My years at Upper Canada College were of angst. I was an outsider without friends, alien to an institution filled with sports stars and over-achievers. They considered me worthless, excelling neither in academics nor athletics, contrasted against these future leaders and powerful men.
I passed through the hallowed halls of UCC, decorated with boards filled with names — community service leaders, scholarship recipients, military achievments — without making so much as a whisper. When I left, it felt as if I had lost a great opportunity.
It was partially my own fault. A lack of confidence and poor social skills made me an outcast. But it was as much the fault of an institution with shortcomings of its own.
The faculty was blind to the meek. In phys-ed, John and I would play our own games because no one would ever pass to the small Chinese guy and his un-coordinated friend1. The gym teachers never had a problem with it. Students who didn’t understand the material were told to reserve their questions after class, so as not to hold back the others.
With mixed feelings, I swapped out of UCC in my final year to the Catholic school system. As much as I felt like a guppy in a school of sharks, I still understood what an opportunity it was for me to attend. I took the entrance exam and interview twice; the first time without being accepted, the second time put me on the waiting list2.
I remember feeling a pang of pride when it was announced that we were to study Fifth Business in English by Robertson Davies, alumnus from 1926–1932. Or seeing my old gym coach on TV playing for the Canada National Rugby Union Team, the burly 6’2″ man who would shave his legs so his hairs didn’t get caught in a scrum. Even media baron Conrad Black, currently on charges for embezzling $60 million, was in attendance at one point, but was caught and expelled for selling exams there. To this day, I tease John that he’ll end up achieving the same level of “success”.
UCC is perfect for those who can take advantage of it’s rich resources. It’s for the rich kids who could afford taking band trips across the world3. The gifted athletes who could play on the baseball diamonds, the hockey arenas. The teachers were top notch too, winners of Governor General teaching awards, university profs, influential authors in their own right. It’s an institution that benefits the strong and the smart. At the time, I was neither.
I used to feel like I didn’t gain anything from UCC. Eventually, I realized that being there taught me to achieve greatness in my own way. That the success of a person is measured in more than money, fame, and power.
The Old Boys of '99 Series
- Introduction
- Another Perspective
- Seeto and Bunston
- Mungovan and King
- Providing Ignorance as Bliss
- My Perspective
- One time, in a fit of frustration, John walked out of volleyball class and smashed the glass case of an old team photo with his fist. The picture is still preserved in its torn state because it’s the only print. I love teasing him about this story. [↑]
- My parents took the vice-principal to dinner once, soon after the exam, and I was eventually accepted. I always wonder whether this dinner helped me get in. [↑]
- I was lucky enough to do this once, to Hungary. They made me first flute of the Wind Ensemble [↑]
a few weeks back i was wandering around St George with a friend and we walked into what i thought i was just another building, but it turned it out it was UCC. and i was all, “you mean i just walked into a school and am now sitting on a bench in a hallway here and no one cares? is this even legal?”
in other news, one of my favourite teachers taught them part-time or something after he left my high school.
and also, i feel like this a little about Queen’s.
and now i need to read your other posts on the subject :)
Drunk? Yes, again. You got the mad skills, and the jealousy of one public school fool right here. I’m much a lamer, more than you.
@fathima — Yeah, the school was always very open. There are security cameras everywhere, though they remain hidden. We found out one year when a student crazy-glued the locks and cost the school something like $12000 in damage.
I supposed I’d feel the same way about university if my university was more prestigious. I could see how you’d feel that way about Queens.
@Reno — Jealous? As a lamer, what do I have to be jealous of?
I meant you have my jealousy, haha. That school looks really neat.
Sorry, I meant to ask, what do I have for you to be jealous of, but now I understand what you were trying to say.
Could it be that there’s a universal? That few teachers anywhere can draw out students who are reluctant to not jump in fully equipped to excel? Would not any situation seem structured for those who are positioned to step forward to use the resources to the most advantage?
Outcast or withdrawn? which frame benefits you how or why? I have traditionally framed myself as an outsider, fringe periphery person out of knee-jerk disassociation with mainstream or myriad other things. I’m unpacking why. I never felt I was excelling but that may be more my reading than reality. I can see I cut my feet out from under myself by times. I’m learning to watch for self-scything.
Actually, I found Catholic school to be pretty good at helping the “less-equipped” students. The teachers would ask if there were any questions, and if so, they would stop the entire class to make sure that everyone understood. Fair and equal, I suppose, but I could see how this would hold back the students who already grasped the material. I’m not saying that one way is better than the other, just that each has it’s advantages.
I’d consider myself an outsider to general society now too, but when I was young and in high-school I yearned for a certain degree of acceptance, not as a desperate need to fit in but just to appear normal. It was probably something I sought out of a lack of attention from my parents.
I recall being on both ends of the spectrum in a terribly overcrowded public school. Teachers were overwhelmed. I either excelled and spent a lot of time acting out and being bored (any literary matters) or was invisible and bewildered without any recourse for help (mathematical end of things). Our school had a way of losing track of you and not really caring about where you ended up, no matter what happened. I think either of your situations might have worked better for me.
I would believe that it’s not just the setting of a school that determines the experience, but the faculty and board of directors and executive committee as well. Even different generations at the same school would experience it in a unique way. Public schools are all different, as private schools, as Catholic schools. We just happened to luck into the wrong ones, or perhaps ones that didn’t suit us.