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Main Body

Introduction: Why Shifiting From Student to Learner Matters

Noah Striker; Stacey MacKinnon; and Tessa Rooseboom

STOP & READ THIS FIRST!

I know you’re probably itching to skip this intro and dive right into the good stuff. But hear me out—give this a quick read, and I promise it’ll be worth it. Think of it as a warm-up before the main event! (I’d offer a money-back guarantee, but since this is a free resource, you’ll just have to take my word for it!)

A few years ago, during a discussion with my mentor, Dr. Stacey MacKinnon, about writing this handbook, she told me a story from the early days of her academic career. Her own mentor had once told her she had “it” and encouraged her to pursue a PhD and a career in academia. Neither of them knew exactly what “it” was back then, but the idea stuck with her ever since. Stacey told me that she sees the same “it” in me, and now, 20 years later, she finally understands what “it” truly represents.

The “it” is your mindset — when it comes to learning, people with “it” have a mindset of curiosity, excitement, and, most importantly, the desire to learn. People with “it” may be students by trade but are learners by choice. Learners don’t just complete assignments and take tests; they delve deeper into the material and are eager to understand and explore. They get lost in their textbooks and find purpose and enjoyment in learning. Matthew L. Sanders’ book, “Becoming a Learner,” delves into this concept in more depth. On Stacey’s recommendation, I read it, and it has completely transformed my perspective on post-secondary education. While many insights from Sanders’ book will be deeply integrated into the rest of this introduction, I highly encourage you to read his book as well; I read it in an afternoon!

Alright, I already know what you’re thinking — “yeah right, I just want to graduate and move on” — and I totally understand that perspective, because, for most of my time in university, I felt the same way. But imagine if you could enjoy the learning process. Here’s what changed for me:

What do you want to do when you grow up? Whenever asked this, I’d respond with “doctor,” “surgeon,” or some other impressive high-earning medical career. I’m sure you had your own go-to response, and maybe it lined up with your interests, or maybe, like me, you don’t know where it came from. Perhaps it was my parents pushing me toward a high-paying career, the career tests we did in high school, or maybe it was just my love of Grey’s Anatomy. Regardless of its origin, I had my sights set on medical school. Throughout high school, I took all the core sciences: biology, chemistry, and physics, and then I dove into my Bachelor of Science in Biology at the University of Prince Edward Island (UPEI).

I saw the degree as nothing more than a checkbox on the way to the career I wanted to pursue. For much of my first two years in university, I felt like I was on autopilot — I’d watch the lectures, read the textbook (sometimes), complete the assignments and tests, and dream about the end of the semester. I had phenomenal grades, but there’s no chance I “enjoyed” it; I was miserable. Some of my peers had it figured out — they were fascinated by the textbook and spoke about their excitement to volunteer in our biology professor’s lab and the microorganisms they were growing, but I just couldn’t relate. Why would I bother reading any more of the textbook than I had to and taking more time out of my already busy day to volunteer in my professor’s lab? I just wanted to get my degree and move on; I didn’t care about the learning.

Something changed when I took an Intro to Psychology course. For the first time in university, I loved what I was learning and couldn’t get enough of it. So much so that I decided to switch my degree from a BSc in Biology to Psychology in my third year. To my surprise, I was now the one reading a few chapters too many from the textbook and looking to volunteer in my professor’s labs. However, I was still unwilling to even consider changing my career path away from medical school, fearing the uncertainty that it would bring. In my third year of university, I decided to finally study for and write the MCAT to apply for medical schools the following year. I bought the outrageously expensive study guide with the intention of getting my money’s worth; I was going to study those books meticulously and get an incredible score on the MCAT, as I had done for nearly every other test in my life. Yet, I couldn’t bring myself to study. I kept putting it off and putting it off until May came around, and I only had three months left to study for the entirety of the MCAT. Still, I struggled, and months went by without any progress. I ended up not writing my MCAT and instead pledging to spend the next year studying for it.

