UTGSU 2020 executive election results released

Elections were restarted due to violations of UTGSU bylaws in elections code

UTGSU 2020 executive election results released

The results of the University of Toronto Graduate Students’ Union (UTGSU) elections were released on April 21 after they were called off and restarted, as the elections code did not comply with UTGSU bylaws. Elections ran from April 17–21, and saw a total voter turnout of 3.7 per cent out of 18,779 possible voters — a slight decrease from last year’s voter turnout of 5.1 per cent. 

For the two uncontested positions, Dhanela Sivaparan was elected Academics and Funding Commissioner Divisions 1 & 2, with 437 votes in favour, and Lwanga Musisi was elected University Governance Commissioner with 432 votes in favour. 

June Li was elected Academics and Funding Commissioner Divisions 3 & 4, with 282 votes in favour — over 100 votes more than each of the other two candidates. Danielle Karakas was elected Civics & Environment Commissioner by a margin of roughly 150 votes over the other two candidates, with 269 votes in favour, and Jacqui Spencer was elected External Commissioner with 312 votes — 88 more than the other candidate. Finally, Lynne Alexandrova was elected Internal Commissioner by a margin of 38 votes, with 252 votes in favour.

Musisi was the only incumbent from last year’s executive to win re-election, though Alexandrova previously served on the executive committee as internal commissioner for a partial term in 2018 before being voted out of office. 

Op-ed: Victoria College’s negligent eviction of students placed an unfair burden on international students

Short notice and lack of communication exaggerated feelings of anxiety and financial strain

Op-ed: Victoria College’s negligent eviction of students placed an unfair burden on international students

I’m writing this on a word document before my computer battery dies in the hope that other University of Toronto students are aware of some of the administrative decisions that Victoria College made during the COVID-19 crisis which have led to my sincere disappointment as a member of Victoria College’s international student community.

It’s a Sunday night during the prime deadline period for U of T assignments. The power in my house is out. We’ve had a power outage since this morning, and the electricity probably won’t come back until late tomorrow. I have no light. I can’t charge any electronics, and I can’t even take a shower that isn’t bitterly cold. 

I’m still way more fortunate than the majority of the population in Brazil, because at least I have access to clean water, but I’d be writing this in the complete dark if it weren’t for the dim light of the candles that my parents lit in the kitchen. 

On a normal day, not having electricity wouldn’t be a huge concern for me, but today it is. I have an ECO230 — International Economic Institutions and Policy assignment due tonight, and I’ve had to struggle to somehow connect my computer to a cell phone hotspot. I haven’t had time to get a Brazilian phone plan since being kicked out of Vic residence, so I had to use my mother’s phone. 

The worst part is that I worked hard on this assignment in the hopes that I could submit it early, even in the midst of such crazy circumstances. It all feels very unfair and completely out of my control.

One of my main takeaways from this experience? Whoever runs Vic residence clearly doesn’t know what it’s like to live in the global south.

On Tuesday, March 17, all students in Victoria College’s residences received an email with a notice stipulating that they must leave by Thursday, March 19. According to the email, exceptions to this rule included international students, out of province students, students who were self-isolating, and students who required special accommodations. My roommates and I thought this meant that we were exempt from this demand, and that our international status would allow us to safely stay in residence. So, we carried on as normal, working on our assignments. 

I do concede that our failure to follow up with the dean’s office and ensure that we were in the clear was a mistake — but even so, the administration should have been clearer in this regard. 

The email led to a significant number of international students, including many of my friends, mistakenly believing that we would be allowed to stay until April 26. 

Two days later, a mini stage of panic ensued. One of our friends, who is an international student, had called the dean’s office to ask about administrative changes related to COVID-19, and learned that we were actually expected to leave residence. The staff had informed him that he had to leave by Saturday, even though he was an international student. 

My roommates and I began to panic: four international students rushing to call their respective families through Whatsapp and figure out what to do. 

Victoria College wasn’t clear about this at all. We learned that we had to leave not through official channels, but through our friend’s Instagram messages. 

