It is reasonable to assume that most people go about their day-to-day lives without worrying much about whether they understand the people they interact with, and that minor miscommunications may not have significant adverse consequences. But how about if you are a person on trial? Being able to understand and be understood will not just be a lingering thought, but a constant, restless struggle to be truly heard. In these circumstances, interpreters step in to bridge this gap. 

Having read and studied Diana Eades’s Book, Sociolinguistics and the Legal Process, as part of my required readings in this course, I’ve learned that language is a significant part of how people experience the law and the justice system. Sociolinguistics, a subfield of linguistics, examines the relationship between society and language (Eades, 2010). According to Eades, “the interpreter’s job is to ‘replicate the original source language message in the target language that would have the same effect on listeners” (Eades, 2010, p. 70). However, interpreters sometimes face semantic, grammatical, pragmatic, and cultural challenges in the courtroom that can adversely affect the person on trial. For instance, there are semantic challenges when words or expressions in one language have no equivalent in the target language. Nevertheless, no matter how perfectly an interpreter replicates the source-language message, significant cultural differences may render the interpretation nonsensical (Eades, 2010). Non-English or second-language speakers, and individuals with severe hearing loss who are not proficient in English or use English as a second language, may have a harder time working with interpreters. As students, how can we help address these issues in the future? 

I believe that becoming more educated and informed about any issue is the best way to address it. At a surface level, one might think, how can taking one course in university make a significant change? It makes all the difference because it is about seeing the bigger picture. It is about one more person with this educational background in the justice system who is not only aware of the struggles but may also have the perspective to form an opinion, however big or small it may be. 

Although “Language and the Law” was not required for me as a Law & Society student, I recommend that my peers take it. Prior to taking this course, I was cognizant of the power of words in law, but I was not aware that interpreters faced many different challenges. Combining interdisciplinary socio-legal studies with sociolinguistics provides valuable insights into how some people may have difficulty being understood in the justice system. More importantly, these insights can provide perspectives on how future students can take action to help these individuals have better experiences. 

References 
Eades, D. (2010). Sociolinguistics and the legal process. Multilingual Matters. 

By Sarah Fadavi-Anbiayee 

The post The Importance of the Study of Sociolinguistics in Helping ESL Speakers and Non-English Speakers in the Justice Systems appeared first on LA&PS Newsroom.

Over time, the sweating became harder to manage; humidity and stress made the symptoms worse. A simple task, such as a short ten-minute walk to Shoppers Drug Mart and back, caused me to have to change my underwear when I arrived home. This unusual instance became part of my daily reality. A defining moment happened in class, while I was trying to pay attention to the professor. I felt my body becoming consumed by tiny beads of sweat. First, my hands became wet, followed by trails dripping down my back and chest. I felt my socks becoming moist alongside my underwear. The torrents of water beads eventually soaked through my pants. It was humiliating.  

Hyperhidrosis is not just physical; it affects your mental health, too. It creates anxiety, embarrassment and isolation. I started missing classes and avoided going outside as much as possible. My world became smaller and smaller. It turned into a vicious cycle: the sweating caused anxiety, and the anxiety made the sweating worse. I felt depleted and lost, so I went to see a doctor to figure out what could be done. The doctor prescribed medication to help control the sweating, and for a while, I thought I might finally be getting some relief. Unfortunately, they ended up giving me chest pain. I saw a cardiologist and was prescribed blood pressure medication for stage two hypertension. Now, I am trying the sweating pills again and have a few more tests scheduled.  

One of the things that helped me during this process was the profound support from my professors. I reached out to each of them separately and explained my situation. I had my doctor fill out a student accessibility form, and that was sent to my professors. Some of them graciously waived my participation marks so I could work from home. That kindness made a real difference and allowed me to focus on my health and keep up with my coursework without worrying about my grades being severely impacted because of my absence. Their non-judgmental understanding reminded me that asking for help is not a weakness. Sometimes it is the most important step you can take. That is one of the biggest lessons I have learned through this experience: advocating for your health matters. 

Advocating for yourself can be as simple as returning to the doctor when something still feels off. It can mean asking questions about side effects, requesting referrals, following up on test results or explaining to others how your condition is impacting your daily life. It can also mean asking for accommodations at school or work when your health makes it difficult to function the way others expect you to. None of that is easy, and it can be exhausting to explain yourself again and again, especially when your condition is not always visible in ways people understand. Remember that no one knows your body better than you do. If something feels wrong, it is worth paying attention to. If a treatment is causing new symptoms, it is worth speaking up. If your health is affecting your ability to learn and work, it is important to ask for help.  

I am still in the process of figuring out what will work for me long term, and I do not have all the answers yet. I am trying different medications, attending appointments and hoping to find a treatment plan that helps without creating more complications. Along the way, I have learned that being proactive about your health can make all the difference. I dream of the moment when I will get to wear colourful shirts to express myself instead of being tethered to black to hide what I am going through. I dream of going to class or running errands without worrying about whether sweat will take over my body. I dream of moving through the world with more ease and less fear. Until then, I want others who are dealing with hyperhidrosis or other complicated health concerns to know this: you are not alone. Your symptoms are real, your emotions are valid, and your health matters. 