I was beginning to realize, for the first time since I was a child, when I would explore every career from construction to being an FBI agent (yes, I know we don’t have the FBI in Canada, but little Noah didn’t know that yet…) that maybe being a physician was not the career for me, and perhaps I should explore options in a field like psychology, that I couldn’t get enough of. After much research, I thought I wanted to be a clinical psychologist more than anything. Unlike medical school, which was an end goal I was just aimlessly working towards, clinical psychology was a field that excited me and ignited my curiosity. It’s where I feel I can make a profound impact and truly thrive. And the best part? The training I’d need as a clinical psychologist didn’t start after my bachelor’s degree, nor would it have for medical school, but I had yet to realize that. My training had already begun. All the work I did as an undergrad and before was valuable experience preparing me for the trials of a PhD or PsyD program and would inform my future as a clinical psychologist!

Or so I thought…

Writing this handbook has been a journey of more than three years, spanning different cohorts of students and, apparently, several different versions of me. After writing much of what you’ve just read back in 2024, I finished my BSc in Psychology with Honours, moved to Ottawa, moved back to PEI, and ended up on a path I never would have predicted. So, hi again! Everything before this paragraph was written by 2024 Noah. You’re now hearing from 2026 Noah, sitting in a café with his MacBook and an apple crisp iced coffee. I’d love to tell you that everything worked out exactly as planned; I found my purpose, and I’m now living the life younger me imagined. But you deserve the truth: I feel like I lost my purpose for a while, and I’m still figuring out what comes next.

I interviewed for a Clinical Psychology program, but I didn’t get in. I moved to Ottawa believing I was beginning the next chapter of my life, but things didn’t unfold the way I expected, and I eventually moved back to PEI. I also made mistakes that were entirely my own. I spent money I shouldn’t have, took on debt I wish I hadn’t, and made financial decisions I’m still paying for now. I have my own little apartment in PEI, I’m finally learning how to budget properly, and I’ve discovered that bills have the remarkable ability to regenerate every month no matter how many times you pay them. More seriously, there were periods when all of this felt much bigger than a few bad decisions or changed plans. I felt deeply depressed, lost, and incredibly lonely. I had spent so long imagining that future Noah would have everything figured out that I wasn’t prepared for the possibility that future Noah might actually feel less certain than ever. I messed up. More than once. I’ll probably mess up again. Pretending otherwise wouldn’t be very useful to you.

Part of what made that period so difficult was that I hadn’t just imagined a career for myself. I had imagined an entire life. I thought I would get into clinical psychology, build a career I loved, find my forever person, and settle into the adulthood I thought I was supposed to have. When that picture changed, I became focused on rebuilding it as quickly as possible. As a gay man in my twenties, I started treating finding a partner as another milestone I needed to reach. If I could just get into the right program, find the right career, meet the right person, then maybe I could finally feel like my life was on track. Looking back, I had turned nearly everything into a finish line. I kept waiting for my life to start once I had collected all the right things, without realizing that my life was already happening. There is nothing wrong with wanting a partner, a meaningful career, a graduate degree, or any of the other things you picture for your future. I still want many of those things. But there is also nothing wrong with not having found your forever person in your twenties, just as there is nothing wrong with not knowing exactly where your degree will take you. Maybe you figure some of that out at 24, 28, 35, or much later. Life isn’t a race, and adulthood isn’t a checklist.

The strange part is that while I felt like I had lost my purpose, there were clues all around me about what actually mattered to me. I now work for an education technology company, where I spend my days thinking about how students learn, designing learning experiences, solving problems in education, and helping instructors help their students. Somehow, I was surrounded by the very thing that fascinated me and still didn’t recognize what it was telling me. Around the same time, I was diagnosed with ADHD, joining Stacey and several of the other authors of this book, which may also explain why this handbook has taken us approximately seventeen centuries to finish. Through therapy and a lot of uncomfortable reflection, I also started questioning my clinical psychology plan. Looking back, I think part of its appeal was that it felt like the closest I could get to the medical career I had spent years imagining. I had changed the destination, but I was still doing the same thing: choosing a future first and then trying to force myself toward it.

