Sarah Flicker, professor and 91亚色 Research Chair in Community-Based Participatory Research in the , is the principal investigator on the project, titled "Theatre Making Impact (TMI): Scaling-Up a Youth-Led HIV Prevention Play Across Ontario." Shira Taylor, adjunct professor at 91亚色 and director of TMI, is co-applicant and the program's founder. The OHTN funding will support the next phase of the program's expansion across Ontario, extending its reach into urban centres and northern Indigenous communities where HIV rates remain disproportionately high.

TMI 鈥� formerly known as SExT, or Sex Education by Theatre 鈥� is a trauma-informed, culturally responsive not-for-profit that uses peer education and theatre, alongside music, dance, rap and poetry, to engage youth in open conversations about sexual health, HIV prevention, mental health and healthy relationships.

Taylor founded the program in 2014 in Toronto's Thorncliffe Park and Flemingdon Park neighbourhoods as part of her doctoral thesis, and later expanded it through a postdoctoral fellowship at 91亚色 in collaboration with Flicker. To date, it has reached more than 12,000 young people across Canada, with a focus on communities most affected by HIV 鈥� including newcomer, Indigenous and 2SLGBTQIA+ youth.

"I really wanted to build an evidence-based program that put the youth voice centre stage on these topics," says Taylor.

What sets TMI apart is how it delivers that education. Instead of pamphlets or classroom lectures, the program uses peer-led performance, humour and storytelling to model difficult conversations and build skills in a lower-stakes environment 鈥� one that engages young people both intellectually and emotionally.

鈥淟ack of awareness usually isn鈥檛 the reason people don鈥檛 use condoms," says Taylor. "There's a peer pressure element, there's an emotional element. Theatre is uniquely positioned to take into account our full humanity."

The program also benefits from an intergenerational model that, over the last decade, has deepened. Many of the original cast members who joined as high schoolers 鈥� initially, Taylor jokes, for the free pizza 鈥� have stayed on and trained as trauma-informed peer mentors. They now co-facilitate the program alongside a new generation of youth from the same community, sharing similar cultural backgrounds and immigration experiences.

The evidence from a recent Toronto District School Board (TDSB) tour, co-led by Taylor and Flicker and supported by a LaMarsh Centre for Child and Youth Mental Health Catalyst Grant at 91亚色, underscores the approach's impact. Across eight performances at five TDSB high schools, 61 per cent of student audience members reported improved sexual health knowledge, 49 per cent felt more confident managing their own sexual health and 46 per cent reported greater awareness of where to access HIV and STI testing.

Mental health outcomes were also significant: 49 per cent reported improved mental health knowledge, 44 per cent indicated feeling more comfortable seeking help and 41 per cent reported using new coping strategies.

While the student audience feedback provides crucial insights, the program鈥檚 impact extends beyond statistics. During a tour to an Indigenous community in Saskatchewan, a youth performer's rap about navigating her identity and her family's cultural expectations moved a young audience member to share a poem she had written but never shown anyone.

"She had it stuffed in the back of her locker," Taylor recalls. "She'd been too scared to share it publicly. And we all gathered around as this young Indigenous girl read us this poem. I still remember the words."

With OHTN support, the project will reach youth beyond Toronto by bringing performances to urban centres and northern and Indigenous communities across Ontario over the coming year.

Taylor and Flicker are thrilled that the award allows the program to continue to reach young people across the province.

"It's really validating how much impact arts-based approaches can have in this sector," says Taylor, "and how important it is to empower community-based, culturally responsive, trauma-informed programs around these topics, which has been historically lacking in sex education."

With files from Mzwandile Poncana

The post Funding expands arts-based HIV prevention program led by 91亚色 appeared first on YFile.

Colla, a former professor at the (EUC) and a founding member of 91亚色's Centre for Bee Ecology, Evolution and Conservation (BEEc), died in July 2025 at the age of 43. She was among the first scientists in North America to document the decline of wild bee populations, and her work contributed to the rusty-patched bumblebee being federally listed as an endangered species in both Canada and the U.S.

The garden, named "A Flower Patch for Sheila," grew from an idea rooted in Colla's own wishes: her obituary invited those seeking to honour her to plant a flower or tree native to where they live. Led by Laura Newburn of BEEc and Phyllis Novak of EUC, the pollinator garden at 91亚色 U was planted on World Bee Day, May 20, with 91亚色 colleagues and the broader community in attendance.

The choice of a native plant garden as a tribute was not incidental. Sandra Rehan, professor of biology and firector of BEEc, says Colla was as passionate about native plants as she was about native bees, and often pushed back against the focus on non-native species in the public and garden culture.

"She was a strong advocate for native biodiversity in all capacity," Rehan says. "By implementing and expanding on wildflower plantings to support wild bees, it's exactly the kind of thing she would have wanted."

The plants were chosen by current and former lab members, colleagues, collaborators and community members who knew both her science and her personal preferences: goldenrod, coneflower, asters, milkweed and flowering edible plants such as blueberries and raspberries.