You deserve care, support, and the chance to be heard. 
Be kind to yourself. 

By Chris Connell

Chris Connell is in his fourth year of English and Professional Writing at 91��ɫ. He is an aspiring writer and certified yoga teacher. In the evening, he enjoys unwinding in a hot bath with Lush bath bombs, tea, and a good book, often followed by his guilty pleasure: reality TV.  

The post I Dream of Colour: Learning to Advocate for My Health�� appeared first on LA&PS Newsroom.

Most of us only give ourselves a few seconds to decide whether something impresses us or whether we should ignore it. In those few seconds, we form judgments based on the cover, not the content, not the person behind it. Unless we already know the author, their name becomes just another word on a page. 

In many ways, this is also how we subconsciously treat the people we see on campus. We form placeholder impressions: simple mental shortcuts that help us quickly categorize others. Instead of adjusting these impressions as we learn more about someone, we often try to fit people into the models we already have, even if that means overlooking their individuality. 

Psychologists often describe these quick judgments as mental shortcuts or “schemas.” They allow our brains to process social situations quickly without overwhelming us with information. While these shortcuts are useful, they can also lead us to oversimplify the people around us - and sometimes ourselves!

Over time, I’ve noticed that the way we view others and the world around us affects how strongly we feel that we belong. Everyone looks at others through the lens of their own experiences. For those of us who feel like imposters in new situations, it’s easy to imagine everyone else as people who “have it all figured out.” That becomes our placeholder impression.

This kind of thinking is often made worse by isolation from other people’s experiences. When we don’t talk to others, we fill in the gaps ourselves, and we usually assume the worst about our own place in the room. 

But all hope is not lost. The solution is surprisingly simple: talking. 

Talking to people simplifies what we often overcomplicate; it reveals that everyone has their own struggles. The person who seems confident might be just as afraid to try something new as you are. Maybe they step forward because they once let opportunities slip away and don’t want to repeat that mistake. Or maybe they push themselves because opportunities were once rare, and they’ve learned to treat each one like something precious. 

Fear doesn’t disappear. But when we understand why something matters, the idea of trying – despite that fear – starts to make sense.

Once we recognize these fears and give them names, they become easier to face. Even more powerful is realizing that these fears aren’t yours alone to carry. Many of the people around you are quietly carrying the same ones. 

Sometimes, the only thing separating us from realizing that is a conversation. 

Which brings me back to my original point: never judge a book by its cover; the real story lies in the pages we take the time to read. 

By Ayesha Khan

The post More Than First Impressions appeared first on LA&PS Newsroom.

“She's brilliant…and beautiful��too!”��The��surprise in the voice. The��too. As if intelligence and a good face are two prizes that��weren't��supposed to land in the same pair of hands.��

As with a lot of manufactured binaries, we've been trained to see beauty and brains as black or white, as a zero-sum game. But what I find interesting about this one in particular is that we only play this game with women. 

The��“beautiful but dumb”��and��“brilliant but plain”��archetypes��didn't��come from nowhere—they��were constructed. Sociologist Catherine Hakim's work on erotic capital sparked serious debate in academic circles because it forced a conversation people weren't comfortable having:��that attractiveness��operates��as a social currency, and when women hold that currency alongside intellectual authority, the cultural response has usually been suspicion.��Think of the femme fatale: she uses her looks��instead��of her mind, which conveniently makes her dangerous and dismissible at once. Think of the bluestocking: too serious for vanity, therefore unsexed and safe. Two archetypes, one function: to��contain��her, whichever way she goes.��

Run the male version of this experiment. A sharp-dressed, conventionally attractive male professor walks into a lecture hall. Nobody questions whether he prepared. A male CEO who's physically fit isn't described as prioritizing his absover his balance sheet. The beauty-brains tension simply does not activate for men the way it does for women, and that asymmetry is the tell. 

Psychologists call the underlying mechanism the what is beautiful is good stereotype, which is the well-documented tendency to attribute positive traits to attractive people. But research shows this halo effect operates differently by gender. For men, attractiveness tends to reinforce perceptions of competence. For women, it can actually undercut them, particularly in high-status or intellectual contexts. Beauty, for women, becomes evidence of something—just not always intelligence. 

This isn't ancient history either.  

In 2015, software engineer Isis Wenger was featured in a recruiting ad for her tech firm, and the internet's immediate response was that she looked “too attractive” to be a real engineer. The ad was genuine. She was a real engineer. But the disbelief was the story that moved.  

