days is COVID. How can I relate to everyone if I haven’t had it?”

He explained that he’s tried everything to catch the virus, including living in his COVID-positive friend’s closet during her isolation period. Alas, his PCRs have all come up negative. “It feels like I’m a hopeful mother waiting for a positive pregnancy test.”

Quarantina Jab, a Concordian who explicitly demanded to be named, is part of the minority who is still avoiding Omicron. Jab said that she does not want to get sick for the sole reason of fulfilling her dream of holding the world record for not getting COVID for the longest amount of time. “I’ve actually been living in isolation since I was born. I hopped out of the womb and got my own apartment, where I’ve been living ever since,” she said.

Jab seems to be the only person who shares this sentiment according to a survey conducted on the now-obsolete MyConcordia portal.

Still, those who have yet to catch Omicron need not fear. With humanity’s luck, there will be another, even more contagious variant in approximately three months to sweep you off your feet and cure your FOMO.

 

Graphics by James Fay

Categories
Concordia Student Union News

Concordia rejects pass/fail option

While rejected by Concordia’s Senate, the CSU plans on continuing to advocate for pass/fail option

The Concordia Student Union (CSU) is continuing to push for the return of a pass/fail option this semester, despite their requests being denied in the Concordia University Senate. 

Concordia University spokesperson, Vannina Maestracci, shared in a statement to The Concordian that “Pass/fail was an exceptional measure taken at the height of the pandemic when all courses had to be remote.”

In the fall 2020 and winter 2021 semesters, Concordia University implemented the option for students to choose to pass or fail one course instead of receiving a grade. These pass/fail marks did not affect students’ overall GPAs, but the pass/fail option was rescinded in the fall 2021 semester as the COVID-19 situation lessened. 

According to a CSU survey in October, over 78 per cent of students found the pass/fail option was helpful, and over 79 per cent of students said they wanted Concordia to reinstate it for the coming semesters. 

“The pass/fail option was amazing and super helpful. It also eased my worries. But I am very disappointed that they got rid of the pass or fail system now that we’re back in person,” commented a student on the anonymous survey.

In December, the CSU held a joint presentation with Concordia administration, where both the CSU and Concordia administration took turns voicing their opinions of the pass/fail option. Afterwards a vote was held, where the students who voted in favour of pass/fail were outvoted by the administration. 

“The big concern for us is that with the introduction of pass fail, even if it’s only for one course, we can’t catch the annual GPA for any student,” said Anne Whitelaw, the Provost and vice-president academic at Concordia University.

Whitelaw explained that the annual GPA is used to identify students who are struggling, specifically those in failing standing. When a student is in failing standing, an email is automatically sent to them, explaining they need to take courses at the Student Success Centre which are meant to help them improve academically. 

Before the pandemic, according to Whitelaw, approximately 500 students were taking these courses, but with online school and the introduction of pass/fail, that number dropped to 80. This is because with pass/fail, the university was unable to calculate the annual GPA, meaning the automatic system is unable to tell which students are in failing standing.

“It would take years of programming because for every student, it’s going to be a different course,” said Whitelaw, who explained that the current capabilities of the software used to calculate the annual GPA of each student would not work as intended with the pass/fail option, meaning these calculations would have to be done manually for each student. “We’re looking at calculating it for over 40,000 students.” 

“If you look at your transcript, you might not have any GPA on your transcript right now, because we haven’t been able to calculate it for two years,” said Whitelaw.

Eduardo Malorni, the CSU’s general coordinator said “We pushed it as far as we could, but, faculty, staff, and administration voted against it. Which makes it pretty clear, they just didn’t care about the student’s opinion.” 

Malorni believes that the university should have other ways to tell if students are struggling, besides the annual GPA — such as having professors identify students who are failing, or have students self-disclose they need academic help. 

“The compromise we reached was that [Concordia] would offer a late DISC to students,” said Malorni. “So that instead of students failing their class, if they knew they were under too much stress, especially during final exams […] they could choose to get out without a refund.” 

DISC means that a student drops the course with no impact on their GPA, but they must still pay for the course. It is usually two-thirds into the semester. DNE is the last day students are able to drop a class with a refund, and is usually two weeks after the semester starts.

The DISC deadline has been extended to April 18. Malorni explained that the CSU also pushed for an extension on the DNE date, so students would have their tuition reimbursed, but the university refused. 

Malorni said that while they were not able to get the pass/fail option for students, the extension of the DISC is still an improvement, as last semester the university extended the DISC date, and between Nov. 9 and Dec. 7 over 2,600 students used the extended DISC.

 

Graphic by James Fay

Categories
Student Life

Omicron — COVID’s dreaded fifth wave

Four students reflect on how they experienced the Omicron breakout from home

By: Juliette Palin, commentary editor; Evan Lindsay, news editor; Talia Kliot, assistant commentary editor; Amanda Defillo, contributor

 

Juliette’s version 

The day I left for Budapest, mandatory PCR testing was just being re-implemented for travellers on any Air Canada flight. No snow had managed to stick to the ground longer than 72 hours, and Omicron was just starting to bear its gruesome teeth. Once we got to Budapest, and the jetlag started to wear off, my sister and I got wind of the chaotic state Montreal was in: no available rapid tests, serpentine lines outside testing centers, and the familiar sight of cases rising, with one main difference. Never before had we seen such high case numbers in Quebec. One day it was five thousand… then twelve thousand… eighteen thousand…

My sister and I watched in terror from Budapest, where the fourth wave of Delta was dying out and Omicron was a looming threat. We went to the scenic city to visit our parents but had we known how fast the situation would deteriorate, I don’t believe we would have gone.