Briann Dorin, a former PhD student and now postdoctoral researcher in Colla's lab, says the selection and layout reflect principles Colla spent her career advancing. Bloom times in the garden are staggered so bees have food from spring through fall, species are planted in clusters to support efficient foraging, and flower colours are varied to attract different bees.

"Every flower that was planted for Sheila is known to be pollinator-supporting for our native pollinators," Dorin says. "We designed the garden in a way that is based on the science for what pollinators like."

The Maloca Community Garden was a natural site for the tribute. Colla conducted research there with students and brought classes to the garden to connect them with living ecosystems beyond the lecture hall. The garden carries an Indigenous focus that resonated with her cross-disciplinary values, and was one of the sites connected to her collaboration with EUC professor Lisa Myers on the Finding Flowers project, which explored the intersections of ecology, Indigenous artistic practice and conservation.

The garden was funded by World Wildlife Fund-Canada, BEEc, EUC and the Natural Sciences and Engineering Research Council of Canada through a collaboration involving former members of Colla鈥檚 lab, colleagues and the wider 91亚色 community.

On June 25, from noon to 2 p.m., the garden will be acknowledged with a formal dedication during a public event co-hosted by BEEc and EUC. EUC Dean Alice Hovorka will speak, as will Victoria MacPhail, a longtime collaborator and former PhD student in Colla鈥檚 lab.

Other presenters include Myers and researchers from both BEEc and Colla's former lab. Topics will cover pollinator conservation, native plants and the intersection of art, ecology and Indigenous practices.

Rehan says the event is an opportunity for the public to learn how to support pollinators in their own spaces 鈥� from identifying local wild bees to choosing native plants and designing gardens that are ecologically useful and visually appealing. The event is open to the 91亚色 community and the public.

MacPhail says the tribute reflects what Colla herself would have valued: a living space that supports pollinators, educates the public and carries her work forward.

"This is a nice way to continue her legacy," MacPhail says. "By continuing to educate people, and share knowledge, enthusiasm and love for these creatures."

Colla鈥檚 work continues to shape bumblebee conservation through research, public education materials and the students she trained. BumbleBeeWatch.org, the community science initiative she co-founded in 2011, continues to track bumblebee sightings across the continent. And the Maloca garden, now planted, will keep flowering year after year.

Learn more about Colla and her work through the .

Visit A Flower Patch for Sheila for more information about the garden.

The post Native plant garden to honour Sheila Colla鈥檚 legacy as conservation scientist appeared first on YFile.

91亚色 alumna Randa Qashoa鈥檚 journey from the to a career advancing space technology highlights the growing impact of women in shaping the future of engineering.

Today, Qashoa (BEng 鈥�21, PhD 鈥�25) is a systems engineer at Honeywell Aerospace, where she works on the assembly, integration and testing of quantum communication payloads. While still early in her career, she is already contributing to technologies that could play an important role in the future of secure communications in space.

Her path into the industry was shaped by the people and opportunities she encountered at Lassonde.

"My experience at Lassonde was instrumental in helping me pursue a career in the space sector," Qashoa says. "The main driver was the wealth of experience in space engineering that Lassonde faculty carry."

Exposure to faculty-led research gave her firsthand insight into how engineering can tackle complex challenges and create meaningful impact beyond academia. Seeing professors lead innovative projects inspired her to pursue a career that contributes to advancements in the field.

That goal became reality when she joined Honeywell Aerospace 鈥� one of the world鈥檚 largest suppliers of aviation and defense systems. Among her proudest accomplishments is the opportunity to work on flight hardware that is planned for future operations in space.

Her experience also highlights the importance of mentorship and community in the study of engineering. Throughout her time at 91亚色, and now early in her career, she noticed she was often the only female on a project team or in a meeting. Rather than viewing this as a barrier, she stayed focused on contributing her skills and expertise while building a network of mentors and peers with shared experiences.

One of those mentors was Professor Regina Lee, who supervised Qashoa鈥檚 PhD studies and helped her navigate the transition from academia to industry.

That support, says Qashoa, provided valuable insight into the realities of the engineering workforce 鈥� and continued in a new way after graduation.

Through Honeywell Aerospace's mentorship program for women in engineering, she was paired with a more senior colleague who offers advice and career guidance.

Together, those experiences reinforced the value of strong support networks in helping women thrive in technical fields.

As more women enter engineering and space-related professions, Qashoa expects the industry to benefit from a wider range of perspectives and experiences. Increased diversity, she believes, will help drive innovation and bring new ideas to some of the sector's most complex challenges.

For students considering a future in space engineering, her message is simple: persevere.

鈥淢y advice to current students is to never give up no matter how impossible the challenge,鈥� she says. 鈥淓ven if you are the only woman on your team now, you are bringing something valuable to the table.鈥�

She encourages students to stay confident, embrace challenges and recognize the impact they can make. As the industry continues to evolve, she sees increasing opportunities for women to help shape the future of space exploration.

Her path from Lassonde to work in aerospace highlights how education, research and mentorship can shape careers in emerging areas of engineering 鈥� especially for women.

Watch Qashoa discuss her Lassonde experience and what it means to contribute to the future of the space sector.

The post From classroom to career: Lassonde alumna contributes to Canada's space sector appeared first on YFile.

