Content warning: This article discusses misogyny and sexism.

Academic success for students can hang above our heads due to parental expectations, but it is also deeply part of popular culture. Media glamorizes academic rigour through social media trends — such as the dark academia aesthetic, which romanticizes an obsession with knowledge — and in movies — from dramas like Good Will Hunting to comedies like Legally Blonde — with a genius protagonist whose intelligence will be validated by an Ivy League professor.

The value of academic validation by high marks or genius is predominantly emphasized in academia, especially in institutions with strong reputations like U of T.

However, a successful academic experience shouldn’t only be defined by grades but also by each student’s ability to prevail. It should be determined by the blood, sweat, and tears students shed when they overcome personal issues and societal expectations, regardless of their GPA or how long it took them to triumph over the obstacles that once held them back.

Non-linear success stories portray life’s unrelenting challenges and people’s capacity to persevere and overcome. I interviewed three U of T students and alumni about their nonlinear success stories, and here is what they had to say.

“It’s so important to genuinely believe that you do belong.”

When fourth-year student Vanessa Wiltshire was in high school, she was a self-described “ambitious student” with a clear academic plan. Then, at the age of 16, she was blindsided by a lung cancer diagnosis for which she had to undergo extensive treatment. She failed courses and it took her seven years to complete high school.

Once she graduated high school — still recovering from her tiresome battle with cancer — her next step was university. One month shy of her 21st birthday, Wiltshire began her undergraduate degree in 2014.

“I was already a mature student,” said Wiltshire about entering her first-year as an almost 21-year-old, “and felt ‘behind.’” She was struggling with severe mental health challenges, but she carried on, choosing to specialize in human geography and minor in geographic information systems.

Her first year at U of T was a success and she passed all her courses. Still, obstacles arose. In the summer of 2015, Wiltshire failed her first university course — the first of several. The following three years involved other course failures and late withdrawals. She was eventually placed on a one-year restriction from the financial aid program OSAP in the summer of 2017 and was forced to leave the university.

“I was forced to leave school, and my mental health was the worst [it] had ever been. I felt like a failure. I wasn’t sure I belonged at U of T or belonged at university… I felt really, really awful about myself,” she said.

Wiltshire described this period of cyclically failing some courses, withdrawing from others, and taking semesters off on repeat as “so demoralizing.”

Tired of failing courses, and compromising her mental health by pushing herself to take courses she was going to fail, she decided to take a break and “did some soul-searching.” She reconsidered whether university was the right place for her and looked into college programs as an alternative. Eventually, Wiltshire decided that she would finish what she started.

“I’m proud of myself, and I know that when I finally get to walk across that stage at Convocation Hall, all the tears and struggles and petitions will have been worth it.”

“I acknowledged that I had put so much work into completing my degree, and I truly believed that I was capable. I didn’t want to give up and walk away from something that meant the world to me.”

Fall of 2021, Wiltshire stepped foot on campus once more. She passed all her classes every semester over the next three years at U of T. During these three years, she recognized her limits, asked for help, prioritized her well-being, and made decisions that put herself first — things she did not do in the past.

By asking her physician to identify her as a student with a permanent disability, she was able to take a reduced course load and receive financial support, both of which helped alleviate the stress that overburdened her in previous years. By reaching out to mental health resources on campus, and by communicating with her instructors, Wiltshire found the strength she needs to succeed.

“I finally feel adequately supported by my school… including my really incredible department, geography and planning — shout out to them, they’re so amazing,” she said.

For the longest time, Wiltshire did not feel like she belonged at U of T. She felt “a sense of otherness,” which isolated her. She was insecure about not progressing through school like everyone else seemed to be.

“[It] used to make me so insecure when I would be in classes with students, [and they talked about] taking six credits so they could finish in three years,” Wiltshire said.

Over the course of Wiltshire’s journey, she came to understand that academic success isn’t always linear. Although Wiltshire still faces challenges, especially with her mental health, the difference between previous years and now is that she finally feels supported and accepted — and that feeling makes all the difference.

Wiltshire came forward to share her story to inspire others who may be facing similar struggles in their academic journeys. As Wiltshire says: “It’s easy to fall into this trap of belief that everyone else is on this very straight, linear path, and you’re the only one whose journey looks a little bit different.”

