The human mind, in all its complexity, is a fragile and resilient thing. For years, I have navigated a path of recovery from a severe mental illness, a journey that has demanded every ounce of my strength and resolve. Simultaneously, I am a university student, striving to meet academic demands while also tending to the delicate landscape of my own well-being. It is from this unique vantage point that I have come to a firm and unshakeable belief: a fundamental and complete overhaul of the Canadian education system is not just a good idea; it is a moral imperative. And this reform must not be confined to universities. It must begin in our daycares and extend throughout our lives, right into old age.
Sir Ken Robinson, in his seminal work on changing education paradigms, laid bare the uncomfortable truth that our current system is failing us. He spoke of the link between rising drop-out rates, the marginalization of the arts, and the growing prevalence of conditions like ADHD. My own experience echoes his observations, but adds another layer of profound gravity. I see these trends not just as systemic flaws but as direct contributors to the very struggles I and countless others face. The system, as it stands, is a relic of the industrial age, designed to produce compliant workers for a world that no longer exists. It is a one-size-fits-all model in a world of beautiful, diverse, and often vulnerable minds. This essay is my call to action, a reflection on why our education system needs to change, and a look at what the future could and should hold.
My journey with severe mental illness was not a sudden event, but rather the culmination of years of internal conflict and pressure. I recall my early education, a time of boundless curiosity that was slowly but surely corralled into a rigid, linear progression of facts and figures. The system valued my ability to memorize dates and theorems, but not my innate sense of wonder. Robinson’s critique of the education system as one that “educates people out of their creative capacities” rings deeply true for me. As a child, I found solace and expression in creative pursuits—drawing, storytelling, and music. Yet, as I moved through the system, these subjects were relegated to the sidelines, treated as extracurriculars or “nice-to-haves” rather than core components of a healthy, holistic education. The message was clear: my true value lay in my academic performance in a narrow set of subjects. This gradual stripping away of creative outlets, of personal identity, left me feeling like a hollowed-out version of myself, a vessel for information rather than a creator of knowledge. I believe that this early suppression of self-expression and creativity laid the groundwork for my later mental health struggles. The system didn’t teach me how to cope with failure, how to express my emotions, or how to find purpose outside of a report card. It simply taught me to follow the rules and strive for a narrow definition of success, a pursuit that ultimately proved unsustainable.
As I entered high school, the pressure intensified. The drop-out crisis that Robinson discusses became a tangible reality for me and my peers. It wasn’t just the students who were failing; it was the system itself. The curriculum was a relentless march toward standardized tests, and the arts were further diminished. I saw friends, brilliant and creative individuals, lose their spark because their talents didn’t fit into the academic mold. They were told their passions were hobbies, not viable paths. This neglect of individual passions and strengths can have devastating consequences for a young person’s sense of self-worth and purpose. For me, the constant stress and the feeling that I was an anomaly—a creative mind in a system that valued conformity—contributed significantly to the anxiety and depression that would later consume me. The system wasn’t designed to recognize or nurture someone like me, and it left me feeling like I didn’t belong. There was no space for vulnerability, for imperfection, or for the kind of emotional exploration that is crucial for mental health.
Now, as a university student, I find myself in a system that, while seemingly more advanced, often perpetuates the same flaws. The halls of higher education are not always havens of intellectual curiosity; they can be factories of mass-produced degrees. Large lecture halls, impersonal online courses, and a rigid syllabus often leave little room for individual engagement or one-on-one support. For someone recovering from a severe mental illness, this environment can be incredibly isolating. It is a constant battle to balance the demands of my studies with the daily practice of self-care and mental discipline. The curriculum is often divorced from real-world application, and the emphasis on memorization over genuine understanding feels like a continuation of the same old game. I am told to “succeed” in an environment that often feels indifferent to my existence. This is where the reform must be most radical. Universities have a responsibility to not just educate the mind but to nurture the whole person. They must be flexible, compassionate, and truly student-centered.
But my vision for reform extends far beyond the academic years. I firmly believe that education is a lifelong journey. As we age, our brains need to remain cognitively active to maintain health and vitality. The learning process should not end with a degree or a retirement party; it should be a continuous thread woven throughout our lives. For many of us, particularly those who have faced mental health challenges, lifelong learning is not a luxury but a necessity. It is a tool for self-discovery, for finding new purpose, and for keeping our minds sharp and engaged. We need to create educational opportunities for adults and seniors that are accessible, engaging, and relevant. This could be anything from community workshops on creative arts to online courses on new technologies. The goal is to foster a culture of lifelong curiosity, where every stage of life is seen as an opportunity for growth, not decline.
This is where the emergence of AI and machine learning becomes so compelling. In Europe, I see glimmers of this future. I read about schools and institutions using AI to create personalized learning paths, adapting to a student’s pace and learning style. AI can provide instant feedback, identify areas of struggle, and suggest alternative approaches without the judgment that can be so damaging. For someone with mental health challenges, this kind of personalized, non-judgmental support could be transformative. Imagine a university system where an AI tutor could help me work through a difficult concept at three in the morning, or where my curriculum could be adjusted to accommodate a period of heightened illness without me having to fall behind. These technologies have the potential to democratize education, making it accessible to everyone, regardless of their background or personal circumstances.
Sadly, this revolution is happening slowly, if at all, in North America. While Europe seems to be embracing the potential of AI to create more humane and effective educational systems, we in Canada are still clinging to the old, rigid model. We are so focused on maintaining the status quo that we risk falling behind. Our educational institutions, particularly our universities, have a choice to make: will they continue to be a part of the problem, or will they become leaders of the solution? I believe the University of Ottawa has the potential to play a lead role in this endeavor and be a trendsetter. With its resources, its prestige, and its unique position in the nation’s capital, it could pioneer a new educational paradigm—one that is not only academically rigorous but also compassionate, flexible, and truly designed for the whole person.
I know that advocating for this kind of radical change is not easy. It will require challenging deeply entrenched beliefs and systems. But my journey has taught me the importance of speaking up for what is right, even when it is difficult. I believe that an education system that crushes creativity and individuality is not only inefficient but morally bankrupt. It is time for us to recognize that our greatest resource is not our land or our money, but the minds and hearts of our people. It is time to create an education system that nurtures, not just teaches; that inspires, not just instructs; and that prepares us not just for a job, but for a life of purpose and well-being. It is time to change the paradigm. It is time to embrace the future.
Featured image: The Guardian