At the 91亚色 Psychology Clinic, however, researchers and graduate students are working from a different premise: that understanding a child means understanding the family around them.

Heather Prime, a clinical psychologist and associate professor in the , is leading that effort with a team of graduate students.

At the clinic 鈥� a mental health care facility for families in the community and training centre for 91亚色鈥檚 emerging clinical psychologists 鈥� graduate students study family mental health while also engaging directly with clients. As part of their clinical training, the students deliver services and conduct supervised assessments with families.

PhD candidate Gillian Shoychet鈥檚 doctoral dissertation sits at the centre of this work: she is studying how to implement family assessments in a university clinic, using feedback from families to refine the model.

Their work, alongside researcher Maya Koven, is outlined in an published in JAMA Pediatrics which argues that family systems assessments remain underused in the care of older children and youth.

"The family system 鈥� all family members and the interactions between them 鈥� influences a child's development and mental health," says Shoychet. "Children's mental health does not exist in isolation."

The approach centres on the Lausanne Trilogue Play Paradigm, a structured assessment that originated in Lausanne, Switzerland. During the assessment, families complete tasks while clinicians film the sessions. In a follow-up meeting, clips are played back to the family and observations are discussed collaboratively.

"We don't say 鈥榟ere's what we learned, and here's what you need to do,鈥�" says Prime. "We say, 鈥榟ere's what we saw 鈥� how does that make sense to you?鈥�"

A key focus of this approach is the co-parenting relationship: the parenting team and how both caregivers work together to support their child. The team鈥檚 research states that this dimension is rarely examined in standard child mental health care, where assessments typically involve only one caregiver.

"We're interested in all those relationships that are co-occurring," says Shoychet. "Without observing all those different pieces, it's hard to get a full sense of the child in a holistic manner."

The assessment spans four sessions and concludes with a tip sheet compiled by the clinical team and a follow-up check-in. For some families, that is enough. For others, it becomes a roadmap 鈥� pointing toward individual therapy for the child, parental support or longer-term family therapy.

"It's really a broader systemic map of what services families might be able to access," says Prime.

Building that map required significant groundwork by Shoychet. With support from Koven and the graduate student team, Shoychet worked to merge two existing clinical manuals into a single program guide designed for the 91亚色 Psychology Clinic and its clinical, research and training teams.

"It takes a lot of time, a lot of attention to detail, a lot of patience,鈥� says Shoychet of that project. 鈥淎s a graduate student, I'm not just getting training to do this program 鈥� I'm supporting the implementation of it in my clinic, which is a very unique experience."

Graduate students are trained through a deliberate scaffolding approach. They begin by observing how Prime leads a case, then they work alongside her as co-therapists. Eventually, they take the lead themselves. Between sessions, the team gathers for group consultations 鈥� typically joined by collaborator Diane Philipp, a child psychiatrist at The Garry Hurvitz Centre for Community Mental Health at SickKids who was instrumental in bringing this training model to Canada.

"Even if the student isn't the primary clinician, students on the team can come watch, provide feedback and learn," says Shoychet. "It's a really beautiful learning opportunity."

Families are also active participants in shaping the program. Surveys provide meaningful feedback on time commitment, session satisfaction and whether families felt their clinician was supportive.

"We're not just evaluating outcomes," says Shoychet. "We're really trying to understand how the program works in this specific setting and what we need to change to meet the needs of the communities we serve."

"I actually get to see the value that this has for families and be part of changing it to make it more valuable," she adds. "That was one of my aspirations for coming into grad school."

Both Prime and Shoychet share the same vision for the program: to serve those in need while creating meaningful learning experiences for grad students.

Success would mean sustainable program, says Prime, characterized by ongoing training opportunities for graduate students to serve a continuous intake of families.

"We put so much heart and soul into this project," adds Shoychet. "I'm hopeful that people will know more about it."

With files from Mzwandile Poncana

The post Grad students take family approach to child mental health care appeared first on YFile.

And, that pressure is not limited to global and limited-time events. Across concerns, festivals and sports, getting through the venue gate has become a costly and frustrating experience for fans as tickets vanish instantly only to reappear at inflated prices.

Recent examples illustrate the scale of the problem. When Coldplay performed in Toronto in July 2025, fans watched seats disappear on Ticketmaster while waiting in online queues, only to reappear on resale sites for up to $1,600. During the Blue Jays鈥� World Series run later that year, game tickets surged from roughly $400 to $2,000 within hours.

The trend has proven significant enough that earlier this year the Ontario government stepped into the fight over soaring ticket prices.

鈥淲e鈥檙e putting ticket scalpers on notice: your days of ripping people off are done,鈥� Premier Doug Ford posted on social media, announcing the proposal of new consumer protections that would make it illegal to resell tickets above face value. The Putting Fans First Act, he proposed, would apply to any platform handling ticket sales 鈥� Ticketmaster, StubHub and SeatGeek, for instance 鈥� ending what he called the 鈥渄igital wild west.鈥�

For fans, the message resonated with feelings of being exploited 鈥� and not just by the resale market driving up the price of admission.