“Then from that, [it feels] like a judgment call on you that you’re lesser than in some way, or you’re a worse student… you’re a worse person. It’s just so easy for it to snowball into all these really negative thoughts and beliefs about yourself.”

Wiltshire wants to let other students know they are not alone. Whether you are taking three or ten years to graduate, you have nevertheless earned your identity as a student.

“Regardless of your personal journey, whether it aligns with the traditional four-year university experience, you belong,” she said. “It’s so important to genuinely believe that you do belong.”

Wiltshire’s story subverts academic standards of success: she didn’t get the perfect grades or graduate within the four-year timeline. Instead, her success stems from her ability to deal with the personal struggles she encountered and still prevail in the end. Despite the mental and physical health hurdles that led to many of her academic challenges, she kept going until she felt confident in her sense of success.

“I’m proud of myself, and I know that when I finally get to walk across that stage at Convocation Hall, all the tears and struggles and petitions will have been worth it.”

Vanessa Wiltshire will be graduating this coming spring, 2025.

“It has taught me to never give up”

Robert Killoran has his own academic success story to tell. It is not one of obtaining the highest GPA but rather one of perseverance and overcoming defeatism that spanned almost 30 years

“Life is filled with roadblocks: some big, some small, some short term, some long term. But, there is always a way to find the finish line.”

Upholding the social expectation of entering university the fall after graduating high school, Killoran enrolled at UTSC in the fall of 1996 to study political science. His first year of university did not go well and he was put on academic probation in the spring of 1997 — which would last until the summer of 2023.

“I went back for my second year, and I didn’t even officially drop out of school,” Killoran recounted in an interview with The Varsity. “In about January or February of my second year, I just put my hands up and said, ‘I don’t really want to be here. This is kind of a waste of my time.’”

He decided to go and find a job before coming back to school again two years later. Between 1999 and 2003, however, Robert was in and out of school — re-enrolling and then leaving due to suspensions and academic probations.

It was February of 2002 when Killoran decided to take a pause. “I basically just ran out of steam, and I was like, ‘You know what? I just don’t think school is for me.’ It was just too difficult. I just wasn’t enjoying it,” he said.

While still enrolled in courses, he left the university but did not officially withdraw. This would become his biggest mistake: the zeros on his transcript as a result of not officially dropping out haunted him, and his tanked GPA hung over his head.

“I had a bunch of library books I had to return to the library. I didn’t. I was on campus, and I threw them in the garbage. I was just — I just had it with school… mentally, emotionally, I [just] did not want to do it.”

Thinking he was done with school, Killoran entered the workforce in 2003. For five years, it would continue to bother him that he never finished university. Finally, in 2008, Killoran had decided again to finish what he started.

“I felt more disappointed in myself for wasting time and money and having nothing to show for it,” Killoran explained. “Some people do not have the opportunity to go to university, yet I did several times. All those times, I took it for granted. I felt worse… not because I did not have the chance to go but rather [because] I had the chance, several times, and I blew it.”

Returning to school was no easy feat: Killoran debated between transferring universities and restarting with a fresh transcript. Eventually, he decided to stay at U of T. He reached out to the Academic Resource Centre at UTSC as well as the academic counsellors in the political science department for help. He finally re-enrolled in 2018 after years of deliberation and overcoming a sense of defeatism.

“It bothered me for years that I squandered the opportunity to finish what I had started. People… always told me that [a] trait of mine was that if I put my mind to something — I would see it to the end.”

Killoran had to pay a fine for the library books he threw out. He returned with a GPA of 0.75 and had to increase it to 1.6 in order to graduate. He had to add more programs to his degree, a major in public policy and a minor in public law because his GPA was so low; he wouldn’t be able to increase it with only a specialist in political science. Killoran was also still on academic probation.

“From 2018 until 2024, I was getting As or Bs and it was like moving an iceberg for my GPA because after a while it wasn’t moving anymore. It was a 1.2, then a 1.23, and… over time, slowly and slowly, it was just inching towards that 1.6,” Killoran said.