Upon speaking to staff from the dean’s office, I learned that they saw this as an error of communication. They meant to convey that some students would gain a few extra dates to adjust, but they were still expected to leave residence as soon as possible.

However, this miscommunication was one that could be solved with a few phone calls. My complaint is rooted far deeper than that.

Victoria College did not implement any sort of consultation process with students to understand what conditions it would be sending their students back to. It should have at least extended mechanisms in order to allow for accommodations based on students’ individual situations. Instead, what I noticed at Victoria College was that, rather than a system of accommodation and understanding, there was an unfair situation where students had to practically beg to stay. 

Students who were more articulate or outspoken and who ‘pressed on’ had a larger chance of being granted an extension. In my case, I was privileged because I’m part of Vic’s student government, and thus already know and speak with the dean’s office staff on a regular basis. 

Although I made sure to tell them about my situation, other students didn’t have the chance to share their concerns about their home conditions or about needing more time. 

Speaking with staff at the dean’s office is scary when you’ve been told you have to leave by a certain deadline. Even so, asking for accommodations wasn’t that effective. One of my close friends was begging the staff, crying on the phone, until they allowed him to stay an extra week. Accommodations shouldn’t be given on a basis of who pressures the most, because not all students are comfortable doing so.

We were given a notice that said we had to leave, and a form to fill out with our intended date of departure and questions on how we planned to store our belongings.

I don’t mean to demonize Victoria College. It did communicate clear dates when food services would close, and by what date students had to leave. But there was no effort at all to understand who qualified for the accommodations, and many students didn’t even know that they were eligible for an extension. 

During my phone call to the dean’s office, I told them that my parents were retired and that my father has an autoimmune disease, so I was concerned about returning home. I also told them that my father had surgery for a pulmonary embolism last year, and that I was also concerned about any possible complications stemming from respiratory issues.  

However, I want to reiterate that my concern isn’t solely health related. Regardless of whether my father, or any international student’s father would actually contract COVID-19, the problem lies with the burden of stress that comes with Vic admin putting us in this negligent and unfair situation on top of an already stressful workload and fast-changing routine. 

It’s exhausting to deal with having to buy an incredibly expensive flight ticket because you have to leave the country on three days notice. One of the reasons why this situation was negligent and unfair is because of the sheer exhaustion that comes from having to deal with our evictions. 

When I speak of negligence, I speak in part of the Victoria administration placing burdens on students that were avoidable and unnecessary, and the mental toll that accompanied this. What hurt me most through this whole process was that Victoria College evicted us and treated us as a legal liability. It made me feel as though, to Vic, we weren’t a priority.

At its core, my complaint is that being forced to move out of the country by residence administrators led to an even quicker state of burnout for international students. At the end of it all, we were all exhausted in a way that I can’t even describe.

Lucy Alves Pache de Faria is a third-year International Relations and Political Science student at Victoria College. Pache is the Victoria University Students’ Administrative Council’s Academic Commissioner.

How to make a crisis: cracks in mental health care at U of O and U of T

String of student deaths at two of Ontario’s biggest universities indicates institutional roots of mental health care crises

How to make a crisis: cracks in mental health care at U of O and U of T

Content warning: discussions of suicide.

This story is a collaboration between The Fulcrum and The Varsity.

University of Ottawa president Jacques Frémont held a press conference on Feb. 11, 2020 in the wake of the fifth student death in the previous 10 months. There, he stood before the cameras and reporters, the university’s emblem behind him, and finally uttered the word that had been exchanged among the student body for years: “crisis.”

“I know that at times, this university can feel big and impersonal,” the U of O president said. “But I want you to know that in reality it is filled with kind and caring people. It really is. We are a community of people who care.”

Frémont encouraged students who feel that they can “no longer cope” to reach out to the university’s counsellors — a request he punctuated with several desperate “pleases.”

On March 14, the sixth U of O student death since April 2019 was confirmed. 