Pollstar reports that average ticket prices for the top 100 global concert tours rose from $96.17 in 2019 to $132.62 in 2025 鈥� an increase of nearly 38 per cent, compared to average inflation in Canada of about 21 per cent over the same period.

91亚色 scholars say that outrage over ticket prices touches something deeper 鈥� a marketplace built to capitalize on scarcity, not serve audiences. Their research on cultural economics and digital labour shows the real bottlenecks sit with the ticketing system itself, where platform algorithms feed the frenzy they claim to fix.

While policymakers continue to debate how to respond, there is no clear consensus on how to rein in costs without disrupting the system that funds live events.

Scalpers are part of the equation, but they are not the whole story. Large promotors, ticketing platforms, artists and even fans all play a role in sustaining the current model.

So what caused the market to move in this direction?

Markus Giesler, a professor of marketing at 91亚色鈥檚 and former music producer who studies how markets shape human behaviour, points to a shift in how the industry makes money.

Prior to the death of the CD and birth of streaming services like Spotify, concerts were largely viewed as a way to promote and support record sales. As streaming platforms reshaped the economics of music 鈥� where artists went from earning tangible revenues from CD sales to making a fraction of a penny per stream 鈥� touring and selling 鈥渕erch鈥� became the primary source of income for many artists.

Giesler says this shift in economics, paired with a growing popularity over the last decade of 鈥渟caled-up, social media-mediated, massive concert spectacles,鈥� also explains the rising cost of live entertainment.

鈥淭he industry noticed large festivals and live music events could be priced differently and be designed at a much larger scale,鈥� he says, noting the bigger the event, the higher the cost, which translates to more dollars in the pockets of artists.

His observation is backed by data from the American Economic Liberties Project, which shows touring rose from 82 per cent of artists鈥� income in 2010 to roughly 95 per cent in 2022.

However, as touring revenues increased, so did the complexity of how tickets are priced; artists, agents, event promotors, venues and ticketing companies all take a share. Promotors compete for tours based on projected sales, while players like Live Nation 鈥� the largest concert promoter worldwide that not only promotes shows, but also operates venues and owns Ticketmaster 鈥� can capture revenue at multiples stages of the transaction.

What this means in practice is that the same company can book the show, control the venue and manage ticket sales. Regulators in Canada and the U.S. are now scrutinizing that concentration of power, arguing it may limit competition and continue to drive up costs.

Within this system, ticket prices are set by the artist and their management team. Ticketing platforms sell those tickets on the venue鈥檚 behalf and add service fees. A 2019 Competition Bureau review found that, in Canada, those fees exceeded 20 per cent and, in some cases, reached 65 per cent of the original price.

Additional pricing tools have further influenced the market, including Ticketmaster鈥檚 鈥渄ynamic pricing鈥� model introduced in 2022. This tool 鈥� framed as a way to deter scalpers 鈥� adjusts prices in real time based on demand, and is widely used for large scale tours.

91亚色 economist Matthew Brzozowski, an associate professor at the Faculty of Liberal Arts & Professional Studies, says limiting resale markets does not eliminate financial risk 鈥� it shifts it.

The risk has to land somewhere, he says, noting if it cannot be absorbed through resale, it may show up as higher base prices, additional fees or premium tiers.

Those premiums increasingly are seen at the checkout as priority access, VIP packages and add-ons that resemble insurance.

Despite higher costs, demand remains strong. Researchers say the for many fans, live events can be tied to identity and belonging, making price sensitivity less predictable.

鈥淒esirability is the be-all-end-all,鈥� Giesler says. 鈥淲e have to get tickets... life is short. Everybody wants to go and everybody wants to be able to talk about it and post about it.鈥�

That dynamic helps explain why costs continue to soar. Even when fans recognize prices as excessive, the draw of shared cultural moments keeps them in the queue.

That kind of momentum is hard to break, even if dynamic pricing is outlawed or companies like Live Nation are taken to task.

鈥淎 fan鈥檚 identity has always been about devotion,鈥� Giesler says.

And increasingly, showing that devotion means paying the price.

With files from Andrew Seale鈥�

The post The rising cost of events: why fans are paying more for live entertainment appeared first on YFile.

In a historic first, Canada鈥檚 2026 long-form census asks respondents about their sexual orientation, adding vital demographic evidence to the mandatory survey used to guide public funding and infrastructure planning.

For Nick Mul茅, it is a shift that has been decades in the making.

"Many of us feel this is long overdue," says Mul茅, professor at 91亚色's and Faculty of Liberal Arts & Professional Studies. "I was one of many people who have been advocating for this, going back to the 1990s."

The question 鈥� which asks respondents to identify as heterosexual; lesbian or gay; bisexual or pansexual; or to write their own answers 鈥� appears on the long-form questionnaire sent to roughly 25 per cent of Canadian households. While Statistics Canada has collected sexual orientation data through smaller specialized surveys before, adding it to the census gives the findings a broader national reach and a different level of public visibility.

"The census is much larger. It goes right across Canada, and it's also mandatory," says Mul茅. "It lends legitimacy to these populations, raising their visibility."

