Re:New New College Alumni & Friends Magazine, Home Edition 2018/19

Re:New Running Head

New College Alumni & Friends Magazine Home Edition 2018/19

WHAT

IS

HOME?

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Running Head

PHOTO: MICHAEL BARKER

Plan Bee

A glimpse into the intricate lives of the tiny but mighty pollinators with New College beekeeper Tom Nolan. Page 12

Contents 1 What Is Home?

An introduction 2 Indigenous Grounds Perspectives on placemaking 4 Fire Loss and luck in disaster 6 Lollipop Diplomacy A trip to Rwanda changes perspectives 8 Where Are You From?

A common question turned on its head 10 Direct Entry Easing the transition to U of T

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12 Plan Bee Pollinator talk with New College’s beekeeper 20 Scroll, Swipe, Tap Science learning in social media 24 Dwelling in Disability Ability in context 26 Room with a NEW 28 Postcards from Afar Alumni define home 30 In memoriam: Donald G. Ivey 31 NEW Finds 32 A Year in the Life of NEW

34 Giving Back: Our Donors 36 NEW Notes

Acknowledgments

publisher Alison Liddell (New ’88) Editor and Principal Writer Petra Dreiser EDITOR Sheila Stewart CONTRIBUTORS Tyler Cousin (New ’16) Nyerere Lawrence Sarah Nathanson Teah Pelechaty Ramin Rahimian Nina Raynars Brenda Registe (Caribbean Studies ’01) Connie Tsang ART DIRECTION AND DESIGN Acme Art & Design cover photo Michael Barker proofreader Angela Wingfield, Fine Tune Communications CORRESPONDENCE AND UNDELIVERABLE COPIES TO New College Office of Advancement 300 Huron Street Toronto, ON M5S 3J6 This magazine is published annually by the Office of Advancement at New College, University of Toronto, and is circulated to more than 22,000 alumni and friends in print and digital formats.

Published March 2019 renew.newcollege.utoronto.ca newcollege.utoronto.ca twitter.com/NewCollegeUofT

What Is Home? An Introduction

I do not think of home as a place, only. Nor do I think belonging is the most important of our possibilities, long for it though we might. I believe home is a way of thinking, an idea of belonging, which matters more to us than the thing itself.

Where we are, who we are, who we are with: these are so intertwined as to be inseparable. What we owe to ourselves we owe to others.”

— ESI EDUGYAN

H

ome as an idea, a guide, an abstraction beyond place, though without excluding geography—that is where the Canadian writer Esi Edugyan arrives toward the end of Dreaming of Elsewhere: Observations on Home (2014), her beautiful meditation on that seemingly familiar yet elusive concept. In the pages that follow in this latest edition of New College’s alumni and friends magazine, we too, in true NEW fashion, have attempted to shine a light on the term home from various angles. And like Edugyan, we perhaps arrive at more questions than answers, at possibilities rather than firm convictions. But that will be up to you to decide.

We invite you to come along on the journey that winds its way through the stories and images we have gathered here. You will hear about alumni recent and slightly less recent, about teachers, current students, a former principal and our beekeeper. All of them, we hope, will make you think and rethink the concept of home, both as reassurance and as contention. You will find home discussed in terms of place (and its history), but also in terms of the body, contemporary technology, citizenship, belonging, the environment, personal objects and more.

Our college prides itself on a diverse community—at this moment, our students hail from 72 different countries, while NEW alumni reside in 35 distinct nations around the globe. But as one of the articles in this issue will remind you, these numbers tell you very little about the actual richness that exists among the people of New College.

Thank you for being one of them, and thank you for reading. We would love to hear from you, so if you would like to share your thoughts with us, please email editor.renew@utoronto.ca.

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Running Head Indigenous Grounds

INDIGENOUS A conversation with Métis advocate and teacher Doug Anderson about Indigenous placemaking, cultural resurgence and hope.