Eventually, after months of researching programs, careers, degrees, and just about every possible version of my future, I stopped asking myself, What career am I supposed to have? and started asking a much simpler question: What am I actually curious about? The answer had been sitting in front of me for years. Learning. I love learning. I love understanding how people learn. I love helping other people learn. I love thinking about education, psychology, technology, curiosity, and what makes someone genuinely want to know more. Writing this handbook probably should have been a fairly obvious clue. I finally realized that education wasn’t just something I wanted to use as a pathway toward a career. Education was what I wanted to study. So, in another plot twist that 2024 Noah absolutely did not see coming, I’m now beginning a Master of Education in Open, Digital, and Distance Education at Athabasca University.

Do I know exactly where that degree will take me? Nope. I don’t know what job I’ll have in twenty years, where I’ll live, who I’ll share my life with, or whether another version of Noah will someday read this paragraph and realize I still had plenty wrong. And maybe that’s the point. Plans change. Purpose changes. Sometimes you might even feel like you’ve lost your purpose entirely. You can get rejected from something you desperately wanted, realize you were chasing the wrong future, make expensive mistakes, feel completely lost, change your mind, and start again. I’ve done all of those things. None of them made me a failure. They taught me something. Sometimes learning means admitting, “I messed that up,” figuring out what it taught you, and making the next decision a little differently. And if you don’t believe me, check out Dr. MacKinnon’s own story at the end of this book!

I still feel lost sometimes. I still get lonely. I’m still paying off debt, and I still have days when I wonder what I’m doing with my life. But I’m curious again. Instead of racing toward the next milestone because I think it will finally make my life complete, I’m trying to pay more attention to the life I’m already living. I don’t want to spend my twenties preparing to be happy someday and miss the fact that someday is being built right now. Maybe that’s progress. Anyway, I should probably hand you back to 2024 Noah now. He has absolutely no idea what’s coming. Be nice to him.

 

Resilience and Thriving

Resilience and thriving is a very special topic for myself (Tessa) and my fellow lab coordinator (Patience), and something Noah’s story should have taught you a lot about already! We simply could not forgive ourselves if we did not at least briefly discuss the importance of inquiry in your ability to be resilient and thrive. We recently conducted an analysis of interviews performed by one of Dr. MacKinnon’s former honours students (Olivia Dolphine). They sought participants who identified themselves as people who were truly thriving in life. These were people who felt a strong sense of accomplishment and connection to who they have become and what they choose to do with their lives. From these participants, we were able to find four common themes that appear to have contributed to our participants’ abilities to thrive:

  1. Intrinsic motivation: participants described the importance of making decisions based on what they personally desired from their life. This required them to learn about what they want out of life and work towards things that they feel internally motivated to accomplish.
  2. Personal discovery: participants expressed the importance of discovering a timeline and learning environment that worked best for them. This meant they need to be curious about how they learn and when they learn best to help them reach their goal.
  3. Emotional support: participants addressed how important having the right kind of support system is for their ability to thrive. This meant they had to determine what kind of support worked best for them and work towards finding and developing this in their relationships.
  4. Self-care: participants acknowledged the need to prioritize their own self-care to ensure they can show up as their best selves. This required them to explore the different types of self-care available to determine what they found most effective.

In all these themes, there was a level of inquiry required by participants to discover more about themselves. Later in this book (chapter 5) we will look at a variety of ways you can use inquiry in your everyday life, just like many of these participants did. So, as you are reading, try to see how you use the skills we explore to improve your skills and ability to be resilient. You never know; maybe someday soon you will be able to say you are a thriver, just like these students were able to!

 

Now, maybe you’re where I once was, feeling out of place in the wrong program, or perhaps you’re in the right program but can’t relate to this sense of excitement and enjoyment that I mentioned, or maybe you’re neither; regardless, you’re in the right place. This handbook is here to help you reignite your curiosity and inquiry.

Moral of the story: switch your degree to psychology, and you’ll enjoy university, right? No… not quite.