But Mul茅 says visibility alone is not the point, and the more consequential argument is about evidence 鈥� and what its absence has cost.

When community organizations doing frontline work with 2SLGBTQIA+ populations have approached governments and funders to address their clients' needs, they have often been told the same thing: without data, resources cannot flow.

"The government acknowledges they believe you, that it probably is true there is a struggle out there, but asks us to give hard evidence," Mul茅 explains.

That evidence gap is central to Mul茅's research. He is project director of 2SLGBTQ+ Poverty in Canada: Improving Livelihood and Social Wellbeing, a 91亚色-hosted national study examining poverty among 2SLGBTQIA+ communities. Early findings from this project's national survey reflect what frontline workers have long reported: these populations face significant and compounding hardships.

Census evidence on sexual orientation could deepen that picture considerably. Mul茅 points to housing, health care, employment, education, income and social services as areas where 2SLGBTQIA+ people face disproportionate challenges due to discrimination, stigma and bias 鈥� barriers that differ meaningfully depending on life stage, from youth to seniors.

"Not everyone experiences those things the same way," he says. "It's important that those links are made between one's social location and the kind of challenges they're facing."

The categories included in the census question, Mul茅 says, are reasonable, and the write-in option is an important safeguard for those whose identity does not fit the options. He acknowledges, however, that open-ended responses create complexity on the research end, as analysts must decide how to group and interpret varied self-descriptions.

More pressing concerns involve privacy, trust and the particular vulnerability of young respondents. Many 2SLGBTQIA+ people have not made their sexual orientation public, and disclosing such information on a government form is considered risky by some.

Those ages 15 and older can fill out the long-form census; however, in most households, an adult who completes the form on behalf of all members. This raises concerns that younger individuals may not be accurately represented if adults are not aware of their sexual orientation.

"Those are some of the conundrums," Mul茅 says. "It's great on the one hand to include it, but Statistics Canada needs to be aware that there is a sensitivity attached to this when it comes to people's comfort level with disclosing this information."

Mul茅 frames the census change within a longer arc. Sexual orientation has long been protected under human rights legislation in every province and territory, and federally, for years. Yet, legal recognition has not brought an end to discrimination.

For Mul茅, having these communities counted in the census 鈥� and having that data inform policy, funding and services 鈥� is part of closing that gap.

"It really elevates the recognition and legitimacy of these groups in Canada," he says. 鈥淏y gathering data specific to the realities of 2SLGBTQIA+ communities, governments can get a clearer picture of what these communities are facing and what resources, supports and services are needed to equitably meet those needs.鈥�

With files from Mzwandile Poncana

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In recent years, accessibility and inclusion have gained growing attention across education, technology, design and policy. That shift has brought renewed focus to inclusive design, an approach that asks how courses are taught, technologies are built, research is conducted and systems are organized to account for a wide range of human needs.

For Desai, an associate professor at the (AMPD), the challenge is that inclusive design is often treated an issue to address later, rather than key factor that guides decisions from the beginning.

鈥淔rom my perspective, accessibility and inclusivity are often used as aspirational terms but not always treated as obligations that must shape design, teaching, research, policy and implementation from the beginning,鈥� she says.

Desai is working to create that shift through her teaching, research and a newly co-authored book to advance an approach that treats accessibility and inclusion as baseline responsibilities in any work that affects people.

A member of AMPD's Department of Design, she leads courses that examine how people interact with systems, environments and emerging technologies including AI, mixed reality and physical computing.

She asks students to consider who is included, who might be left out and how those decisions inform designs, and applies this approach directly in the classroom.

Rather than treating accessibility as an afterthought, she approaches courses as systems that can either create or reduce barriers. Her classes offer multiple ways for students to complete assignments and demonstrate learning, whether through speaking, making, sketching, prototyping or reflective documentation.

This approach, she says, allows barriers to be anticipated and addressed early, rather than treated only after a student encounters them.

鈥淎 student may not have a formal diagnosis, may not disclose a disability, or may be experiencing barriers that are temporary, technological or cultural,鈥� Desai says.

Beyond the classroom, this perspective extends into Desai's research. Her work focuses on developing technologies and systems that support a range of needs, particularly among older adults, people living with dementia, people with disabilities and communities that are underserved by conventional approaches.

Using participatory and co-design methods with those communities, she aims to understand how everyday practices, relationships and environments can enhance designing interventions. Those insights shape technologies that respond to people鈥檚 needs, rather than forcing users to fit to systems not designed around their needs.

鈥淚t means not simply recruiting people with disabilities or older adults as participants, but considering how they shape the research itself,鈥� she says.

Desai extends these ideas in a new co-authored book, , with colleagues whose research extends across accessibility, Deaf studies, education and technology. The book examines how inclusive design can be applied across teaching, research, business, policy and implementation.

The book responds to a common gap, she says: many people agree inclusion matters but lack guidance on how to apply it in practice, from running inclusive meetings to designing accessible research. In response, it presents examples for embedding equitability in different contexts, as compliance or usability requirements, but also as part of how systems are shaped.