It shows up in politics too, and rarely more clearly than in 2021 when Kamala Harris became the first woman ever elected Vice President of the United States. To mark the moment, Vogue ran a cover, but not the one Harris's team had agreed to. Instead of the powder blue power suit shot, the magazine ran a casual, poorly lit photo of her in sneakers. Washington Post critic Robin Givhan wrote that Vogue had “robbed Harris of her roses,” calling the image “overly familiar,” a cover that, in effect, called her by her first name without invitation. The detail that makes this worse: Harris had reportedly dressed herself down on purpose, anticipating that anything too polished would be called elitist. She played the game. She still lost. 

A fashion student at Montclair State put it plainly when analyzing Harris's signature pantsuit uniform: “Her appearance would come into focus if she wore dresses or skirts. Her body, makeup, hair, all of that would come into question.” The pantsuit, in other words, was armour. A calculation her male colleagues never have to make. 

And it's all around us. It's the girl in your class who deflects compliments on her work with jokes about her appearance or downplays her appearance in academic spaces because she's learned — somewhere — that she'll be taken more seriously if she does. It's the girl who removes her acrylic nails before a job interview, not because they get in the way of anything, but because she's been told, directly or otherwise, that they send the wrong message about how serious she is. It's the girl who keeps two separate Instagram accounts: one for her work, one for everything else, because she already knows that being visibly pretty and visibly accomplished in the same space invites a kind of scrutiny men posting the same content simply don't face. 

Women don't just receive this framework. They internalize it. That's how effective it is.  

Here's the thing about a no-win setup: the point was never to be won. If a woman is beautiful, her intellect is a surprise. If she's visibly intellectual, her femininity becomes a footnote or a loss. The “paradox” of beauty and brains was never a paradox. All it was was a sorting mechanism, designed to ensure that no matter which direction a woman moved, she could be reduced. 

The question “Is she pretty or smart?” was never really about her. It's about the discomfort of a woman who refuses to be one thing. 

And once you see it framed that way, the question starts to sound less like an observation and more like an admission. 

So, the next time someone says, “she's got beauty and brains!” with that particular brand of surprise dressed up as a compliment, you don't need a lecture ready. You don't need a dissertation. You just need what Elle Woods gave us twenty-something years ago, walking out of Harvard Law with a 4.0 and a courtroom win: 

“What, like it's hard?” 

By Yetunde "Abeni" Ojebola

Yetunde is a fourth-year Political Science major at 91��ɫ and a writer drawn to the space where culture, gender, and identity collide. She's currently working on a young adult novel set between Lagos and Toronto: a story of family, displacement, and becoming, told in a voice rooted in Nigerian vernacular and the quiet weight of what goes unsaid. Her writing favors the implicit over the obvious, trusting readers to feel what her characters won't name. On TikTok, she's Bits of Bibi, digital proof that disciplined and pretty aren't competing storylines. She writes Study Femme, a Sunday Substack for the girl who refuses to choose between the library and living the life.

The post Pretty or Smart? The Question We Only Ask Women appeared first on LA&PS Newsroom.

Two Worlds, One Schedule

Balancing dance and university means Kaia’s days rarely slow down. Most mornings begin early with meal preparation and packing for the day ahead. Alongside textbooks and school materials, she brings dance gear, including heels used in rehearsals and performances. After attending classes at Schulich, she often spends time between lectures studying or completing assignments before heading downtown for rehearsals. The commute itself, about an hour, becomes another opportunity to multitask. Kaia sometimes listens to recorded lectures or prepares choreography for other teaching and dance jobs while driving. Rehearsals typically last around three hours, during which dancers may learn one or two full routines in a single evening, sometimes performing them the very next day at a game. Even after rehearsal ends, the night is rarely over. Additional training sessions help maintain the physical conditioning required to perform consistently at a professional level. By the time Kaia finally drives home, it is often past midnight. Only then does she finish any remaining schoolwork before preparing for the next day, sometimes waking up just hours later for an early lecture. “It’s basically two full-time worlds,” she says. The contrast between those worlds is significant. Business school is highly structured, with clear professional expectations and long-term career planning. The dance industry, by comparison, moves quickly and unpredictably. Schedules can change week by week, and networking often happens through collaboration rather than formal professional settings. Learning to navigate both environments has required Kaia to adapt her communication style, priorities, and daily routines depending on where she is.

Image and Gender Expectations

Performance is only one part of being a professional dancer. Image also plays an important role, particularly in an industry where casting decisions often consider aesthetics and branding alongside skill. Rather than being purely restrictive, these expectations can also shape how dancers develop confidence and professionalism over time. For female dancers especially, appearance becomes closely tied to opportunity, but it can also encourage a heightened awareness of presentation and self-expression. Kaia explains that as dancers transition into adulthood, they learn to embody a more polished and intentional version of themselves that aligns with industry standards. As a Raptors ‘North Side Crew’ dancer, she also represents the organization as a brand ambassador, requiring her to maintain a professional and composed image both in person and online. Over time, these expectations have translated into personal growth beyond dance. “I’m definitely more mindful now about how I carry myself,” she says, explaining that the role has helped her become more confident, improve her communication skills, and present herself in a more mature and professional way in everyday life, from how she interacts with new people to even small details like posture and styling.