While we saw every Quebecer and Canadian become confined to lockdowns, and spending holidays alone — my own family catching COVID, and being unable to reunite for the holidays — our situation was different. We had no problem getting tested (which we did a total of five times) and everyone around us had already acquired a booster shot. Our only real issue was explaining why our vaccine passports wouldn’t scan, since they were not registered in any European database.

In Hungary, people were unbothered, lazy with their masks, aloof to what was happening all over the world, or even just a day’s drive away in France or Austria. Needless to say, it was difficult to face two alternate realities every day: that of the fifth wave back home, and an eerie sense that I was looking at the past — a city full of people still enjoying the normality of unregulated life.

 

Talia’s version

The Omicron outbreak in Montreal was frustrating. I was lucky enough to spend it skiing, reading, watching movies, and going for walks with my family. While we were safe and healthy, it was annoying to see that even with COVID case numbers spiralling out of control, hours-long testing lines in the cold, and rapid test shortages, restrictions to help relieve healthcare professionals were only put in place after Christmas. But of course, Quebec is a secular province, duh.

When the government brought back our beloved curfew and shut down restaurant dining rooms, it was right before New Year’s Eve. Many restaurants had already ordered all their food, not only creating waste but causing many to lose much-needed income.

On one hand, I’m sick of all the restrictions and want to live my life again. I missed a Taylor Swift dance party because of this stupid outbreak! But, I know that we need to offer some relief to the healthcare system, which is crumbling as many workers get sick and are unable to come in. It also feels like everyone I know has or has had COVID, so I guess it’s just a matter of time before it comes for me. Wish me luck…

 

Evan’s version

The longer that this pandemic drags on the more I wish that I could say it was somewhat exciting. To think that 40 years from now someone might ask me what it was like to live through a global health emergency… I wish that I would have some more dramatic stories to tell them. Unfortunately, the reality is that this holiday season was spent much like the last, trapped in my house with my family.

I’m grateful to have the opportunity to spend time with my family in Victoria. But if it wasn’t the spike in BC COVID cases keeping me inside, it was the snow. People from Victoria tend to refer to the southern part Vancouver Island as the “tropics of Canada,” which is to say that snow is rare — and when it happens, insignificant. Instead of blizzards, we get massive amounts of rain. This year the snow was neither rare nor insignificant.

Unable to drive due to the snow and a lack of winter tires, I wasn’t able to escape my family home as much as I may have liked. Again, this did yield some positive results: being unable to leave meant more quality time with my family, and kept me from rubbing elbows with potentially COVID-riddled Victorians.

My home is typically very busy during the holidays with out-of-town relatives coming in and constant baking, cooking and the occasional extra glass or three of wine. Despite the pandemic, many of these holiday traditions remained intact. On both sides of the family, my grandparents were unable to travel back to Canada from their vacation homes in the states. My dad’s parents stayed in Palm Springs and my mom’s dad from Seattle stayed in Arizona. More wine for the immediate family I guess?

Restaurants, bars and movie theatres in BC stayed open if you had a vaccine passport, but gyms closed (a popular topic of debate and internet outrage among many of my friends). I was able to take advantage of all our open amenities without much trouble, other than a few people scowling at me for showing a Quebec vaccine passport, and a small argument with my dad about whether it was safe to see Spider-Man: No Way Home (either way, it was worth it. Great movie).

Despite spiking cases in BC, most of my attention and anxiety was directed towards Montreal, knowing in just a few weeks, I would be back in time for a second curfew and record-breaking case numbers.

 

Amanda’s version

When the news about Omicron broke, I remember lying in my bed and receiving a call from my mom. At the time, she was overtaken with panic. She went on and on about how I needed to get back home immediately and told me I should start packing.

I’m from the Dominican Republic, studying as an international student in Canada. I just remember feeling scared that I, along with everyone else in Montreal, would have to go back into lockdown, unable to go back to university for an undetermined amount of time… Once again, I felt as if my life was being uprooted and it’s just not a fun experience.

Probably not even three days later, maybe even sooner, my parents had already bought me a ticket to go back home at the end of that week. Sitting on the plane, I thought to myself, “this can’t be happening, again?”

When I finally got back home things were okay for a while. A little bit better than Montreal, where everything was going to hell, but it didn’t take long for things to quickly go downhill here too. COVID’s fifth wave in DR coincided with an outbreak of influenza. People were getting sick left and right especially during the holidays, with rumours of full hospitals crowding every conversation. Things eventually started to calm down but still, a lot of people around me were getting sick either with COVID or with influenza. It just all felt very intense.