鈥淧hrases such as 鈥榙esigning for accessibility鈥� can sometimes make accessibility sound like a specialized domain or a project-specific choice,鈥� Desai says. 鈥淭hey should be understood as baseline responsibilities in any work that affects people.鈥�

This perspective also reshapes how inclusive design is often evaluated. Accessibility is frequently framed in terms of compliance, usability testing or accommodation. These are important steps, she notes, but limited ones.

鈥淎ccessibility and inclusion should not depend on whether a particular designer, instructor, researcher or organization chooses to prioritize them,鈥� she says.

Compliance can show whether something meets a standard, and usability testing can show whether people can complete a task. But inclusive design, she argues, requires deeper consideration of who is included, who may be excluded and how systems enable participation.

This challenge is increasingly visible in the technologies Desai studies. Systems powered by AI, extended reality and other data-driven tools can reproduce exclusion when built on narrow assumptions or datasets. At the same time, they can support communication, memory, engagement and participation when designed with accessibility and lived experience from the start.

The issue, she says, is not whether these technologies are inclusive or harmful, but how they are designed, with whom, for what purpose and under what forms of accountability.

For Desai, the question of accountability extends beyond individual projects. 鈥淥ne unresolved issue is how inclusive design can be made mandatory without becoming reduced to minimum compliance. How do we create systems where accessibility is not optional, but also not treated as a checklist?鈥�

Across her teaching, research and collaborations, Desai is working to put that shift into practice, shaping how designers think, how technologies are built and how institutions approach accessibility and inclusion.

鈥淔or me, the most important shift is from thinking about inclusion as adaptation to thinking about it as responsibility,鈥� Desai says. 鈥淚nclusive design is not only about making things usable for more people. It's about recognizing diverse bodies, minds, experiences, cultures and ways of participating as central from the start.鈥�

The post Across teaching and research, 91亚色 prof advances inclusive design appeared first on YFile.

In a new video series titled Renaissance, two Black Canadians 鈥� one from the world of academia, the other from the arts, culture or community leadership sectors 鈥� sit down for an unscripted conversation about Black life in Canada.

The participants have no idea who they are about to meet.

The four-part video project is produced through a partnership between 91亚色鈥檚 Glendon College and SHIFTER, a Canadian media platform focused on Black culture, entertainment and community storytelling.

For Glendon, the project brings together alumni engagement, public storytelling and the campus's broader community engagement work. It marks the 100th anniversary of the Harlem Renaissance 鈥� the early 20th-century movement where Black intellectualism and Black culture converged 鈥� and uses the anniversary to explore Black cultural visibility in Canada today.

The partnership grew from an alumni connection: Kevin Bourne, SHIFTER's director and producer, is a Glendon graduate. After Glendon's communications team took notice of his work in journalism and entertainment, Bourne reconnected with the campus and collaborated on a 2023 written profile series spotlighting Black members of the Glendon community 鈥� students, professors, staff and alumni.

Renaissance grew from there.

"We always kind of had the idea that this will be the beginning of not just one collaboration but multiple collaborations," says Bourne.

For Glendon, Pascal Arseneau, executive director of strategic communications and community engagement, says the project reflects a word students often use to describe the campus: community.

"Glendon is special because of its capacity to create spaces for dialogue," he says. "People come from a variety of perspectives and places and manage to quickly form alliances, work on what brings them together, get involved in different causes, tackle challenges and seek out solutions together."

Arseneau says Glendon approached the project to connect several of its communities at once: current students, faculty, staff, alumni and wider audiences. By pairing Glendon-connected participants with community figures from outside the University, the series extends critical conversations into a broader public setting.

That emphasis on bringing together different perspectives also shaped the format of Renaissance. Glendon provided funding, studio space at the Glendon Theatre and a list of community members to participate. SHIFTER handled production and brought its own network of artists, creatives and community leaders. The pairings were intentional, but participants were not told in advance who they would meet 鈥� even on set. The two were kept apart until the cameras were rolling.

"It's in the place of spontaneity that potential collaboration can happen," says Bourne, adding several participants exchanged numbers after filming and spoke about staying in contact.

Bourne also says the team was conscious of Glendon's bilingual identity throughout. One of the four episodes is in French, a deliberate reflection of Glendon鈥檚 francophone community.

The first episode, now available , pairs Excellencia Bambi, a fourth-year psychology student at Glendon, with 4KORNERS, an international DJ and music producer. Their conversation ranges from the influence of Black artistry at the Juno Awards to whether visibility, gathering and institution-building are needed before Canada can be described as being in a Black cultural renaissance.

Anna Mossakowska, a digital strategist in Glendon鈥檚 strategic communications and community engagement unit, says the series also gives viewers a chance to see representatives of Glendon in conversation with people whose experiences may differ from their own.

鈥淚鈥檓 excited to see our community members connect with people from different backgrounds and perspectives, and to discover not only what makes us different, but also the many things we share,鈥� she says.

The overall goal, says Bourne, is to foster greater understanding of the Black experience in Canada.

"I hope that people who don鈥檛 identify as Black can look at it and say, 'Oh, wow, I've learned something,'" says Bourne. "By partnering with an academic institution, we are hoping this is a way of educating people that's outside of the norm of what they would typically think of as education."