We’re asking that all the people who have been here, all those who are going to be here and all the layers of the universe that we really can’t perceive are respected. And then we’re home.”

— DOUG ANDERSON

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The students give Doug Anderson hope. Every Monday afternoon since the beginning of the semester, he and they have met in class to talk and swing things around. Because that, ideally, is what Anderson designed NEW348 (Special Topics in Equity Studies: Indigenous Relationships with Place in Urban Centres) to do: to take accepted notions and assumptions and turn them inside out and on their head.

The idea of an inverted perspective, of a radical transformation, is an urgent matter to Anderson—and has been for decades. The co-founder of both Invert Media and NKG (Naadmaagit Ki Group, Anishinaabe for “Helpers of the Earth”), whose family is Bungi (Bungee) Métis from Manitoba, is currently pursuing his doctoral studies in education at York University, but Anderson has taken on the roles of educator and advocate for most of his life. Or, as he prefers to say, he intervenes as “a kind of helper or civil servant” to facilitate and ensure respectful, ethical and appropriate processes and representation in interactions between Indigenous communities and various kinds of bureaucracies and institutions in Canada.

This can mean many things. Invert Media provides and disseminates, in a variety of print and digital formats, ideas rooted in Indigenous knowledge. It always happens in close collaboration

with First Nations, Métis and Inuit communities, prioritizing the cultural protocols that exist in each group.

The grassroots organization NKG uses agricultural initiatives to restore connections that Indigenous people have to natural land in the city. And as an educator in schools and universities, Anderson shares with people from diverse cultural backgrounds Indigenous perspectives on land and place and how these can—and must, in fact—inform current debates on almost any topic in this country.

Anderson has worked in and alongside the halls of institutional power in government and education long enough to recognize real signs of change. In recent years, he has seen many people in leadership roles show a genuine openness and commitment to transformation, attitudes that have replaced the more widespread bigotry and dismissal of the past. But—we may be running out of time. “There’s an ecological, economic and social sort of paralysis and breakdown, and it’s escalating,” he says. These developments—long in the making—have now created a general sense of urgency, but also, among Indigenous communities, a cultural resurgence. Either way, Anderson claims, people understand that we, meaning everyone, need to get moving: “We are going to have to light the metaphorical fire.”

Indigenous Running Grounds Head

GROUNDS Which brings us back to New College and the undergraduates in NEW348. They, and young people like them, Anderson believes, whether they are Indigenous or not, hold the key to the future: because their minds are more open, their energy more bountiful and their outside responsibilities less weighty. Giving youth the tools to fully understand Indigenous perspectives, which in their groundedness and particular spiritual orientation differ quite markedly from many nonIndigenous ones, might actually bring about reshaped attitudes and behaviours.

It offers a better alternative to the culture of brief consultation (as well intended as the latter may be), which often narrows and compresses Indigenous conceptualizations to the point of disappearance.

Besides, even in a generally non-religious framework such as Canada, “the one thing that’s left that I think everyone can agree is sacred is their children,” Anderson states. Their insights and well-being thus hold a particular power even for an older generation.

So what happens in the course?

During the 12 weeks of class, the students are obviously exposed to certain reading materials and a number of lectures.

More important, however, will be the experiential component of their learning: immersing themselves in the land outside, entering into conversations with guests, building deeper connections

with each other through shared activities.

Challenging questions will weave their way through most days: What makes an ally? What do the covenants and treaties really mean? Might the covenants, rather than legislation, be used as tools that enable everyone on the territories to share the land in a balanced and healthy way? How do symbols structure perceptions and how can completely tearing a symbol apart and reconstructing it lead to changed outcomes? To Anderson, the course quite simply constitutes “an opportunity to really move a group of people into a deeper awareness, also of the implications of all these ideas.”

It’s a mouthful, he admits, but an essential task, also in relationship to the complex and potentially contentious concept of home. A better sense of home for everyone, Anderson believes, emerges from less disruption, less disjointedness, less unsettledness between elements.