“It’s a horrible [GPA], but that’s what I was striving to hit because I knew I had two years of those zeros, those F marks, that were not really a reflection of what I knew. It was a reflection of being too immature to officially drop out of school and that’s why that decision just haunted me throughout the whole way.”

Everything Killoran did ended up paying off. He was off academic probation. He increased his GPA. He succeeded.

“There is always a way to achieve your dreams. Life is filled with roadblocks: some big, some small, some short term, some long term. But, there is always a way to find the finish line.”

Killoran hopes his story can reach those having doubts about themselves and says that it’s never too late to achieve your goals and dreams, no matter how long it can take or how many roadblocks there are. He wants them to know learning is neither a race nor a competition. His personal journey began with feelings of defeat but ended with triumph.

Killoran graduated in 2024 — 28 years after he started his degree. “[My experience] has taught me to never give up.”

“I feel like I’m in control of my life”

Shanaya Seddiqui was 16 years old when she moved from Pakistan to Canada for an arranged marriage. Now, she is in her thirties and a third-year mental health studies student at UTSC.

Being born and having lived her early life in Afghanistan, Seddiqui had a strict upbringing. She battled many stigmas and social pressures due to her gender, like adhering to a strict dress code and being forced to stay home. When she was very young, she and her family immigrated to Pakistan. At 16, Seddiqui was made to pack her bags and leave her family in Pakistan to enter an arranged marriage with a man who lived in Canada.

“All of a sudden, you’re going into a new family that you know nothing about, and even the person that you’re marrying, you know nothing about him,” said Seddiqui. The decision to leave was her family’s decision, not her own.

When she first arrived in Canada, Seddiqui finished high school and did a year of college, but she couldn’t continue her studies. Despite being in Canada, where Seddiqui says “a woman has a say [in] what they want and what they don’t want,” she felt she had little control of her life once she officially entered her arranged marriage.

“I was crying constantly for so long [here] that I had to see a doctor… because it was difficult to accept what was going on in my life,” she recalled.

Seddiqui said she was in her marriage “for quite a few years.” One day, she was finally able to get a divorce.

Although Seddiqui’s divorce meant she had more autonomy over life — which included the freedom to pursue higher education — her battle was not over. Seddiqui faced a lack of support from Afghan communities in Canada. Due to the deep-rooted stigmas for women in Afghan culture, even once a woman was granted a divorce, the idea that she could pursue a life of independence was unacceptable.

But Seddiqui would not sit at home — she eventually decided to go back to school.

The academic transcripts Seddiqui had were not accepted by Canadian institutions, and the schools she previously attended in Pakistan were not recognized. She had to start again as a grade 12 student to get the necessary credits in order to become an undergraduate student at U of T. At the same time, Seddiqui had to work to support her family, as they had immigrated to Switzerland to achieve a better life, shortly after she had moved to Canada.

When Seddiqui was eventually accepted into UTSC, she finally had the means to pursue the path that she had always wanted for herself: education. “I feel like I’m in control of my life. And I feel like I can make a decision for myself. My decision was to go back to school,” Seddiqui explained.

Overcoming the struggles and challenges of her life gave Seddiqui a sense of resilience and determination.

“I feel like I will be able to overcome [anything] because nothing is permanent. The obstacles that [do] come my way, I will be thinking [of them] in a way that it is temporary and it’s going to pass.”

Seddiqui mustered the courage to share her story because she wanted to let others know that no matter who you are or where you are from, nothing should hinder you from pursuing what you want, and education does not require a certain age.

Trying to help others who may be in similar situations, she created a club at UTSC called the Mature and Transitional Year Students Program Association. Through the club, she attempts to help other mature and transitional year students — students who must take prerequisite courses with the university before registering for an undergraduate degree — by supporting them in the face of their obstacles and advocating for them.

Seddiqui is sharing her story not to be pitied or to be seen as a victim. Rather, she wants others to have faith in themselves, be persistent in pursuing their goals, and know that they can overcome anything — they too can succeed.

“I’m telling my story for others to know that you don’t have to suffer in silence. You don’t have to feel like you’re being victimized. [Instead,] you’re just like, ‘Yeah, something happened, and I can overcome it.’”