The remaining three episodes are expected to be released over the next few months, with specific dates still being finalized. The series will continue to bring together participants from different fields, backgrounds and parts of the Glendon and broader Black Canadian communities.

"I definitely felt a very strong sense of pride to bring my crew into my former school," says Bourne.

For him, the project also represented a chance to bring culture into an educational space. "I think we need to do more of that," he says.

With files from Mzwandile Poncana

The post Glendon, SHIFTER explore Black culture through video series appeared first on YFile.

The approval allows Aretek to move ahead with a three-storey student housing project at the University of Windsor, expected to be the largest 3D-printed concrete building in North America by volume.

Researchers at 91亚色鈥檚 have been working with the company to test materials, monitor performance and generate the technical evidence needed to bring an emerging construction method closer to real-world use.

Liam Butler, associate professor in the Department of Civil Engineering, has been working alongside Aretek 鈥� formerly known as Printerra 鈥� through a multi-year research partnership anchored at the Keele Campus. Aretek is one of the few Canadian companies specializing in additive concrete construction, commonly known as 3D-printed concrete.

The collaboration involves developing lower-carbon concrete mixes, full-scale structural testing, performance monitoring, long-term durability testing and the kind of technical evidence regulators need before approving an entirely new way of building.

"This is definitely putting 91亚色 on the map as a key collaborator," says Butler.

The road to that approval, however, was not straightforward. Unlike conventional construction materials, 3D-printed concrete has no formal building code or standard anywhere in the world.

"Aretek has had to overcome the fact that there is no template for how to evaluate these new systems. They've had to create their own through demonstration and testing," says Butler.

Rather than wait for new regulations, Aretek worked within existing masonry standards to design and test a 3D-printed wall system. It applied for code approval through a regulatory pathway that allows builders to prove a new method can meet safety and performance requirements, even when it is not yet covered by existing building codes. Butler was directly involved in that process, called on by Aretek to support discussions with the Building Materials Evaluation Commission on behalf of these new innovative materials.

"We've been asked as academics to join these conversations with building officials to help support their application for these regulatory approvals," he says.

That support was possible because of what 91亚色's Keele Campus offers. Aretek conducts research and development out of 91亚色's Climate Data-Driven Design (CD3) facility 鈥� a civil engineering lab that gives access to full-scale industrial 3D printers. For Butler, that full-scale capacity is one of the partnership鈥檚 most important advantages.

"Most research around the world in 3D-printed concrete is at the lab scale, using lab-sized printers or even printers that fit on a desktop," says Butler. "We actually have access to a full-scale industrial-size printer. The acceleration from lab scale to adoption is greatly shortened. New mixes we design can be immediately tested at the full scale. That is a very unique aspect of this research project."

One of the partnership's central research objectives is reducing cement content in 3D-printed concrete mixes. Cement is essential to the rapid-hardening properties that 3D printing requires but it is also one of the construction sector's most significant environmental liabilities. The cement and concrete sector accounts for around seven per cent of global greenhouse gas emissions.

"Reducing that cement content in mixes, even by 20 or 30 per cent, could have a large-scale impact across the sector," says Butler.

The partnership also extends into workforce training. As Aretek trains construction workers in 3D-printing methods, those workers need a new skill set: learning to operate robotic printing systems, manage material preparation, read digital files and follow safety protocols specific to additive construction equipment.

"Like any sector that is evolving and changing, there's always a degree of upskilling that's going to have to be involved," says Butler.

The Windsor project, once complete, could also make it easier for future projects to move through approval processes elsewhere.

"Once one solution has been approved by a certain jurisdiction, it sets an important precedent," says Butler. "It will open the floodgates to a lot of other projects and jurisdictions."

Looking ahead, Butler expects 3D-printed construction to grow rapidly with hybrid structures that combine 3D-printed concrete and mass timber or precast concrete. This could lead to more sustainable material mixes and an increasing number of companies entering the space. He hopes 91亚色 remains at the centre of that evolution.

For Butler, that close connection between university research and industry application 鈥� such as the Windsor project 鈥� is what makes the partnership significant.

"It's a wonderful mechanism for creating positive impact," he says, "being able to upscale directly from research to new real-world applications."

With files from Mzwandile Poncana

The post 91亚色 research brings 3D-printed concrete closer to real-world use appeared first on YFile.

And, the students who take Sodhi鈥檚 course have an affectionate name for themselves after it ends: survivors.

The Faculty of Liberal Arts & Professional Studies course, designed as a compressed version of real marketing work, demands a lot of participants. Over 12 weeks, it pushes them to think strategically, act decisively and communicate with the clarity and confidence expected in professional settings. Part classroom and part boardroom, the experience moves quickly from advanced marketing theory to collaborating directly with external organizations on real business problems. Ideas are tested publicly, feedback is unfiltered and performance matters.