 

Visuals by Cathrine Reynolds

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Features

The Woodnote Solidarity Cooperative — a year and a half into the project

After management woes and pandemic slowdowns, The Woodnote is beginning to take shape

After opening in 2020, The Woodnote Solidarity Cooperative has faced many challenges. The pandemic, a rotating door of board members, and a lack of training and guiding policy have made things difficult. However, as the pandemic slows down, along with a new student board elected on Oct. 17 and president elected on Nov. 5, things are beginning to change.

Sylvia Pascua-Matte joined The Woodnote’s co-op board in October 2020 and is the only remaining resident board member from that time, despite board members being elected for two year terms. She is now president of The Woodnote’s Solidarity cooperative’s board.

“I think that the [current] board has a lot of potential. I think that the board [members] are very confident people, and I love their work ethic and I love the project. But the project in itself is riddled with errors,” said Pascua-Matte.

The housing project is the first of its kind, intending to give students access to affordable, not-for-profit housing. Instead of just the usual landlord-tenant model, The Woodnote is a solidarity co-op, meaning it also has a board made of primarily volunteer tenants who help to manage community living within the building. The board consists of six seats for tenants and three for support members — one from UTILE, the other from the CSU and one representative from the Montreal community.

The three main groups who helped bring The Woodnote to life are UTILE, the not-for-profit housing company that designed, developed and owns the building; the CSU, who were the initial investors in the project, fronting almost two million dollars for its development; and the co-op’s board.

Before The Woodnote opened in summer 2020 a provisional committee of students was created to guide the developmental phase of the project, before passing things onto the board.

The co-op struggled in their first year due to an overwhelming lack of training, and balancing administrative tasks they felt unprepared for, like finding insurance for the building’s common room and creating the co-ops governing policy, while trying to foster a community.

“Nobody in the past provisional committee had even thought about [training]. There wasn’t proper onboarding, because everybody who was on the provisional board [left] and didn’t look back,” said Pascua-Matte.

One reason for the lack of support was that neither the CSU nor UTILE deemed it their responsibility to be involved in the student governance of The Woodnote. However, both groups hold support seats on their board.

“We don’t have any legal obligations to The Woodnote. There’s nothing on paper that ties us to The Woodnote other than this support member seat,” said CSU general coordinator Eduardo Malorni.

“The plan was never for the CSU to be the landlord of this building. The plan was never for the CSU to manage this building. The plan was never for the CSU to be involved in the day to day operations of the board. The plan for the CSU was always to be the initial investor, to allow this building to come to existence, and for the students within the building to really play the main role in managing their own building.”

A sentiment which UTILE executive director and co-founder, Laurent Levesque also shared.

“We handle our management partnership in all of the building operations. So all of the maintenance, rent collection, all of the baseline work to make sure people are safe and the building is well maintained is handled by our team of professionals,” explained Levesque.

“And then there’s the community living layer on top of that, which is handled by the co-op, which is led by students. And in that layer, we only play a support role.”

But it wasn’t just community living that the board was left to deal with.

Stephen Beker has been involved with the project since July 2019. He was a member of the provisional committee put in place prior to The Woodnote’s opening and is the former president of the board. He claims that the provisional committee put in place didn’t do enough to set the board up for success.

“We had meetings every week, and we tried to solve problems we weren’t equipped to solve. And we were tasked with making policy.” Beker said. “The problem is that the committee had no expertise.” Today, much of The Woodnote’s policy regarding finances, labour agreements, anti-opression, sexual assault and misconduct remain unfinished.

“The problem was that when people moved into The Woodnote, the building blocks were not built. As we speak today, the building blocks are still not built,” said Beker. “I would spend hours and hours on the phone, doing the most simple things like trying to get us a bank account.”

These issues have made it difficult for The Woodnote to cultivate its co-op identity, and students have noticed. Dylan Gitalis has been a resident at The Woodnote since it opened in 2020. He says his experience has been “very positive.” But, there are things he thinks it could do better.

“There’s definitely a good strong community here.” Gitalis said. “But it doesn’t really feel like a co-op, it feels like UTILE kind of owns it. It doesn’t feel like we have ownership over the building […] But, we’re still all people here so there is so much in our control in terms of the social dynamics and the culture.”

A Woodnote resident, Dylan Gitalis shares his experiences living in the co-op. CATHERINE REYNOLDS/The Concordian

Even though the board is supposed to represent students living in the building, when residents have issues related to the building or their apartment unit they have to take them to the property manager employed by UTILE. This limits the board’s ability to represent students on these issues. Julia Belmore is a former woodnote resident who found it difficult to get help when she had problems with her apartment.

“Every time we brought up an issue, it kind of felt like it became our fault —  like my fridge broke, and I wasn’t there and then all of a sudden, they were saying that we’re gonna have to pay for repairs. My apartment had no fridge for like a month in total.” Belmore said.

“But, if anything happened, it was on you to deal with.”

When applying to live at The Woodnote, students are asked what they can bring to the co-op . But, the pandemic and a lack of consistent access to their common room made planning these events difficult.

“Everybody has something they can bring, but nobody’s really doing it now unless you’re on the board and go through all these hoops,” said Gitalis.

“We can all run events that we’re talented at in the common room: someone can run yoga, we can all paint together. We can all do a jam session, and we can paint the stairwells, you know, and make our mark on it. […] That stuff to me means that this is our space, our cooperative. Right now it’s not.” Gitalis continued.