In a year riddled with crises, the attention of university administrations is understandably divided. But as the global COVID-19 pandemic has wracked the student population with isolation and grief, it’s now more important than ever that the university’s efforts to address the mental health crisis are not lost.

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At the University of Toronto, the word ‘Bahen’ has become synonymous with the campus mental health crisis.

The Bahen Centre for Information Technology is a tall and imposing building that sits on St. George Street, the main road that runs through U of T’s St. George campus. Since June 2018, it has been the site of three apparent deaths by suicide.

Each successive tragedy prompted ever-larger protests from students demanding better mental health services from the university administration. With each death, the university has taken increasing steps to keep up with students’ demands for comprehensive reform.  

Yet, this current groundswell of activism is not as sudden as it may seem. The protests that have sprung up in response to the recent deaths on campus are building on years-long discontent with mental health services and the nature of academic life at U of T.

Indeed, the mental health crisis began long before many of the students studying at U of T today ever stepped foot on campus.

In 1964, The Varsity published the results of a survey which showed that over 50 per cent of U of T students felt that they needed counselling at some point during their studies. At the time, this was a shocking discovery.

An editorial published a few issues later criticized the university for starting a committee in response to the survey and yet failing to take any concrete actions to address the findings.

“Will the problem of student mental health be allowed to sink into an oblivion of committee reports and counter-recommendations?” wrote The Varsity Editorial Board. “Or will [the university] take decisive action this year?”

Current U of T students may find the story familiar. After the second death at Bahen on March 17, 2019, and after students staged multiple protests to express their grief and anger, the administration announced the creation of the Presidential & Provostial Task Force on Student Mental Health 11 days later, on March 28.

The mandate of the task force was to conduct consultations with the community to “review mental health supports and services for students at U of T.”

Since its creation, the task force has received mixed reactions from the U of T community, with campus groups in particular criticizing its lack of student representation.

Out of the 13 members of the task force, there are two graduate students, an undergraduate student from UTM, and an undergraduate student from UTSG.

Despite the criticisms, most student groups were cautiously optimistic when the task force finally released a report in January after months of consultations.

In the report, they recommended a redesign of U of T’s mental health services, which will include “the appointment of a tri-campus Clinical Director, as well as new technologies to facilitate appointment bookings and reminders, and help students become informed about the services we offer,” as Vice-Provost, Students Sandy Welsh wrote to The Varsity.

While student groups were disappointed with the lack of specific solutions, such as those targeted toward the satellite campuses, the general consensus was that the administration was taking a step in the right direction.

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Rame Abdulkader/The Fulcrum

At the U of O, students saw Frémont’s words, while sympathetic, as the reflection of a deep-seated disconnect between the intentions of the administration and the reality of the situation on the ground.

The reality is stark. Twenty counsellors serve U of O’s student body of over 40,000, and long wait times often make them inaccessible.

That was the case for Rayhane Mejlaoui, a third-year student studying biopharmaceutical science at U of O. The inflexibility of her co-op course requirements meant that she had to take a full course load, despite wanting to take fewer credits.

The stress began to take a toll on her mental health. When she started failing midterms in October 2019, she decided to seek help. She signed up for a family doctor at the campus clinic, and they referred her for counselling.

“Like a month after the appointment with my doctor, I got the screening phone call,” Mejlaoui said. 

“They asked me lots of questions and then they said it would probably still take a few weeks before I got a meeting. What happened is I went to see my doctor in October. And then they gave me an appointment for January, which was in the middle of my work time, so it was kind of useless at that point.”

Experiences like Mejlaoui’s are the norm at U of O. Rapid care is promised only to the most pressing cases, and in reality, it’s rarely provided even then. The immediate response that is often celebrated in gatherings such as the one held on February 11 by Frémont is a triage. One student at the town hall described this as a short meeting with a counsellor in which students are asked to unpack their trauma and “sell themselves” on why they need therapy. And the next appointment could be weeks away. 

For care that is more specialized, the answer is often “not yet,” or sometimes, simply “no.” 