鈥淚t鈥檚 a tough journey,鈥� says Sodhi, 鈥渁nd that鈥檚 why they call themselves survivors.鈥�

Sodhi launched the program eight years ago, inspired in part by the Canadian Marketing League, the country's foremost experiential competition that brings top marketing students together to solve real business challenges for real brands. Sodhi, who judges the competition each year, wanted to create something similar at 91亚色 that would give students exposure to live clients while addressing the job鈥憆eady skills employers told her were missing. 鈥淐ompanies told me they were looking for plug鈥慳nd鈥憄lay talent,鈥� says Sodhi. 鈥淭his course was designed to help participants become that.鈥�

The class blends advanced classroom learning with real industry exposure. Students work through case studies in areas such as consumer behaviour, brand management and digital marketing, learn from industry practitioners and train with data tools aligned to their clients鈥� sectors. That foundation quickly gives way to live-client work, such as cases drawn from this year's organizations including Yamaha Motor Company, Sofina Foods, Clearly Canadian, Queen Steet West and Supaagents. As the cohort immerse themselves in each business, they develop and pitch go鈥憈o鈥憁arket solutions in high鈥憇takes settings that closely mirror workplace marketing practice.

Each year, students apply for the course, submitting r茅sum茅s, transcripts and statements of career intent before being screened and interviewed by Sodhi. From that pool, a small cohort 鈥� usually no more than 12 individuals 鈥� is selected and divided into two competing teams. This year's group included Jacob Barreto, Maegan Chen, Tram Anh Le, Victor Duong, Charles Alatiw, Delilah O., Nandika Kumar and Yousef Abdollahi who formed two teams: InterLnk and Fluidus.

As it does every year, the experience opens with targeted preparation. Sodhi tailors the academic material to the cases students will take on, revisiting or introducing concepts in areas such as brand management, customer relationship management or international marketing. The goal is not exhaustive coverage, but a shared foundation that allows the cohort to apply theory confidently once the live鈥慶lient work begins.

Participants rehearse through instructor鈥慸esigned mock cases, using feedback to fine鈥憈une analysis, presentation structure and question鈥慼andling. Then the course shifts to work with clients.

Over the following weeks, external organizations brief teams on real marketing challenges, often inviting students into their workplaces for deeper immersion. Teams develop and present solutions in extended evening sessions judged by industry experts and the clients, with each case evaluated on criteria such as strategic thinking, leadership and analytical skill.

Presentation nights are demanding. Teams presents in person, followed by a hard鈥慼itting question鈥慳nd鈥慳nswer period that plays a significant role in the judging. Judges push students to defend assumptions, explain trade鈥憃ffs and think on their feet, often from multiple directions at once.

The experience is new territory for many students, including those part of InterLnk and Fluidus

Even after eight years of teaching the course, Sodhi says she is still struck by how much students change over the term. As the weeks unfold, they develop what she calls a 鈥渃ourage of conviction鈥� 鈥� the ability to persuade an audience that their thinking is sound, even without depth of experience. With repeated feedback and escalating scrutiny, students find their footing. 鈥淭hey just become better and better,鈥� she says.

The experience culminates in a final showcase that brings the intensity of the term into one room. After weeks of competition, InterLnk and Fluidus presented their strongest efforts to a grand jury of clients, faculty and program sponsors. Awards recognize both performance and potential, highlighting strategic thinking, leadership and growth demonstrated over the full 12 weeks, as well as an overall winner. Learning partners like Environics Analytics and Oxenham Consultants Inc recognize students with awards for use of data and showing enterprise potential.聽

For many participants, however, the most valuable recognition comes afterward.

In past years, clients have offered jobs or internships following the final showcase. Sodhi recalls instances where companies were so impressed by student efforts that hiring decisions followed quickly. Similar moments continue to emerge. This year, a client reached out to one student for her perspective on the company鈥檚 social鈥憁edia presence. Drawing on the same strategic approach she used during the course, she shared her feedback and is now under consideration for a role that would typically require six or seven years of industry experience.

Participants also gain something less formal but no less lasting: each other. 鈥淎ll eight years of cohorts are connected now, as part of one team community,鈥� says Sodhi.

That network continues to grow, not just with the addition of InterLnk and Fluidus' members. This year, a graduate from the program鈥檚 very first cohort, now the founder of a successful business, returned as a client, bringing his own company鈥檚 case to the experience. Sodhi also brought alumni back in a new role, hiring former participants to coach teams behind the scenes during presentation nights.

Sodhi is proud of what the course has become. 鈥淵ou can talk to all of the students and they will tell you that this course is the most challenging,鈥� she says, 鈥渂ut also the one they learned the most from. It literally prepares them for the real world and their careers.鈥�

That impact is echoed by "survivors." In LinkedIn posts after the course ended, many describe LCL as a turning point. 鈥淕oing into the program, I did not realize just how prepared, challenged and fulfilled I would feel by the end of it,鈥� wrote Kumar. 鈥淚 am leaving this experience feeling far more confident, capable and excited for what lies ahead in my marketing career.鈥�

For Duong, the takeaway came through the pressure as much as the payoff. 鈥淭here were long nights, stressful moments and times when everything felt overwhelming,鈥� he wrote. 鈥淏ut through it all, LCL pushed me, challenged me and helped me grow in ways I did not expect, both personally and professionally. Every part of it was worth it.鈥�

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