Skills People Overlook

Kaia believes the discipline required to succeed in dance develops skills that extend far beyond the studio. Professional dancers build strong time-management habits, resilience, creativity, and physical awareness. The training also strengthens memory and coordination, as dancers must quickly learn and retain complex choreography. Dance communities also foster collaboration and support networks that help performers grow both professionally and personally. “Most dancers who succeed in this industry are incredibly disciplined,” Kaia says.These skills, she argues, are often overlooked by people outside the field. 

By Macey Misa

Macey Misa is a fourth-year student in Law and Society & Criminology with a strong interest in equity, media, and professional industries. Alongside her academic work, she is involved in 91��ɫ's Women in Law Association as VP of Marketing. She brings a critical, interdisciplinary perspective to her writing, exploring how industries like dance intersect with professionalism, identity, and legal studies.

The post Labour, Education and Image in Professional, Industry & NBA Dance appeared first on LA&PS Newsroom.

My mother has always told me, “Your face is your passport.” When I was younger, I didn’t fully understand what she meant. Now I do. The way you present yourself is often the first thing people register about you. It’s not the full story. It’s not your intelligence, your values, or your work ethic. But it’s the introduction. 

And whether we like it or not, human beings are wired to read introductions quickly. 

We notice details. A wrinkled blazer. Colours that clash. Clothes that look rushed. We also notice when someone looks put together, not perfect, not expensive, just intentional. These observations aren’tnecessarily about judging someone’s worth. They’re about how our brains process information. We read visual cues automatically. 

But here’s what really interests me: it’s not just about how others see us. It’s about how we feel. 

There is something real that happens when you put on an outfit that makes you feel confident. Not something trendy. Not something someone else told you to wear. Something that feels aligned with you. You stand a little straighter. You walk differently. You feel lighter. Bolder. Freer. 

It’s subtle, but it’s powerful. 

When you don’t feel good in what you’re wearing, part of your mind stays distracted. You adjust your sleeves. You question your choice. You feel slightly off. But when you feel confident in your outfit, that internal noise quiets down. Your energy can go toward speaking clearly, thinking critically, and engaging fully. 

As a Political Science student moving through academic and professional spaces, I’ve noticed this difference firsthand. Presentations feel less intimidating. Networking events feel more manageable. Even ordinary days feel more structured when I feel well-dressed. It doesn’t mean I suddenly become more intelligent. It means I feel more ready to express the intelligence I already have. 

And that matters. 

Being educated is essential. Knowledge builds competence. Hard work builds skill. But how we carry ourselves also influences how confidently we share those abilities. For me, being well-dressed and well-educated at the same time feels like a powerful combination. One strengthens the mind. The other strengthens the presence. 

I’m not saying clothing defines value. It doesn’t. A person’s worth has nothing to do with brands, price tags, or perfection. And not everyone has the same access, taste, or priorities, and that’s completely valid. But within whatever space we occupy, we all have some level of choice in how we present ourselves. And that choice can shape how we feel walking into a room. 

So, is clothing just symbolic? I don’t think so. 

It won’t solve your problems. It won’t guarantee success. But when you’re dressed in a way that makes you feel confident, you don’t just look ready, you feel ready. And sometimes that feeling is exactly what pushes you to speak up, take initiative, or face something you were nervous about. 

Maybe that’s the real power of clothing. It doesn’t change who you are. 
But it reminds you of who you already are. 

By Ruthneldha Attilus

My name is Ruthneldha Attilus. I am a Political Science student interested in law and fashion, two worlds that might seem different, but that both shapes how we present ourselves. I pay close attention to how clothing affects confidence, presence, and the way we navigate everyday situations, from classrooms to professional spaces. I hope you enjoy reading the blog. Stay confident!" 

The post Dressed in Power appeared first on LA&PS Newsroom.

I began to understand that transformation while working with immigration files in Toronto. The individuals whose cases cross my desk rarely lack experiences that matter. What they often lack is the form through which those experiences become recognizable to the system tasked with evaluating them. Documents must corroborate testimony. Affidavits must give narrative structure to memory. Details that appear incidental in conversation must be situated precisely within the legal reasoning that governs an administrative decision. Only once these elements cohere does a file attain the internal clarity that allows an institution to respond. Until then the experience remains present yet strangely unacknowledged, suspended beyond the reach of procedural recognition.   

Translation adds another layer to this delicate process. Working as a Farsi and English interpreter has made clear that language carries more than vocabulary. Within a single phrase resides on cultural assumptions, emotional registers, and subtle implications that resist simple equivalence. When testimony moves from one language into another, the interpreter's task involves preserving the internal architecture of meaning so that the institutional record reflects what a speaker intended rather than merely the words that happened to be spoken. A statement that survives translation with its meaning intact retains its authority within the file. A statement rendered carelessly may acquire an unintended ambiguity, whose consequences extend far beyond the moment in which it was uttered.   