Kelly El Ahl, a second-year student studying psychology and French, has attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) and a personality disorder; this makes her what the U of O calls a “complicated case.” For the more serious cases like El Ahl’s, wait times for appointments can stretch into months, and sometimes, care doesn’t arrive at all.

“Before I started university, I had a psycho-educational assessment done at the research clinic, and I was told I needed to have therapy when I start school and to sign up to start therapy with the psychological clinic at school,” she said. “So I called and they put me on the waiting list. And that was like April [or] May 2018. And I’m still on the waiting list right now. They said it was too complicated.” 

In the meantime, they referred her to counselling services, where she was turned away again.

“I was told that I already have my diagnoses,” she said. “I know a bit more about what my problem is. I know about my actions, and I know what needs to be done. So I was told that they couldn’t do much to help me because the counselling services are for people who are still at the beginning of their quest, I guess, who don’t really know what’s going on or have more academic issues.”

“My problems were a bit too advanced for them. So I left and they sent me an email with a link to Psychology Today to find a private practice therapist.”

El Ahl found a private therapist, but now has to pay $170 a week for their services, a fee that is no longer covered by university insurance after she quickly surpassed the $1,500 limit. 

The university’s approach to providing mental health care and cultivating a general sense of wellness on campus is undergoing slow but certain change. This approach is made evident in part by the recent establishment of the Wellness & Recreation sector of Student Life, which will replace Student Academic Success Services as the department responsible for counselling services.

In addition to counselling, the Wellness & Recreation sector, under the guidance of its director, Rachelle Clark, will oversee residence life, campus recreation, and health promotion. 

“I think what it does is it brings together all of the services that really are focusing on wellness so that we can have a more streamlined and intentional, strategic approach to enhancing wellness on campus,” said Clark in an interview back in January.

Clark admitted that one of the university’s greatest challenges in terms of mental health support is the lack of a streamlined path to care.

“It’s not even just accessing services at uOttawa,” she said. “It’s navigating the different levels of support, and the resources and the services. Understanding the services that are available within the mandate of the university, and those that are available within the mandate of the provincial health system can be very confusing, and can even pose a barrier to accessing care.”

In terms of streamlining, Michel Guilbeault, Associate Vice-President Student Services, is on the same page.

“We need to do more awareness,” he told the Fulcrum, U of O’s student newspaper, in a December interview. “Unfortunately, students are not educating themselves about those services until they need them. And that’s probably the worst possible time because they may be in a situation where they’re just not at their best for whatever reason.”

He cited a revamped orientation package which offers an increased emphasis on how to access support services for incoming students as an example of administrative efforts to improve awareness. Currently, mental health support and treatments are also dispersed throughout campus and the community beyond. Guilbeault hopes that, in the future, they’ll be able to co-locate mental health care at U of O into one facility.

“Let’s be real about it,” he said. “There’s still a lot more that can be done to improve in this area.”

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One of the catalysts of this recent wave of student mental health activism at U of T was the introduction and eventual passing of the university-mandated leave of absence policy (UMLAP).

The UMLAP was first introduced in October 2017, though it had been in the works for at least two years prior. Its purpose was to allow the university to place a student on a non-punitive leave of absence if their mental health was negatively impacting their studies, or if it was putting them at risk to themselves or others.

The policy received immediate backlash from students, many of them criticizing it for taking away student autonomy, removing students from their communities and mental health services, having unclear procedures around invocation and application, and not requiring the input of medical professionals.

The university was forced to address some of these concerns when the Ontario Human Rights Commission (OHRC) criticized the policy for failing in the “duty to accommodate.”

“The Policy appears to allow the University to immediately put the student on leave and withdraw essential services (housing, health, and counselling services) at a time when the student is in crisis and most in need of support,” stated the OHRC.

The university’s response was to withdraw the policy and reintroduce it three months later with some updates. These included a definition of ‘accommodation,’ more information about when the policy could be invoked, and a note that medical professionals may be involved in individual cases, though this was not required.