“We want to be a community together.”

Instability on the board also made running these events difficult. There was a very high-rate of turnover with board members consistently stepping down. Pascua-Matte was the only resident board member to return when the five new resident members were elected on Oct. 17. Former president Stephen Beker, who stepped down in October, had concerns that without stability and the removal of a great deal of institutional knowledge under a brand new board the co-op could fold. Something that neither UTILE nor the CSU have been worried about.

“The board is pretty much immune to folding.” Malorni stated. “Let’s say everyone left, every member of the board all decided not to show up. Someone could have gone to The Woodnote and been like ‘Hey, officially the paperwork [still says] that we’re a solidarity co-op. Can we organize a meeting and appoint a new board?’ An entire failure of the board will just result in one year of [a bad] experience, and then someone would restart the board and they would start fresh again,” Malorni stated. Levesque also shares this perspective.

“That’s the beauty of the model. If [the co-op folds] or decides to go dormant or dissolve by its own decision, it doesn’t have any impact on the building continuing its operations. The achievement of the goal of affordable housing is not directly tied to high-level student involvement.”

However, the co-op model is a big part of what makes the building unique, and it’s not something Pascua-Matte wants to see fail.

“To have them say if the board were to fail [it would be fine], that shouldn’t be in the realm of possibility. You’ve poured a [lot] of money into a project. That doesn’t mean you give it the option to fail. If you’re giving it the option to fail, then obviously it’s gonna fail.”

But UTILE said they are holding up their end of the bargain, and in many ways, The Woodnote has achieved many of its goals.

“Woodnote is a resounding success. I mean, they have newly constructed units at a very good price in a very good location and that’s the bottom line.” said Levesque.

“One of the things that The Woodnote does that deserves to be mentioned is the fundamental aspect of not trying to profit off of students,” said Levesque.

“Rents in the project increased by 1.5 per cent to follow inflation; but, rents on the plateau increased by 5 per cent, that non-profit approach to housing is important to make work in the short term. But, [it] has really important impacts in the long term, in ensuring affordable housing for future generations.”

The Woodnote Co-op in the Plateau Mont-Royal. CATHERINE REYNOLDS/The Concordian

To help get the co-op back on track after a rough first year, Malorni said the CSU is giving The Woodnote more attention by bringing in more experienced support members to give input on training and managing the board.

“​​I’m calling up people with board experience, who actually work in these sort of organizations to find someone willing to take up extra volunteer tasks of helping these people,” said Malorni. “I’ve been ensuring that pieces are joining the board which will ensure its success.”

“I’m playing a much more communicative role, which isn’t necessarily the role of the CSU to try and stabilize this board. We’re making sure that they do have the tools to succeed.”

While the CSU is trying to put more effort into supporting The Woodnote, Pascua-Matte still doesn’t feel she is seeing it enough and still feels the co-op’s concerns are being neglected and ignored.

“We would like to be properly supported and represented and what [they’re] doing right now is not representative of that.”

But as the pandemic eases, The board has finally been able to begin doing the community building it set out to do all along, the board is encouraging students to get involved and they’re responding by starting clubs and running events.

“We’re starting to work with different organizations that reflect what we want at The Woodnote. We are hoping to get some compost soon, […] we’re getting workshops done, like mandatory ones regarding anti-oppression and sexual violence.”

Now, with a new board of enthusiastic members some more training and hard work the student-run community can begin to take shape.

“People are seeing that the board is functioning, and we’re here and we’re supposed to represent you and they’re participating more and that’s what we want: participation,” said Pascua-Matte.

Pascua-Matte thinks The Woodnotes goals as a co-op are worth fighting for, and now with a more stable board they can begin to create a positive change and live up to the original promise of a student managed cooperative.

“Although there’s a lot of turmoil. I think that we can still follow the mandate that was originally given to us,” said Pascua-Matte. “I think the people on this board are willing to work for it.”

 

Feature graphic by James Fay and Catherine Reynolds

Categories
Features

Why banking sucks here

Why does Quebec make us choose a bank based on which one sucks the least?

Upon meeting a new friend, one might be asked their astrology sign, how many siblings they have, or what they do for a living. It helps us get a sense of who a person is. What might be most telling, for Quebecers, is to ask which bank they use.

The Big Five make up most of the Canadian market share, so chances are, your new friend banks with one of the following: Royal Bank of Canada (RBC), Toronto-Dominion Bank (TD), Scotiabank, Bank of Montreal (BMO), or Canadian Imperial Bank of Commerce (CIBC).

Thanks to extensive mergers over the past few decades, these banks have become about as big as government institutions themselves. An international banking regulator called the Financial Stability Board determines which banks are global systemically important banks (referred to as G-SIBs, and domestically as D-SIBs). As of 2020, TD and RBC are still on that list, which also includes U.S. banks such as JPMorgan Chase and Goldman Sachs.

Lists like these are based on an economic theory that some banks become “too big to fail” (TBTF), when so much of the population relies on them to remain stable. G-SIBs and other banks the government decides, whether explicitly or implicitly, are TBTF, are regulated to “maintain additional capital buffers” and “discourage banks from becoming even more systemically important,” according to the Bank for International Settlements (BIS). They are also high-profile enough that in an economic recession, or even a forecast of a recession, the government becomes pressured to become their guarantor.