The warm-up’s not quite over (hang in there with me!), but before we go any further, I’d like to acknowledge that when you hear “I” throughout this book, it may refer to me, Noah, or any of my fellow student authors’ from the Curiosity and Inquiry Research Collaboration Lab (CIRCL) namely Tessa, Patience, Ryan, Bella, Tofunmi, Keely, Alissa, and Evelyn. We are sharing not just our own insights but also the collective wisdom of many other students who contributed to making this book a reality. These contributors include students like Jodi Lynn Heys, Mohamad Ismail, Sarah Eden, and Mary-Teresa Pitre. Much of our insights are also built upon the foundational research of our mentor, Dr. Stacey L. MacKinnon and her co-author, Dr. Beth Archer-Kuhn, which you can find in their 2023 book, “Reigniting Curiosity and Inquiry in Higher Education”, which is aimed at professors and teachers. Together, we’ve worked to create a resource that helps YOU make the shift from student to learner, making the most of your university experience and the rest of your life.

Uncertainty & Change

Maybe now you’re feeling a bit excited, think you’re the exception, or believe this book won’t apply to you, and I don’t blame you! Even though I’m the one writing this, I can’t help but remember how, back in my first year of undergrad, I would have dismissed this book without a second thought! And that’s not uncommon — research shows that university students often hesitate to embrace innovative inquiry approaches and avoid taking on more responsibility for their own learning (Edelson, Gordin, & Pea, 2011). Yet, these are precisely the approaches we’ll be exploring throughout this handbook.

Delving into uncertainty and change can be intimidating, especially when it comes to your education or future. Choosing to be a curious and inquiring learner is one thing, but having it imposed upon you is another. If you were assigned this book for a course, you’re likely in the latter group, embarking on perhaps your first experience being an inquiry-based learner, which we like to abbreviate as IBL. Inquiry-Based Learning (IBL), at its heart, is about flipping the script on traditional education. Instead of passively absorbing information, as if you’re a sponge soaking up facts, IBL puts you in the driver’s seat. It’s not just about memorizing textbook definitions or cramming equations into your brain the night before a test — it’s about asking questions, digging deeper, and finding answers that genuinely resonate with you. It’s a learning approach that thrives on curiosity, where your questions become the foundation of your educational journey.

Think of IBL as an adventure, filled with twists and turns, where the map is drawn not just by your professor but by you. It’s about breaking free from the rigid structure of lectures and exams, daring to venture into the unknown, and embracing the messy, unpredictable nature of discovery itself. Yes, it’s uncomfortable at times — you might feel like you’re lost or that the path ahead is unclear. But that’s the beauty of it. Growth happens in the haze of discomfort.

In practice, becoming an inquiry-based learner involves actively engaging with material, exploring ideas through discussions, projects, and self-directed research. It challenges you to think critically, connect concepts in meaningful ways, and see the world through a lens of curiosity. Instead of asking, “What do I need to know for the test?” you’ll start asking, “Why does this matter? How does this connect to the bigger picture? What can I do with this knowledge?”

And let’s be honest: moving into this mode of learning can be daunting. After years of sitting in classrooms, scribbling notes, and regurgitating answers on exams, jumping into inquiry can feel like trying to ride a bike without training wheels for the first time. You might wobble, you might fall, but you’ll learn. And, trust me, the thrill of truly understanding something — not because someone told you to but because you sought out the answer — is worth every scraped knee along the way.

Even with my experience in IBL, I still feel uncomfortable when starting a new IBL project. In fact, writing this handbook felt like an IBL project itself. Although I’ve written papers and completed written assignments my whole life (heck, I even blogged for a short time!), I’ve never worked on a handbook meant to be read by the broader public; it’s actually pretty intimidating! When we started this project, I had an all-too-familiar feeling of uncertainty; my immediate thought was, “there’s no way we can get this done in time” (which we didn’t…), and I began to panic. I had to step back and use the very inquiry skills we’re talking about here, and this started with a discussion with my mentor and a great deal of planning. Feeling nervous and out of your comfort zone when starting to be an inquirer is perfectly normal.