In the midst of consultations and protests surrounding the policy, U of T experienced the first student death at the Bahen Centre on June 24, 2018. Three days later, the Governing Council passed the UMLAP to the sound of student protests outside their council chambers.

In August 2019, a year after the UMLAP’s approval, U of T reported that the policy had been invoked eight times. Welsh previously told The Varsity that medical professionals were involved in all cases, and that the families of the students generally gave positive feedback. Little information about these cases is otherwise available.

The policy’s passing has not brought an end to student protests. When current activists speak on the state of mental health on campus, many inevitably point to the UMLAP as an area that needs heavy reform, if not a complete withdrawal.

Criticisms of the UMLAP came to the fore most recently in October, when U of T’s ombudsperson Dr. Ellen Hodnett faced backlash for saying that student activists were using the campus suicides to unfairly criticize the policy.

Hodnett explained to The Varsity in an earlier interview that she saw the concerns surrounding the UMLAP as stemming from online misinformation, maintaining that the policy was fair and made in students’ best interest.

Thus, the U of T community has reached an impasse on the UMLAP, with the administration standing by its implementation and use, and the students continuing to protest it years after its introduction.

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Rame Abdulkader/The Fulcrum

In addition to the blatant disconnect, Frémont’s address contained more than a few broken promises.

The U of O is committed — and I am committed — to ensuring that the mental health needs of our students are addressed as comprehensively as possible on campus,” he said at the February 11 press conference.

Despite that proclamation, he was noticeably absent from the much-anticipated town hall on mental health February 27, and it did not go unnoticed by the students who spoke there.

“I’d just like to say that I truly believe and hope that Frémont will host another town hall where he is present,” said one student. These sentiments were echoed many times over throughout the event.

“We look at wellness, including mental health wellness, as a continuum,” Clark added in her January interview. “And I think we need to start working with students before mental health becomes an issue [for them].”

However, in the face of the COVID-19 pandemic, the mental health crisis at U of O has faded into the background. When the death of the sixth student in one year was announced on March 14, it seemed to vanish in the firestorm of pandemic-related news.

At U of O, an entire cycle of student activism has peaked and fallen since the string of student deaths began in March 2019.

Following the fourth student death in December 2019, outrage over the state of mental health care on campus triggered a student mobilization, represented chiefly in the launch of uOCollective 4 mental health, a Facebook group that sits at nearly 1,000 members.

The collective launched a petition that demands improvement, and contains several recommendations for doing so, including increasing staff training, hiring more specialized personnel, alleviating costs for students, and increasing discussion between stakeholders. At the time of publication, the petition has over 8,000 signatures.

The student mobilization is largely credited with pushing forth the town halls, but since then, administrative response has yet to materialize. 

Camelia Skaf, a second-year student studying French and applied ethics, is an active participant of the student movement. She denies that the movement is losing steam, but admits that their momentum is hard to maintain.

“Obviously we still care,” said Skaf. “It’s just we’re all so fucking tired. This is hurting my school, it’s hurting my friends’ school — everyone’s burned out. We just don’t know what to do and how to do it to get what we want.”

According to Skaf, what they want is concrete policy changes, amendments to academic regulations that disadvantage those who have a disability or mental illness, and, perhaps most of all, open discourse.

“Jacques spends too much time in Tabaret,” said Skaf, speaking about the administration building at U of O. “There is a full disconnect between the administration and the students of the school.”

The lack of consistency and the lack of understanding from the university has increasingly driven a wedge between student activists and the administration over the course of the academic year. 

At the town hall on February 26, Angela Toubis and Laura O’Connor, co-founders of the uOCollective 4 mental health, pointed out that Frémont had failed to deliver on his promise to meet with them, which he had made at one of the protests that the collective organized.

Several students also noted that, despite an informal apology at the impromptu February 13 town hall for the Faculty of Arts, Frémont has also failed to issue a public apology for the controversial Scientology exhibit. The exhibit, titled “Psychiatry: An Industry of Death,” condemned the treatment of mental illnesses as fraudulent and linked it to phenomena such as the Holocaust and slavery.