Mo’ Money, Mo’ Problems

Logically, it seems like if a big bank has so much money, it would be the safest place to be during a recession. Sometimes that’s true. The fact that our banks are so large and diversified made them some of the most stable banks in the world, as ranked by Global Finance Magazine in their annual stability report. But sometimes it makes it riskier.

Once big banks get TBTF status, they have virtually unlimited protection from the government. Given they are still businesses trying to make as much money as possible, they are prone to make riskier moves, leading to higher likelihood of more government bailouts.

Don’t like the fact that your tax dollars would be bailing out a company that rakes in a couple billion dollars each quarter? Maybe you do. It’s partially what makes our banks so stable.

Others can’t get down with it. Given the fact that our banks are very stable, most Canadians believe they aren’t in need of government assistance. Many journalistic efforts have been published, including pieces by the Financial Post and the Canadian Centre for Policy Alternatives. Most of these pieces are merely estimations based on public funding, such as pension funds and individual welfare checks. Some have even cited CERB as an implicit government subsidy for people’s pandemic-related bank struggles.

Employee-led research from the Bank of Canada arguing against TBTF cites that along with increased market power, gaining TBTF status was the driving force behind major bank mergers and the formation of the oligopoly we know and love today. While at the G-SIB level, they are subject to global regulations putting caps on profits, they are more likely to receive implicit support when the economy struggles.

Like any good government organization, our big banks have their flaws. You might wait forever, or be helped pretty unhelpfully. You might wonder why your bank doesn’t give a hoot that you’re funding their business with literally all the money you have.

Bank mergers are a major reason why we pay way more for our banking privileges, compared to the United States. Down south, you can almost universally expect to bank for free, and earn a decent interest on your savings account. That’s due to their more fragmented system, which creates more competition between large and small banks, leading to lower rates. Our Big Five are the result of major mergers of medium-sized banks seeking more market power. They now dominate the Canadian market and charge us the fees to match.

Another downside to the oligopoly is that no matter what, money in your bank account is funding a company that can put money in whatever they choose, regardless of their clients’ politics. As CBC reported earlier this year, RBC is among the top five banks worldwide involved in fossil fuel financing, with over $160 billion lended out between 2016 and 2020. Reasons for not pulling out, if any, would be fear of disrupting the Canadian economy, which is heavily reliant on the fossil fuel industry, according to CBC.

As of November 2021, all Big Five will sign onto a new international agreement, the Glasgow Financial Alliance for Net Zero (GFANZ), according to CBC. While the goals of this new agreement include prioritization of “green” investments and lowering emissions of bank clients, signatories of the plan need not to withdraw from ongoing funding projects in the fossil fuel sector. Climate activists have warned the public not to start celebrating until those withdrawals are made.

Finding My Bank Soulmate

Ever tried joining a new bank in Quebec? Maybe you’ve just been with the same one since you were 14, like I had. When I first moved to Canada four years ago, I just went to the one that was closest to me. After three years, I started noticing how much I detested it. Some people do all their banking online, but I’m more high-maintenance than that.

My bank never answered the phone, and when they did they would respond with long scripted responses. At the branch, they looked at me with disgust when I approached their counter, they held my checks for days on end. I didn’t feel wanted.

Since my broke beginnings while growing up in the States, I’ve held an account at a credit union, not a bank. If you’re a true Quebecer, you’ll know it as the “caisse-populaire,” associated with the Desjardins group. Credit union, caisse-populaire, potato, potate. Same thing? You could say so. I’ll share my American experience first.

Close your eyes. Imagine a world just like your own. Maybe a tad warmer. Imagine you call your bank and they pick up right away. Imagine they speak with you like a friend: They ask you about your day, and give you all the platonic intimacy you deserve. Imagine you hang up the phone feeling satisfied and reassured that your request has been diligently honoured.

Imagine your account is free, no matter how much is in it, and when you walk into a branch, at least three individuals await you with a smile, and even if they have filing to be done, you, a member, are their top priority. Open your eyes: that’s what a credit union feels like.

Upon making the decision to leave TD after three years — a bank I highly do not recommend — I looked endlessly for another bank with this level of devotion. Unfortunately, I don’t think it exists in Canada just yet.

When inquiring on what bank is best to turn to, most reddit users recommended Tangerine, one of the only online banks available in Quebec. Formerly known as ING Direct, it has since been acquired by Scotiabank, but still operates as a separate company. Due to the lack of in-person branches, it’s free for everyone, and has some of the best rates for high-interest savings accounts. It seemed like my only option. At the same time, if I did turn to Tangerine, I’d be going from unpleasant, in-person branch visits, to no branch visits at all. Is that what I really wanted?

I quickly realized that what I was looking for was not a bank, but a credit union, just like I had back home. The peak difference between a bank and a credit union is that a bank is for-profit, and a credit union is not-for-profit.

A credit union is like your local co-op grocery store. As a member, you are part owner and participant in the union, in turn taking advantage of low rates and high quality service. A bank is a business set out to make profit and satisfy shareholders —  the reason for usually much higher rates.

