Learning, Off the Danforth

by Alicia Murray

The house is quiet in the mornings. Completely silent, save for the low hum of the refrigerator and the creak of my footsteps as I walk across the floor. The only light outside is from the streetlights; dawn is yet to come. As the rest of Victoria lie asleep in their beds, I make my much-needed 5 A.M. matcha before settling in front of my computer. This is the morning routine of a Centennial College student—specifically, one in the online publishing program, tuning in from Vancouver Island. 

I applied to Centennial during a brief frenzy of desperation. I’d been waitlisted for the Master of Publishing program at Simon Fraser University, the only school in Canada that provides this certification. Chastising myself for not having a backup plan, I quickly conducted an internet search for “publishing programs Canada.” A list of Ontario colleges popped up. Centennial caught my attention for several reasons: not only is it one of Canada’s top colleges, but it also offers a comprehensive course load, a field placement term, and an opportunity to work on the regional magazine, On the Danforth. Most importantly, however, the online variant of the program allows for distance learning. Online schooling is ideal, I thought to myself, as I was unwilling to uproot and return to my former home province of Ontario. The more research I conducted, the more I became sure that Centennial was the school for me. 

The only drawback was the synchronous Zoom classes. Lectures at 8:30 A.M. are all fair and good until you live in a time zone three hours behind. As the semester began, so did my new sleep schedule. I began waking up at 5 A.M., sacrificing my one true love of sleeping in for the sake of my education. Bolstered by the misconception that the early mornings would get easier once I adapted, I dove headfirst into the publishing graduate certificate program. However, I soon realized the adage “rise and shine” does not apply to me. Whether I go to bed at 7 P.M. or 11 P.M., it is nearly impossible for me to get out of bed at 5 A.M. Each day, I celebrate the end of class by returning to sleep. My new schedule has become: wake up, school, sleep, work, sleep, repeat.

Surprisingly, implementing a split sleep shift has boosted my productivity. Sleeping in a split shift is also known as segmented sleep or biphasic sleep and involves dividing sleep into two periods: for example, a longer nighttime sleep and a shorter daytime nap. In previous school years, I would reach the school day’s finish line to find a vast expanse of nothing-planned time and limitless ways to fill it. One task would lead to another until I’d done everything except my homework. Now, each day is divided into sections. I must get my studying done after my morning nap and before going to work. Otherwise, there is no other time to complete it. While doctors, sleep specialists, and the like would probably discourage this haphazard sleeping pattern, my ADHD brain thrives on it. The built-in time crunch gives me the adrenaline to channel a level of diligence I’ve never experienced before; procrastination is not an option.

Being an out-of-province student doesn’t only affect my schedule, but my overall learning experience, too. I was worried I’d find it difficult to pay attention while learning at home, but any fears I had about being under-stimulated during lectures washed away on my first day. I found the course content to be interesting and the teaching style to be engaging. Designed to be delivered online, the program offers what pandemic-era Zoom classes could not. Whereas the online lectures of my undergraduate days were the result of extenuating circumstances that forced under-prepared—but well-meaning and hard-working—professors onto their computers, the online publishing program is built especially for its medium. 

When in-person communication is impossible, digital communication becomes doubly important. Many members of the group have prioritized socialization, making sure to keep in touch. As isolating as learning at home alone can be, two things tie us together: our passion for books and the fact that we are all alone together.

Knowing the limits of connecting with classmates online, class discussions, networking events, and group projects are implemented into the remote program. We are, quite literally, forced to get to know one another. Despite being provinces away from my classmates—and, in some cases, countries and continents away—connections are easily formed. Physical distance has not hindered the cohort’s sense of community. When in-person communication is impossible, digital communication becomes doubly important. Many members of the group have prioritized socialization, making sure to keep in touch. As isolating as learning at home alone can be, two things tie us together: our passion for books and the fact that we are all alone together. Finding a way to build togetherness as a group outside of class time has been simple—we have formed a book club. By reading the same book at the same time, we can connect on a social level in addition to an academic level. 

Entering a new industry is daunting. Having twenty other people to enter it alongside you is comforting. I may not have the Centennial Publishing experience of spending time on the Danforth, but I feel connected to it just the same. After all, what ties you to a place isn’t your physical presence—it’s the experiences you have, the things you learn, and the people you meet. So, I continue to wake up before dawn each day, making my matcha and embracing this experience. I boot up my laptop and the morning quiet is broken by the tinny sound of a Zoom call. Good morning, Centennial.