Navigating this journey isn’t a straightforward A-to-B path; encountering problems along the way is simply part of the process. This handbook is here to guide you through it all. Making the shift from student to learner involves becoming okay with being uncomfortable. Embracing uncertainty is a sign that you’re learning and growing (Furr & Harmon Furr, 2022). In an educational setting, this discomfort comes from how we’ve been trained to learn. This training starts early in preschool or kindergarten, and we grow up with it. By the time we reach post-secondary education, we think we’ve got the education system figured out:

  1. Sit down
  2. Take notes
  3. Do the readings (sometimes)
  4. Complete the assignments (maybe even on time)
  5. Regurgitate everything you’ve learned when the test comes around (and then forget about it)

Shifting from student to learner challenges you to see education as more than just a checklist of tasks or a stepping stone to graduation; it invites you to rethink how you engage with learning entirely. Imagine viewing every lecture, every assignment, and every discussion as an opportunity to explore, question, and grow — not because you have to, but because you want to. It’s about igniting a sense of purpose and curiosity that transforms the process of learning into an exciting journey of discovery. So, as you venture into this new way of thinking, let curiosity be your compass and enthusiasm your guide. The adventure starts here, and the possibilities are endless. Let’s take the leap together.

Student vs. Learner

As you reflect on your own educational journey, you might begin to notice the subtle but powerful shift that happens when you cross the line from being a passive student to becoming an active learner. It’s not just about ticking boxes or surviving another semester; it’s about cultivating a mindset that embraces questions, uncertainty, and growth. This mindset carries forward into every new challenge, whether it’s a difficult assignment, an unfamiliar concept, or even the daunting task of shaping your future career. The distinction between a student and a learner is more than academic. It speaks to your willingness to own your development and seek meaning in your experiences. With this shift, it becomes clear that the true value of education goes far beyond grades and credentials; it’s about who you become in the process and how you learn to navigate a world that rewards curiosity, initiative, and adaptability. Let’s dig deeper into what sets a learner apart, and how embodying this perspective can transform not only your university experience but your entire approach to life and work.

Student Learner
Waits to be directed Seeks out opportunities
Learns for the test Learns for understanding
Is externally motivated Is internally motivated
Avoids challenging situations Seeks challenging situations
Sees learning as an obligation Sees learning as an opportunity
Learns to do Learns to learn

(Sanders, 2022)

Katie’s Experience Making the Shift from Student to Learner
I come from a country other than Canada. In my home country, due to our emphasis on
education, students face immense pressure to earn high marks.

This is why I still remember the feeling of being consumed. Consumed by tests. Peer pressure. The weight of the future. The collective assumption, or belief, that education changes our lives. Consumed, I only knew that I should do well.

At the same time, however, my motivation was blurry. I was a good student, yet I felt
constrained. There was not enough time and opportunity to explore what I wanted. In the unified voice of thousands, I had lost my voice and power.

Then I came into a Canadian senior high school. I came under a differentway of teaching and a new set of expectations, and suddenly I had access to various subjects. Everything was new and exciting. Even learning felt more natural, more intrinsic.

At Grade 10, I needed to read Shakespeare. The reading was difficult at first, but as I read
more, I began to understand how the words made sense. I felt my skills developing, so I returned to the text voluntarily. In that course, I did more than what I “should” because I wanted.

By the time I entered university, I had understood that genuine interest was more powerful
than forced obligations. Due to eager learning, my first year in university went smoothly, but soon my eagerness wore out.

In my second year, I felt enormous peer pressure. A part of me said I should work harder. Get a job or earn a good grade. Consumed by these voices, I conformed and focused on these demands, although I worried about not meeting them.

Yet, even dominated by fear, I still held values of a learner. The summer before my third year, I felt a calling to write, explore, and express. So I wrote―several personal essays that brought great joy.

Writing then helped me restore a willingness to learn. Not as a student, but as someone
curious and interested. Though I stumbled, I found enormous joy in learning what I wanted to learn. I realized that a part of me was still a learner; however, when the voice that said “I should” dominated, the learner part of me withered.

The summer before my fourth year, when I had the opportunity to join Dr. Stacey
MacKinnon’s summer course, I decided to join. For several times, my hands hovered over the button that said “register”. And a voice whispered: you want to learn, so go and learn.
By the time the course started, a new way of thinking had emerged from my writing
experiences. I believed that I do not have to know everything before I write or express. In that summer course, I often worked out my thinking on the page or as I spoke, and I absorbed and expanded on many ideas this way.

As a result of this course, I began to look at myself differently and approach societal issues
critically. This growth wouldn’t occur if I chose not to take this course. And honestly, I worried about falling short of the standards that I “should” meet. I came close to this other decision.