Did you ever notice that while a credit union has more of a “you’re one of us” attitude, a bank has more of a “you need us, we don’t need you” attitude? Maybe not. That’s because unlike every other Canadian province, in Quebec, Desjardins is basically just another one of the Big Five. Actually, if you considered it a bank, it would knock CIBC right out of the Big Five club.

Caisses Un-Populaires

Time for the tea you all came for. Let’s talk about credit unions in Quebec: a concept that has a history tied to the very beginning of credit unions in North America.

Desjardins is our one and only caisse-populaire in Quebec, founded in 1901 by a Mr. Alphonse Desjardins as the first credit union in North America. Just seven years later, Desjardins and a group of French-speaking immigrants opened the very first credit union in the United States, which is now home to well over 5,000 of them, as of 2021.

So why is Quebec left with only one? And why does Desjardins play along like they’re just another one of the Big Five?

If you search the term “caisse-populaire” in Wikipedia, you’d be redirected to the Desjardins Group, made up of numerous investment firms, real estate holdings, and brokerages. It’s also the proud owner of many Canadian expansions of U.S. insurance giants such as State Farm (since rebranded to Desjardins Insurance). Does any of that remind you of your friendly neighbourhood gardening collective?

During my search for a new financial soulmate, I actually found exactly what I was looking for. It was a credit union (duh), whom I called and was immediately connected to a friendly customer service woman. The conversation was refreshingly friendly and easy, like talking to an old friend. I felt strongly that this union was the place for me: a perfect match. The representative then explained that membership was not available in Quebec, due to some regulations. She encouraged me to call back in a year, though, to see if the law had changed. A law that possibly hadn’t changed since 1901?

Since I couldn’t find any answer for this online, or an alternative credit union in our province, I nearly gave up. Every article I found was talking about how cool and hip Desjardins was, so I decided to check it out for myself. Maybe I would make this my bank after all.

When I got there, I felt like I was back at TD. The computer was so slow, and after 5 minutes of dial-up style loading speed, I was told I couldn’t get an appointment for another four hours (even though I was the only one there). I knew there was an advisor upstairs holding her breath, because I heard her sneeze right before leaving.

I went back to my trusty sidekick, Google. I suddenly found myself reading words like “…the authority shall establish…” on the Quebec government’s open source website, and discovered nothing further.

It Really is Quebec’s Fault

I spoke with Professor Moshe Lander, a senior lecturer in the Economics Department at Concordia, who has at least 20 years of experience teaching on the subject.

As I quickly discovered, one thing Google can’t explain is the vast, black hole that is the relationship between Quebec’s history and its modern economic regulations. It might be something that goes right over the heads of Quebecers who have never lived anywhere else, and only be a problem for those of us who have migrated from other provinces or countries.

When we ask questions like, “We’re a part of Canada, so why don’t we get what everyone else has?” the answer almost always has something to do with our provincial government.

You see, the Big Five aren’t affected by Quebec laws. Banks are regulated by the federal government. Credit unions, on the other hand, are regulated provincially.

My first assumption was that there was a distinct law mentioning Desjardins as the only credit union allowed to operate in Quebec. In fact, the situation is purely circumstantial.

According to Professor Lander, after 120 years of operation, Desjardins has a monopoly over our province, making it hard for outsider credit unions to gain traction here. “It’s not worth it [for them],” he said.”Tack on all of the language requirements, the different legal system […] getting your foot into Quebec is almost impossible.”

It seems that the province’s unique legal system is what keeps a lot of that cool stuff out. “Just take a look at fast food restaurants,” Lander began. “Swiss Chalet doesn’t exist here. St. Hubert exists here, because the legal system is different. So, in terms of product liability, consumer protection, disclosure requirements… For a privately-held company it’s different.”

Professor Lander said these provincial differences also extend to the banking and financial sector. Credit unions such as Vancity in British Columbia, and motusbank in Ontario, can operate in any other Canadian province, since their legal and regulatory systems are similar, but not in Quebec.

One other reason that this problem might be specific to credit unions is the very fact that they are only as big as their clientbase. Lander said that both the non-Quebec credit unions and Desjardins would not seek to maximize their client-base all across Canada for the same reason. “Because [credit unions] are not a private company that’s looking to maximize shareholder value, [they] are ultimately owned by [their] customers,” he explained.

So, when the operator from the Ontarian credit union I spoke with before said, “if something changes in a year, call us back,” she probably wasn’t talking about a change in Quebec regulations. Most likely, she was talking about a change within their company that would drive them to begin doing business here.

Furthermore, it doesn’t help that Quebec is pretty much a ghost town compared to the United States. Our population is just a fraction of the size. That’s probably why Desjardins doesn’t offer the hottest rates or the hottest service ⏤ with their member numbers being just as low as a mid-size niche credit union in the United States, they can’t afford to offer Quebecers a better rate than any of the Big Five.

As for the lack of choices to overall banking methods in Canada, it’s actually a federal problem. Professor Lander attributes this to both population size and lack of regulations over mergers between banks, unlike the U.S. which regulates inter-state transactions. As for Canada, “Through mergers, [big banks] basically came to swallow up everybody underneath them, and left nothing behind. That sort of concentration hasn’t taken place in the U.S.,” he said.