“Nothing is being done,” added Skaf. “Everyone just puts on a suit and comes to school and talks. I’m tired of empty promises.”

Although the language used by university officials when discussing the crisis is collaborative, it is experienced by students very much on their own. 

Disconnect between the administration and the student body, lack of access to competent and specialized mental health care, and the necessity of continued and strenuous protest in order to garner attention from U of O’s decision makers prove that the burden of improving the system falls primarily on the shoulders of its students. 

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At U of T, it’s difficult to identify a precise source of the mental health crisis, but one thing that students continually point to is the unhealthy and competitive nature of academic life.

The Department of Computer Science is one particularly stark example of how academic pressures are placing unbearable stress on students.

The Bahen Centre is well known around campus for being a hub for the mathematics, computer science, and engineering departments. A student in any of those programs is likely to spend much of their time passing in and out of the building.

With each death at the Bahen Centre, more attention was paid to the Department of Computer Science and what students saw as unfair academic requirements.

The department is well known for its competitive program of study (POSt) requirements, meaning that students who are admitted into the program in first-year must achieve certain marks in order to remain in the program. Students who want to transfer into the program also must attain equally high grades, and space is very limited.

Since the deaths on campus, computer science students have been outspoken about how the department needs reform to fix its competitive nature.

In the past year, the department has begun introducing changes, including plans to increase the number of students admitted to the program and change POSt requirements in order to “eliminate competition among [first year] students.”

These are among the first changes that any department at U of T has proposed to target the academic culture. They will be implemented for this upcoming school year, and it remains to be seen whether other departments and faculties will follow.

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It took three deaths in the Bahen Centre before U of T installed safety barriers on the higher floors of the building. Since then, there have not been any suicides in the building.

However, student groups have not stopped pushing the administration to follow through on its commitments to improve mental health services and address the criticisms raised by students of the academic culture at the university.

“We are deeply committed to student well-being and success. As demand for mental health services has increased, we have increased supports and services for student mental health over the last few years,” wrote Welsh. “We know that there are areas where we can do better, and we’re taking action to make these improvements.”

At U of O, it took four deaths for a press conference, and no amount of student suffering has succeeded in summoning a public audience with the university’s highest ranking officials. 

But structural shifts and acknowledgement of failures by the university’s mental health care providers are reason enough to hope. 

Clark is inheriting her role at the forefront of U of O’s mental health crisis at a turbulent time, but feels confident that she has experienced some successes thus far nonetheless. She cites increased hours, the introduction of a stepped-care model, the wait-free triage system, and the hiring of four new counsellors as some of her victories so far.

And like U of T, the students at the U of O are not ready to give up the fight.

At the end of her interview, Skaf pointed to something Frémont said at the March 12 town hall: “You have to change the ideas of the majority.” 

“I don’t want [anything] to do with your majority,” said Skaf. “I don’t want none of it. Minor, minor, minor — they always say it’s not a lot of people, but it’s actually more prevalent than [you’d think]. There’s no majority, there’s no minority. It’s just us.”


If you or someone you know is in distress, you can call:

Canada Suicide Prevention Service phone available 24/7 at 1-833-456-4566

Good 2 Talk Student Helpline at 1-866-925-5454

Ontario Mental Health Helpline at 1-866-531-2600

Gerstein Centre Crisis Line at 416-929-5200

U of T Health & Wellness Centre at 416-978-8030.

 

Warning signs of suicide include:

Talking about wanting to die

Looking for a way to kill oneself

Talking about feeling hopeless or having no purpose

Talking about feeling trapped or being in unbearable pain

Talking about being a burden to others

Increasing use of alcohol or drugs

Acting anxious, agitated, or recklessly

Sleeping too little or too much

Withdrawing or feeling isolated

Showing rage or talking about seeking revenge

Displaying extreme mood swings

 

The more of these signs a person shows, the greater the risk. If you suspect someone you know may be contemplating suicide, you should talk to them, according to the Canadian Association for Suicide Prevention.