Over time, these experiences altered the way I perceive institutions more broadly. Administrative systems depend upon structures that allow them to process vast numbers of individual circumstances without collapsing into arbitrariness. They rely on categories, documentation, and standards of proof that transform lived situations into forms capable of evaluation. Within these structures sincerity alone rarely suffices. Institutions respond to clarity, coherence, and evidentiary integrity. Learning how those elements interact becomes a form of institutional literacy that is seldom taught explicitly yet shapes outcomes in profound ways.  

University life offers its own version of this lesson. Students often encounter academic petitions, funding appeals, internship applications, and research opportunities that appear initially bewildering in their procedural expectations. Success within these systems rarely depends on possessing a more compelling experience than others. It depends on presenting that experience in a form that the institution recognizes as meaningful. Once the logic of the process becomes visible, what previously appeared impenetrable begins to resemble a language that can be learned. 

My academic work at 91��ɫ has deepened this reflection by revealing how legal systems attempt to translate complex social realities into structured forms of remedy. A directed reading on Canadian class action litigation under Professor Raymond Bazowski introduced me to the intricate mechanisms through which diffuse harms are gathered into collective claims capable of judicial resolution. Courts cannot absorb the full moral texture of every social injury. They rely on procedures that render widespread experiences legible within the architecture of law. The same transformation that occurs within an immigration affidavit or an interpreted statement reappears at the scale of national legal institutions.  

Beyond formal legal contexts, I have encountered similar dynamics through community work assisting newcomers as they navigate unfamiliar administrative systems. Completing housing applications, employment forms, and educational documents may appear mundane from a distance. Yet within these seemingly ordinary tasks lies the gradual restoration of agency. Once individuals understand how institutions interpret information and which details carry institutional authority, they gain the ability to articulate their circumstances in ways that institutions can acknowledge. A document completed with clarity can open pathways that confusion once obscured.  

Reflecting on these experiences has convinced me that many of the most consequential forms of advocacy occur far from public attention. They unfold quietly in the careful drafting of an affidavit, in the patient clarification of a translated sentence, or in the guidance offered to someone encountering a complex administrative system for the first time. Such moments rarely appear dramatic, yet they determine whether institutions perceive a situation with the precision required to act.  

Students who aspire to careers in law, policy, or public service often imagine that institutional change begins with grand arguments or sweeping reforms. Those ambitions possess undeniable importance, yet the daily functioning of institutions depends equally upon the quieter craft of rendering experience intelligible within procedural frameworks. Learning to work within that craft does not diminish the complexity of human life. Instead, it ensures that life can travel far enough through institutional channels to be recognized. 

In the end, the distance between experience and evidence remains one of the most revealing spaces within modern institutions. Within that distance stories acquire the structure that allows them to matter. Documents become vessels through which lives are interpreted. Language itself becomes a bridge between the immediacy of experience and the deliberate reasoning through which institutions arrive at judgment.  

Understanding this transformation has altered the way I move through institutions that once appeared remote and inscrutable. Their procedures no longer resemble impersonal machinery so much as a language whose grammar slowly reveals itself to those who work within it. Files accumulate meaning through careful attention. Testimony acquires durability once its phrasing can travel intact across translation and record. What begins as lived memory gradually takes on the structure required for recognition. Within that quiet movement, a story crosses an invisible threshold. It leaves the fragile territory of recollection and enters the durable architecture of evidence, where institutions finally possess the vocabulary to hear it. 

By Ainaz Raiszadeh

Ainaz Raiszadeh is a writer and legal researcher pursuing a double major in Political Science and Law & Society at 91��ɫ. Her work examines how legal institutions shape questions of housing, displacement, and inequality. She has published in The Oracle and Muses of Justice and is engaged in grassroots legal advocacy with immigrant and low-income communities in Toronto. Born and raised in Iran, her writing reflects on the meeting point between lived experience and the institutions that attempt to govern it. 

The post The Quiet Work of Making a Story Legible appeared first on LA&PS Newsroom.

Freelancing: Cash on your Skills (without leaving bed) 

If you can write, design, code, edit, or even meme well–there is someone out there who will pay for it, set up shop on Fiverr, Upwork, or even post on Instagram. Whether it is writing captions or designing logos, freelancing = money + chill. 
Low effort tip: Use templates, batch your work, and reuse your best pieces in a quick online portfolio (Notion is your bestie here). 

Tutoring: Be the Chill Smart Friend Everyone Needs 

If you understand a subject just a little better than the other person, congrats–you qualify. You do not need to be a genius–just one step ahead. I used to help my classmates before finals (because, let us be honest, we were all confused). I realized I could turn tutoring into a gig. Post in your university discords or course group chats–people will pay for a calm explanation over a boring lecture any day.  
Bonus: you are revising without even trying. 