“Even if you take the biggest banks in the U.S., [such as] Bank of America, they don’t add up to 95 per cent of the deposits or mortgages and loans. It’s a much more fragmented system,” he said. That also explains why Desjardins became a monopoly across the province, which was once home to many small, local credit unions.

As it turns out, you can assume that it’s all loosely attributed to the war between the French and the English that took place 350 years ago. That’s what makes us special. As Professor Lander noted, “It drives a huge amount of product law and business law and these oddities that just don’t exist elsewhere in North America.”

It seems things won’t change until the nicer credit unions take a leap of faith across provincial borders, or our government does a major ego-check. For now, we’ll have to choose between the bank that sucks the least, or keeping the cash under the mattress.

 

 

Visuals by Lily Cowper

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Parlez-vous français? Concordia students reflect on the potential outcomes of Bill 96

How Bill 96 is sparking a fiery debate in the city of Montreal

The November municipal elections are fast approaching and, more than ever, young people are motivated to vote in response to the effects of life during the pandemic. After a year stuck indoors, forced to take classes online, worried about future employment prospects, Montreal’s younger demographic is also now faced with a choice: do they stay or do they go?

Bill 96 is a reform proposed by the Quebec government in which the Canadian Constitution will recognize the province as a nation, with French as its official language. The reform is expected to include over 200 amendments, equipped with the primary goal of strengthening the status of the French language in Quebec.

Roxanne Tesar, a 22-year-old biochemistry student at Concordia, was born and raised in Montreal. She said that her knowledge of French remains limited, making her part of the population who will be most affected by the bill, if it comes to fruition. “French is not the only language here, we are bilingual. So if we start introducing bills that don’t reflect the population’s interests, conflict will arise,” said Tesar.

In Montreal, just over 65 per cent of the population’s mother tongue is French. So, why is this bill so pressing, given that French is the dominant language?

According to a 2019 study made by the Office québécois de la langue française (OQLF), workplace usage of the French language has dropped from 60 to 56 per cent since 2015. Workers aged 18 to 34 were those most prominently reflected in this data.

“It’s all about respect […] by creating this bill, the French language will be validated and francophones will feel heard,” says Sruthi Matta, 26, a journalism student at Concordia from India.

Omar Kanjou Agha, a 20-year-old mechanical engineering student from Syria, thinks some parts of the bill are positive, such as the offer of financial aid for studying the French language. He still thinks there are downsides.

“Capping the amount of places in anglophone schools completely violates fundamental rights and freedoms that Quebecers enjoy,” he said. “The bill wants to protect the French language, but they are doing it in ways that I don’t support and that I feel are illegal.”

These feelings of injustice are shared by several Concordia students. Kailee Reid, 18, a liberal arts student at Concordia, remembers the anxiety she felt during her first weeks in Montreal, after moving from Toronto. “When I first came here, I was so nervous to check out at a store,” she said. “I didn’t know how to manoeuvre around the city, not knowing who speaks English and who speaks French. It was quite isolating.”

Despite apprehensions and fears of not being understood or excluded from the city, Montreal still welcomes thousands of international students every year. Nearly 35,000 foreign students studied in the city in 2015.

“My first impression of Montreal was that it was very welcoming and diverse, so when I heard about this law I became very worried,” said Olenka Yuen, a 21-year-old computational arts student at Concordia, when asked about her thoughts on the city.

Agha also shared Yuen’s concerns. “I see Montreal as a multiethnic diverse city and this bill is trying to eliminate these components,” he said. “This worries me because I am part of the minority.”

International students, many of whom fall into the minority of non-french speakers, now face uncertainty in the job market after completing their studies in university. If Bill 96 becomes official, many employers would be faced with tougher hiring policies and many students who do not have a proficient level of French would be excluded. The Bill would implement a limit on the number of places at English schools and a limit on the amount of English-speaking jobs, making life for the non-french-speaking minority harder than it already is.

“I’ve been worried about jobs before this bill was even introduced,” said Tesar.

Saddened by the possibility of being excluded from Montreal life due to her limited French-speaking abilities, Tesar feels that she has no choice but to consider other living options. “This is a good reason for me to move to another province because it’s unfair.”

“I am worried as an anglophone about finding a job as I have in the past and this bill would only make it harder,” said Agha. He has worked part-time as a delivery driver, because he says that it’s one of the only jobs that does not require employees to speak French.

However, it isn’t just the non-francophone speakers who recognize the constraints Bill 96 would create for Montrealers. Delphine Belzile, a 23-year-old francophone journalism student at Concordia, acknowledges the fear that the bill has instilled in young non-francophones living in city.

“I don’t worry about my prospects of jobs, but I worry for other people who are non-francophone because I’m worried about how the government will handle the transition if the bill comes into effect,” said Belzile.

“You can’t ask a whole population to suddenly speak French,” she continued. “You need to account for a plan and make the language free and accessible to learn for all, or else you’re discriminating against non-French speakers.”

Another francophone student at Concordia from Montreal, Véronique Morin, 23, appreciates that she’s been able to attend an English-speaking university in a predominantly French-speaking city. “I am grateful to be able to study in English because for me, it has broadened my perspectives and allowed me to become more diversified,” she said. “But French is more threatened in Montreal than in Quebec.”