However, I valued learning above the fear; instead of compromising, I chose what was true
to me.

Right now, I have one year until graduation. There is much uncertainty, but I aim to make
choices that feel true. Such decisions focus on taking initiative, learning and growing, and
approaching life from a new perspective, the perspective shaped by the learning.

The Shakespeare I read lasts to this day; from reading it, I learned that genuine interest leads more powerfully than obligations. Writing helped with learning, so I now have a tool to explore and understand. The summer course introduced me to new perspectives. Thus, I look at myself and others differently.

Therefore, when I choose to be a learner, I open myself to a bigger world. I learn and grow,
and make new choices that open new doors. This is the reward, a continuous reward.

Looking Beyond to Post-Graduation

Alright, I want to jump back to the start of this introduction where I mentioned Sanders’ (2022) book, “Becoming a Learner.” I don’t want to spoil the book for you, but one key tenet that Sanders raises is that when we think about what employers are looking for, we often think about degrees and marks to prove our worth. We think that the professional job skills we learn along the way are what our future employers are looking for. Well, as you’ve probably guessed by now, we were wrong. Job skills are far from being the only or the most important outcome of your education.

Several major organizations have identified five important competencies for recent graduates: complex problem-solving, critical thinking, coordination with others, leadership, and communication. Research by NACE (National Association of Colleges and Employers) surveyed employers regarding which of these competencies they considered essential for university or college students entering the workforce (NACE, 2024). Employers also evaluated recent graduates’ proficiency in each competency using ratings of “very” or “extremely” proficient. The table below indicates that while employers viewed professionalism/work ethic, critical thinking and problem-solving, teamwork/collaboration, and communication as important for workforce entry, they rated recent graduates as less proficient in these areas.

Percentage of Employers and Students Rating New Graduates as Highly Proficient in Key Competency Areas

Competency Area Percentage of Employers Rating Recent Graduates as Highly Proficient Percentage of Students Rating Themselves as Highly Proficient Difference in Perspectives
Professionalism / Work Ethic 44% 85% 41%
Critical Thinking / Problem-Solving 56% 80% 24%
Teamwork / Collaboration 78% 87% 9%
Oral / Written Communication 54% 80% 26%
Leadership 33% 67% 34%
Digital Technology 80% 65% -15%
Career Management 36% 62% 26%

Note: Percentages have been rounded to the nearest whole number for clarity.

What often goes unspoken in all of this is the deep satisfaction that comes from seeing tangible improvements in your skills. Whether it’s noticing your communication abilities sharpen, your confidence in leadership grow, or your comfort with technology increase, even if the numbers sometimes go up and down along the way. These percentages hint at a journey much bigger than mere statistics; they’re markers of personal transformation, each improvement reflecting the result of effort, curiosity, and resilience. As you move forward, remember that every percentage point isn’t just data. Rather, it’s evidence of your progress, proof that your investment of time and energy is paying off, not only in your studies but in the way you approach the world itself.

Purpose & Enjoyment of Learning

The best part of becoming a learner is the sense of purpose and enjoyment that comes with it. It’s not just about getting good grades (we’ll tackle that next!) or getting your diploma; it’s about feeling genuinely excited to learn and explore new ideas, with the degree being a bonus along the way. The daily grind of lectures and assignments can become something you actually look forward to. It’s about letting your curiosity guide you so learning becomes a journey, not a chore.

Everything changes when you start seeing learning as more than a means to an end. Suddenly, those late-night study sessions (which aren’t the most effective, but we’ll come back to this) and challenging assignments become opportunities for growth and discovery. You dive into topics not because you have to, but because you want to. It’s about finding those moments when you lose track of time because you’re so engaged in what you’re learning, like when you get absorbed in a book or a documentary.

Considering how expensive post-secondary education is, getting the most out of your investment is important. But remember, you’re not buying an education—you’re paying for access to opportunities. I was really struck by how Sanders explained this concept in Becoming a Learner. He compares education to a gym membership: you don’t just purchase fitness; you get access to equipment and trainers, and then it’s up to you to put in the effort. Similarly, you’re not a consumer of education. It’s about more than just getting a return on your financial investment; it’s about the time, energy, and effort you put in to grow. Viewing education as something you can buy limits your growth. If you expect to be entertained and educated without any effort, you’re missing the point. Education isn’t a product; it’s an ongoing process that requires your active involvement. Instead of seeing yourself as a consumer, think of yourself as an apprentice, learning under the guidance of mentors.