NFTs: The Monkey Business That is Actually Teaching Us Something

Do you remember those funky pixelated monkeys that sold for more than your rent? Welcome to the world of NFTs (Non-Fungible Tokens). While the buzz had slowed, NFTs gave creatives—artists, designers, even meme-makers—a new way to earn from digital work using blockchain technology, a secure, decentralized system that records ownership and transactions. Users can buy, sell, and trade these digital assets directly, without needing an intermediary. That Bored Ape Yacht Club—cartoon monkeys that turned into million-dollar assets. 
You do not need to be a crypto enthusiast, but if you are into art or technology, it is worth exploring. Worst case, you learn about smart contracts and digital ownership—skills that are shaping the future. Who knows, your side hustle might just live on the blockchain. 

Learn-and-earn 

I know blockchain and banking sound scary, but trust me, once you dive in, it is not that deep. I took time to understand digital finance basics through YouTube and some free courses, now I feel so in control. Sites like RabbitHole and Layer3 pay you in crypto to complete small tasks–try one while you are bored on break. 
Some platforms now pay students to learn and contribute. Sites like Gitcoin, Questbook, or Odyssey in the Web3 World offer micro-grants and bounties for completing blockchain-related tasks or writing research.  
Even traditional platforms like Coursera and edX now partner with universities or job boards to provide certified, free courses in high demand areas like: 

• Data Analysis
• UI/UX design 
• Cloud computing 
• Financial literacy 
• Blockchain basics (crypto is confusing–but employers love tech-savvy students)

Be that Content Creator (Gen Z’s Favourite Job Title) 

If you are already on TikTok or Instagram for 24/7, make it work for you. You can review products, share your university life, talk about being in clubs, etc. I once posted a short recap of my club’s event and boom–next thing I knew, people were asking to collab for events.  
Brands love student creators who can authentically connect with other students. Start with UGC (User-Generated Content) or become a brand ambassador for student-focused companies.  
Also, do not sleep on YouTube. Starting a channel might feel intimidating, but even a casual university vlog can build a loyal audience. You do not even need to show your face—faceless channels like study timers, aesthetic montages, voiceovers, or slideshows are totally a thing. Even better—ad revenue lasts as long as people are watching. It is passive income in its purest form. 

Resell = closet cleanout + money 

You all must have that one hoodie you wore once and then ghosted or your first-year textbooks collecting dust; sell them! Use apps like Depop, Poshmark, and Facebook Marketplace to sell your stuff. 
Pro tip: Try flipping items. Buy underpriced gems from Facebook Marketplace or thrift stores, then resell them for profit. It is not just about cash—it is a crash course in pricing, customer psychology, negotiation, and even marketing. Basically, you are becoming a mini entrepreneur without the scary business class. 

Campus jobs

There are many on campus jobs postings on the YU Hire website for students: working at the library desk, becoming a peer mentor, or helping in administration duties. I did orientation volunteering, Coffee Chats, and even helped organize events—some were paid, some were not, but ALL those experiences helped me to strengthen my resume and gave me recommendation letters. 
Working at the library, gym, or front desk = money for just showing up. The campus jobs have their own perks like flexible hours, close to class, you can study and get paid. 

Virtual Assistant Gigs – Work While Watching Netflix 

If you like lists, planning events, or organising chaos–being a Virtual Assistant is such an underrated gem. I used Notion to plan events for my clubs and later used the same format for a small business client. 
You can template it once and reuse it forever. 
Apps to know: Notion, Google Drive, Canva. Easy to learn. These applications are a big flex on your resume.

Start your own thing: Campus CEO in making

Have a small business idea? Do not wait till graduation–start now. Whether it is making jewellery, print on demand, running a food delivery page for your dorm, or offering photography services, side hustles can easily start as small experiments. Use Instagram, Canva, and Linktree to build your brand presence. You might even qualify for student entrepreneurship funding or competitions at your university.

Volunteering & Clubs–Resume level up with vibes 

Some gigs do not pay in cash, but the resume glow-up is real. Join clubs, plan events, volunteer at fairs, or run for a chill executive position. You will gain experience, make connections, and score some free food along the way. 
The long game: These roles look fire on applications—and teach you more than just what is in class. 

Bonus: Banking, Budgeting & Being Smart with Your Money 

No side hustle talk is complete without a quick finance plug. If you are making money, you got to know how to keep it. I track my spending and set mini savings goals–even just $10 a week. Learn the basics of budgeting and investing, it is literally free online, and future you will thank you. Whether you are earning $50 or $500, managing your money is the adulting move. Learn how to: 

• Track your spending (try YNAB, Monzo, or Spendee) 
• Set savings goals (even $5 a week counts) 
• Understand student credit cards and bank accounts 
• Dip your toes into investing or crypto (carefully!) 
  Financial literacy is a side hustle in itself–except the returns last forever.  

Alright, future side hustle royalty—we have covered a lot, but this is just the tip of the Wi-Fi connected iceberg. Whether you are flipping hoodies, filming faceless YouTube videos, or peer mentoring, university is the time to test the waters. If none of these clicked, there is still an entire world to explore, digital products (templates, planners, or guides–super low overhead, high profit potential) and affiliate marketing (link something once, earn forever). Go ahead—do a little Googling. The internet is free (unlike your tuition), and who knows? Your next scroll could be your next stream of income. 