Morin further explained that when interacting in shops, she’s more likely to speak English than French to guarantee she is understood.

“As a francophone, we need to protect the French language and make it a real official language with laws that encourage people to speak and share it,” said Morin. “[But if] someone is working to get to know the language or making the effort to learn it, for me, that’s enough.”

Many non-French-speaking Concordia students do not refute the notion of French being a language in need of protection. In fact, several students said they celebrate the uniqueness of having this language in Quebec.

“The French language is Quebec’s identity,” said Agha. “It makes the province a distinct society compared to the rest of North America.” In a similar vein, Matta also agreed that “French should be cherished and made equally important in Quebec.”

The importance of the French language is a feeling shared by many politicians running in the municipal elections. However, not all of them agree with the many components that this bill would instate. Joe Ortona, who is a chair of the English Montreal School board and running as an independent city councillor in the Loyola district, shares this sentiment. A previous member of Denis Coderre’s Ensemble Montréal, he was ousted from the party after taking a stance against Bill 96.

Ortona received an overwhelming amount of support after his exit from the Loyola district and throughout Quebec.

“I felt that ultimately I was chosen because I am a defender of anglophone rights and English institutions,” said Ortona. “The banner may have changed, but my values haven’t.”

However, Ortona was quick to mention that although his stance is against Bill 96 and the many problems he sees with it, he is not against the French language. “I recognize that the French language is important in Quebec, and it’s worthy of being protected,” he said. “My issue is that Bill 96 is tackling a problem with inappropriate solutions,” he emphasized.

When pressed on what he means by “inappropriate solutions,” he replied, “To suspend one’s civil liberties in order to allow for this law to give government agents broad powers that can allow them to come into a place of business unannounced and confiscate computers without a warrant. All on the basis of an anonymous tip that states that an employee is communicating in English.”

Ortona argues that Bill 96 is actually aimed at the English language and English Quebecers in particular. While the idea that English-speaking Quebecers are those who have failed to adopt Quebec customs is a popular perception held by some, he argues that “they are actually the most bilingual people in Canada who not only recognize the French language as important but adopt it as a second or third language to their own.”

“We don’t reject French at all, we embrace it,” said Ortona. “We see bilingualism as an asset, an advantage. If this bill does come into effect, then the message you’re sending is that anyone who doesn’t speak French is not welcome here; whether they realize it or not, that’s the message it’s sending.”

Overseas students are already flagging the potential effects of Bill 96.

“Getting into the country is already hard enough as an international student, with the CAQ [Certificat d’acceptation du Québec] and study permit I can’t imagine how much more difficult it will be if the bill is passed,” shared Matta, who recalls the gruelling admission process for her studies when applying from India.

Tesar believes the bill will negatively impact those students who might have stayed in Canada, contributing to its economy. “I don’t think the young people of today will easily allow themselves to be repressed,” she said. “We know we have options to leave, so if this bill and all its components are put into effect, we will.”

The subject of Bill 96 has become the centre of a fierce debate in Montreal. However, the effect the policy might have on the city’s international population is perhaps an unperceived consequence. Not only do students feel like the bill is a threat to English-speaking Montrealers, but they also feel like they will be left out in a city that they have come to know as their home. If implemented, the bill runs the risk of driving those targeted to look elsewhere for studies and work.

 

Graphic by James Fay

What’s the Consensus: Should Concordia have made vaccines mandatory for in-person learning?

How do we feel about schools mandating COVID vaccines?

When vaccine passports came into effect in Quebec on Sept.1, a place that was notably missing from the list of locations where vaccine passports would be required was the post-secondary classroom. Understandably, educational institutions are not considered a non-essential service, distinguishing them from the locations where vaccine passports are required upon entry, such as restaurants and fitness centres. At the same time, we students know (boy, do we ever know) all too well that virtual learning — despite its challenges — is possible… so, should those who are unable or unwilling to get vaccinated against COVID-19 be required to learn from home?

It’s important to note that Concordia is following the lead of Quebec health directives, which indicated that vaccination was not necessary to attend classes in-person. In Ontario, however, where vaccine passports were more recently put in place, some universities, such as the University of Ottawa, have independently made vaccine passports mandatory for in-person learning — regardless of their provincial recommendations.

On Sept. 23, Concordia sent an email to all students, informing us that there have been 22 confirmed COVID-19 cases reported by people who “may have been” on campus while they were contagious. As unsettling as that is, there’s no way of knowing whether those potentially contagious students were vaccinated against COVID-19 or not; while most Quebecers are now fully vaccinated, there’s no data on how many Concordians have gotten one or both doses of the vaccine.

So, Concordians, here’s what I’d like to know: do you wish that Concordia had made vaccine passports mandatory for attending classes in-person? Would the reassurance that your classmates are fully vaccinated make your learning experience a more comfortable one? Or, do you think that it isn’t a university’s place to mandate vaccinations?

What’s the Consensus?

 

Click here to cast your vote:

https://the-city-concordia-u.involve.me/new-project-09ac-copy

 

The results from each poll will be published in the following edition of this column.

Last week I asked readers if they think it’s okay to travel for leisure during the pandemic. Out of 20 submissions, 65% said yes and 35% said no.

 

Feature Graphic by James Fay

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