For first-year students unfamiliar with fields of study other than the old-guard standards (English, History, and Political Science), interdisciplinary programs are the unknown entities of the course calendar. They are in essence, degrees comprised of courses in multiple disciplines, and allow students the freedom to choose a more unique path on the road to their undergraduate degree.
It’s often claimed that U of T treats students like numbers, shuffling us in and out of large programs that make us feel anonymous. Even worse, these programs are full of frustrating prerequisites and course requirements that often turn what should be an enlightening academic experience into a four-year series of hurdles.
Many students feel confined to large programs because they get the most press, but the university’s multitude of interdisciplinary programs proves that other, more progressive options exist—you just have to look a little harder in the course calendar to find them.
In many cases, students stumble into interdisciplinary programs once they realize that the specific courses they’re most interested in fall under a certain lesser known area of study.
This was the case for second-year student Rachel Lissner, who says that her major “was originally Middle Eastern Studies and Politics, and I realized that all the classes I was taking [fell under] Jewish Studies. I like the fact that there are no strict requirements—I don’t have to take particular classes to be a major or a minor. It’s something I’m generally interested in, and it’s flexible.”
The very nature of interdisciplinary studies implies taking courses across numerous disciplines, and the breadth of available classes is the primary draw.
“I’ve switched my major three times,” says fourth-year Canadian Studies student Alixandra Gould. “So I’ve taken courses in a lot of different departments. I chose Canadian Studies because it would allow me to combine courses from many disciplines. So it’s good for people like me who don’t have a streamlined, very specific area of study that they’re interested in.”
Smaller class sizes are another aspect of the programs’ appeal. Many of the classes are seminars capped at approximately 25 students, so by the time they hit their upper years, students can expect to see a number of familiar faces.
Not only that, Lissner confirms that the Jewish Studies program offers what most students believe is a myth: professors who know their students by name.
“They’ve started the Centre for Jewish Studies, and it’s all this one professor, Hindy Najman. She’s amazing—she comes to events, and she contacts students to talk about [the program]. And Professor [Adam] Cohen, who runs the art club, helped me [to organize] my plans to study abroad.”
Lissner stresses the value that certain professors can have when they dedicate themselves to such a specific field of study, and such a small group of students. “If they weren’t there, I’d feel like it was a totally different program,” she says.
However, given that they offer students an innovative educational experience, interdisciplinary programs face unique challenges. Fourth-year student Chloe Richer describes the difficulties faced by Urban Studies students when attempting to create a social atmosphere. “There are only 150 students in the program, and with such a small number, you’re less likely to get a lot of students to come out. We had a sustainability forum in January that we [put on] with the Civil Engineers Club. We had a ton of engineers, and barely any Urban Studies students.”
Gould suggests that the very nature of the programs’ setup forces students to be transient. “I don’t really feel a sense of a cohesive student body in the program, maybe even less so because it’s interdisciplinary and students can take courses in so many different departments. It’s not really a home of its own.”
The university has attempted to provide a home by hosting small interdisciplinary programs at individual colleges, presumably for administrative purposes. The programs are listed under a college in the course calendar, which makes them appear less accessible, despite the fact that anyone can take them.
And for all their charms, even small interdisciplinary programs can’t escape the maze of bureaucracy that terrorizes students into keeping silent when faced with an academic issue.
“There’s a myth among these smaller programs that they’re more accessible,” says Gould. “U of T has this reputation for being this huge institution where it’s impossible to talk to someone in the Political Science department because it’s so huge, and the belief is that smaller programs aren’t like that. I found that that’s not actually the case. I’ve had more trouble reaching people at the Canadian Studies department than any other department at U of T. It’s like there’s a man behind the curtain. I’d like to just walk into his office, but you can’t get to this person, and there are all these people in the way who prevent you from doing it. So that’s a little weird—and stressful.”
While nearly everyone feels lost at some point in their undergrad life, it’s much easier to feel like a castaway in a large program. At this age, we’re all a little selfish, and the U of T you want is, in all probability, not the same sparkling ideal shared by the dude sitting next to you in POL103.
Interdisciplinary programs, while still very much a part of the whole, offer students a progressive alternative that best suits individual academic desires. They’re a rare opportunity to explore what might otherwise be unavailable options. And increased choice is always something worth looking into.