Now go hustle smart, stay hydrated, and remember, your side hustle does not have to be perfect, it just has to start.  

By Bani Galhotra

Hi! My name’s Bani Galhotra, currently in my sophomore year and I run on iced coffees & chaotic to-do lists. I’m an IT student who, when not writing, can usually be found in the breakroom, building a Notion dashboard I’ll abandon in two weeks, crafting a new playlist instead of doing assignments, or taking aesthetic pics to feed my pinterest obsession. I’ve mastered the art of looking productive in cafés and believe no problem is too big that a well-timed meme can’t fix. Welcome to my corner of the internet—where the mess gets a little more manageable.

The post The Hustler’s Manifesto: Side Gigs as a University Student �� appeared first on LA&PS Newsroom.

I vividly remember one evening while studying for my Grade 10 exams, overwhelmed by everything I was carrying inside. It was late at night, my notes spread across the desk, when I reached for a pen instead of my textbook. Without thinking much, I began to write whatever came to my mind. I felt lighter, as if I had finally shared what I had been holding in. The unevenly filled paper, crowded with words, listened without interrupting, questioning, or offering solutions. It simply held my thoughts. For the first time, I felt listened to even when I was alone. At the time, I didn’t realize that writing was quietly helping me declutter my mind and process emotions I had been afraid to show the world. 

Writing slowly became my nightly ritual. It helped me become more aware of myself by recognizing patterns in my thoughts and learning to name my emotions rather than avoid them. Over time, I noticed my habitual reactions and began to gently break away from some of them. Instead of immediately spiraling after a disappointing day or reacting defensively, I learned to write first to understand what I was actually feeling before responding. There was something quietly powerful about discovering a practice that allowed me to pause. Writing gave me a new narrative, one where I was no longer simply reacting to life but learning how to respond. Through writing, I came to understand early on that my reactions are my responsibility. 

By changing my narrative, I shifted my perspective. I began to see myself as the main character of my own story not perfect, but confident, capable, and growing. This is the story I wanted to share: not one of having everything figured out, but of finding a tool that helped me take control of how I move through the world. Writing may not be for everyone, but for me, it became a way to step back from living on the edge of my thoughts. In writing, I learned what it means to take back the pen and decide where the story goes next.

By Simranjit Kaur

Simranjit Kaur is a Bachelor of Commerce (Accounting) student at 91��ɫ who discovered writing as a way to better understand herself and the world around her. Her work explores personal growth, emotional awareness, and the power of taking ownership of one’s story. 

The post Where My Thoughts Learned to Rest appeared first on LA&PS Newsroom.

My name’s Bani Galhotra, and I am here to keep it real with you–student to student. I am currently a second year Information Technology major at 91��ɫ and along the way, I’ve worn a few hats: I became President of SIAY (Student Impact Alliance at 91��ɫ) and a student-led initiative in my first year (yep, threw myself in early), where I led projects like a campus-wide clothing drive for university students and the 'Feeding the People' initiative; I took on director roles in some of the well-known student organizations at 91��ɫ and dabbled in programs for newcomers. Long story short? I have seen the behind-the-scenes of university life, and I know how much pressure there is to do it all. 

University can feel like a whirlwind. One minute you are pumped about a new course or project, and the next you are staring down a mountain of deadlines, wondering if sleep is even a thing anymore. Trust me, I have been there, procrastinating and then scrambling to finish assignments at 3 a.m., thinking, “Why didn’t I start earlier?” What I have learned is: Success at university is not just about non-stop grinding or ticking off every single to-do task. It is about balance; it is about carving out space for yourself amidst all the chaos. 

There are so many things I wish someone had pulled me aside and said in first year. For instance, “Hey, you don’t need to join every club to prove you’re involved,” “Resting is productive too,” and so on. I learned the hard way, burnout is not a badge of honour, it is just exhausting. In my second year, I was everywhere and nowhere at the same time–running events, going to classes, and trying to keep up with friends. Yet, I still felt like I was not enough. That kind of thinking–eats you alive. 

So, here is my first tip: prioritize what truly matters to you. It is easy to get caught up in FOMO or compare your journey to others, but your path is yours. That might mean pouring into a few meaningful clubs that genuinely interest you instead of trying to do it all or protecting time for a hobby that recharges you rather than burning out chasing constant productivity. 

Remember that growth is messy. You will stumble; you will have days where motivation is nowhere to be found, and that is okay. Progress is not always linear. Celebrate the small wins—the essays you survived, the presentations you nailed, the friendships you built. These moments add up. 

One of the best lessons I have learned: Quality over quantity. The roles and events that pushed me forward were the ones I genuinely cared about—not the ones I did just to “fill the resume.” When I stopped chasing clout and started showing up for things that aligned with who I was (or who I wanted to be), everything started to click. I gained confidence not just in what I was doing, but in who I was becoming. 