Being a learner means embracing the unknown and seeing challenges as chances to learn more about yourself and the world. You stop worrying about only memorizing every detail for a test and start focusing on understanding the bigger picture as well. This mindset shift opens doors to new possibilities, encouraging you to ask questions, seek out mentors, and explore your interests more deeply.

Alright, but what about those pesky required courses?

Required courses exist for a reason—they give you a taste of a subject’s breadth and depth, as well as vital skills and mindsets, allowing you to decide where you want to delve deeper. These courses are designed to provide you with a broad foundation, opening up new avenues of interest and potential career paths. Before I took Advanced Statistics with another one of my mentors, Dr. Jessica Strong, I was convinced that I didn’t enjoy statistics and wanted nothing to do with it; I only took the course because it was a prerequisite for many graduate programs I might apply to. However, to my surprise, I found myself loving statistics and actually enjoying using it! I even used what I learned to analyze a program I lead for my job in the university’s Student Affairs department. We were able to adjust our hours to accommodate more students and provide more of what they wanted most (which, unsurprisingly, was food). Required courses might seem like just another box to check, but they can lead to incredible discoveries that enhance your academic and personal growth. They’re not just hurdles on the way to graduation but opportunities to develop skills and passions in ways you might never have expected.

Your degree is just the starting point, not the end. It marks the beginning of your learning journey, not the conclusion. The real value of your education isn’t just the piece of paper you receive at the end but the skills, insights, and growth you gain along the way. The worst outcome is getting a degree without genuinely learning anything or growing as a person.

Ultimately, the joy of learning is in the process itself, where every discovery leads to another, and the more you learn, the more you realize there is to explore. This excitement keeps you engaged and passionate, not just in your studies but throughout your life. So, let’s dive in, get curious, and embrace the journey of becoming a lifelong learner.

Reflecting on First Year – Evelyn McEwan

I first joined the CIRCL research lab at the beginning of my first year. There, I was presented with the opportunity to write a reflection for this student handbook on what my first year of university was like and what other students should expect from this new experience. Now I am about to enter my third year at UPEI as a double major in psychology and music, and I have changed and grown a lot since that first semester. My advice, however, remains the same – stay curious. First-year university taught me a lot about myself: my personal learning styles, how to fail, how to organize my time, how to make connections with professors, and ultimately how to be a productive adult. Like any other high school student, I was eager to leave the public school system yet nervous to take the next step. Becoming a university student is more than just showing up to class; it requires discipline, responsibility, and most importantly, curiosity. On my first day of class, I had instilled in myself a false confidence that I would be prepared to face my next level of education without facing any difficulty. I knew it would be different from high school but not so different that I might have to completely reshape how I learn and who I am as a student. I saw university as my next challenge, and within the first few months I would assuredly conquer it. To my surprise, every few months a new challenge would arise that would keep me from mastering university and becoming a star student. At the beginning, I struggled to make connections on campus with both professors and fellow students; later, I found myself falling behind on classwork and burning myself out trying to keep up with the curriculum and the unending pressure of academic validation. By the end of my first year, I began to question why I was doing this. I had burnt myself out so much that I lost the innate curiosity I had to learn more and to stay interested. Finding ways to stay curious has been one of the most important tools I have used to keep myself motivated to get my degree. I make a point to take as many courses as I can that challenge and interest me; I take courses by professors I know are curious in the same fields I am, and I surround myself with a support system that encourages me to keep going. To every first-year student entering university, I would encourage you to do everything in your power to stay curious, whether that is by joining an extracurricular, taking fewer classes per semester, or switching majors. Staying curious will make your university experience a lot less stressful and a lot more enjoyable.

 

 

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Making the Shift From Student to Learner Copyright © 2026 by Curiosity & Inquiry Research Collaboration Lab is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License, except where otherwise noted.

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