And confidence? It is not something you just wake up with, it comes in waves. Some days, I felt like that girl, other days, imposter syndrome had me doubting everything. What helped most was realizing that no one has it all figured out—not even the people who seem like they do on Instagram. Confidence is showing up even when you are unsure. Do not wait to feel 100% ready—you will wait forever. 

Some tips were total game changers like time blocking. It is boring at first, but once I started planning my week with colour-coded blocks (yes, I am that girl now), I stopped feeling like I was constantly behind. Another thing that worked for me was asking for help. Whether it was going to office hours (nerve-wracking at first but worth it) or texting a friend to explain that one lecture I mentally blacked out in—asking for help made everything lighter. 

Now, what did not work? Forcing productivity 24/7. I used to feel guilty anytime I was not studying or working on something, but all that does is turn you into a robot. Some of the best university memories I have were not in lecture halls—they were in the Breakroom playing pool with my friends, in cafés talking about life, in late-night walks after stressful exams, or during club events that made me forget about grades for a while. Therefore, take breaks, binge watch, go to random paint night; do activities that rejuvenate your battery. 

Now, let us talk about networking—yes, it is slightly scary but totally necessary part of university life. It is not just about handing out business cards or LinkedIn adding sprees. It is about building real connections with people who get what you are about, whether that’s classmates, professors, or that one person you met in the library who is into the same hobby as you. Networking can open doors you did not even know existed—internships, job offers, collaborations, or just a mate to bounce ideas off. Here is the secret: it is not about collecting contacts, but about showing up, being genuine, and supporting each other. So, do not wait for a formal event—start chatting in clubs, during lectures, or even over coffee. Your future self will thank you. 

Let us talk about passion—the stuff that makes you light up when you talk about it, even if most people do not quite get why you care so much. Whether it is art, coding, dance, writing, fashion, or even crafting the perfect Notion dashboard; your passion deserves your time and energy. However, here is a plot twist: giving your best does not mean giving everything. You do not need to grind 24/7 or monetize it to prove it matters. Some things are valuable just because they bring you joy. 

We all feel demotivated sometimes—even when we are doing something we love. I have had weeks where I did not touch a single project, skipped meetings I was excited for, or just stared at my screen like... “meh.” That does not make you lazy, it makes you human. Passion is not always fireworks—sometimes it is a quiet spark that flickers, waits, and comes back stronger. The key is not giving up just because it does not feel magical all the time. 

One thing that surprisingly helped me was, touching grass. I did not realize how much I needed to unplug until I started taking nature walks—no phone, no headphones, just vibing and listening birds chirping. Connecting with nature cleared my head more than any productivity app ever could. Sometimes the most powerful reset is just getting outside and reminding yourself that the world is bigger than deadlines and DMs. 

Now, let us talk about the most underrated duo: self-care and academics. People act like they are on opposite ends of the spectrum—like you can either be that mysterious, candle-lit, matcha-sipping soft girl OR the grind-till-I-collapse library warrior. Spoiler alert: you can (and should) be both. 

Here is the thing that no one says enough: your body and mind are the real MVPs of your university journey. You cannot pour from an empty cup—caffeine is not a long-term solution (I have tried). Self-care is not just face- masks—it is eating real meals, moving your body, drinking water, and booking that counselling session even if it feels scary. I have powered through semesters with no sleep, high stress, and smile glued on—trust me, it catches up. Taking care of yourself is not slacking, it is choosing longevity over burnout. When you feel good, everything else just works better. 

Now let us talk academics—because marks do matter… but not more than you. There is so much pressure to “perform”—to get that 4.0, land internships, and collect awards like Infinity Stones. Hard work is key, but your GPA does not define your worth. That said, do not neglect your studies like I did when my GPA took a hit in second year. I have had plenty of “study sessions” that were just scrolling marathons followed by last-minute cramming. Spoiler: it does not work. 

What does is starting small, staying consistent, and finding study methods that click—flashcards, tutoring a friend, or even a plant (no judgment). Show up for yourself, even when you do not feel like it. The small efforts add up. Remember, grades are not your whole identity. You can mess up, restart, and grow at your own pace. Study for your growth, not just the grade—and that mindset shift is everything. 

Conclusion? Making university life “worth it” is not about being perfect—it is about being present. Try new things. Fail. Learn. Pivot. You are not supposed to have your five-year plan figured out. Honestly, you are doing amazing just by showing up and trying. 

By Bani Galhotra

Hi! My name’s Bani Galhotra, currently in my sophomore year and I run on iced coffees & chaotic to-do lists. I’m an IT student who, when not writing, can usually be found in the breakroom, building a Notion dashboard I’ll abandon in two weeks, crafting a new playlist instead of doing assignments, or taking aesthetic pics to feed my pinterest obsession. I’ve mastered the art of looking productive in cafés and believe no problem is too big that a well-timed meme can’t fix. Welcome to my corner of the internet—where the mess gets a little more manageable.

The post University Unfiltered: What the Brochures Do not Tell You appeared first on LA&PS Newsroom.