And he hopes the next generation, the one he’s helping educate now, might come closer to this ideal: “We’re asking that all the people who have been here, all those who are going to be here and all the layers of the universe that we really can’t perceive are respected. And then we’re home.”

How do symbols structure perceptions and how can completely tearing a symbol apart and reconstructing it lead to changed outcomes?

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Fire: Of Loss and Luck

Fire: Of Loss and Luck New College alumnus Harris Rosen reflects on a day that changed the life of his family forever.

October 8, 2017, seemed like the perfect day: sunny and warm, the terrace overlooking the vineyard full of balloons and squealing seven-year-olds, birthday cake on the picnic table. Even 10-year-old Mason, who usually considered himself too cool for that kind of girly stuff, had a blast that Sunday afternoon at his twin sisters’ birthday party in Santa Rosa, California.

Maybe it was just the kind of carefree autumn weekend that Harris Rosen (New ’88) and his wife, Jennifer Friedman, had imagined when, earlier that year, they had decided to press pause on their demanding Toronto professional lives and on cold Canadian winters by temporarily moving themselves, their three children and their dog west and

had been tucked into their beds, not a worry clouded their parents’ minds. The first indication that something was awry came later, at around 10 p.m., when the sturdy, typically unmoving branches of a few old oak trees surrounding the house bent close enough to a bedroom window to graze the glass. At the same time, Leo, the family’s well-trained and generally quiet Tibetan terrier, started maniacally running around the large, open-space home, peeing on the floor, barking and shaking with anxiety. Rosen stepped onto a back balcony in response—and almost found himself toppled over. Gone was the afternoon’s serenity. What later turned out to be 80-mile-an-hour winds were whipping heavy patio umbrellas and garden furniture through the air like toys. The couple also noticed something Wildfires consume millions of acres, else—the faint smell of smoke around cost taxpayers billions of dollars and, the house. “Like a besides the human toll they take, campfire, you know,” destroy fauna and flora in gruesome ways. Rosen said, “actually very pleasant. We’re Canadians, we own a across the border to Sonoma County. cottage up north on Lake Simcoe, we love It made sense on so many levels: The that smell. It’s homey.” couple, committed oenophiles, had long Still, as responsible parents and new ago fallen in love with Northern CaliforCalifornians, they called the Sonoma nia wine country and wanted to test out County Sheriff’s Office to check on poswhether their children would enjoy living sible causes for concern. There were, after in the region as much as they themselves all, gale-like winds uncommon for the desired to retire there in the future. area and Leo running berserk in the living Successful and lucrative careers in law— room. But the official on the other end of Friedman is a prominent animal welfare the line told them not to worry. While the lawyer, while Rosen focuses on legal office had reports of about six wildfires at matters in higher education—further the time, if the Rosen family did not see provided them with both the means and any flames from their elevated property, the freedom to relocate on a trial basis. they faced no threat and could go to sleep So they made the jump. with a clear conscience.

When the sun set that Sunday evening The sheriff was mistaken. Less than and the children, happily exhausted, two hours later, through a fortunate 4 Re:New 2018

combination of gut instinct, a high-tech emergency alarm system routed to the household’s land line and a persistently apprehensive canine, Rosen and Friedman found just enough time to grab their kids, the dog, their phones, a laptop and their wallets and escape thickening smoke and encroaching fires in their minivan. Rosen remembers the disorientation caused by the shock of waking to sooty air, the silent prayers of a nonreligious (“but God-fearing”) man for the safety of his family and the life-or-death alertness required by his wife to navigate the narrow, winding roads around their property. A turn in the wrong direction or a missed branch on the path could mean the end.

They made it out unscathed, physically at least. As the couple details in their written account of the ordeal, Red Skies after Midnight: Escaping the Wine Country Fires (available through Facebook), proceeds of which support victims of the fire through Habitat for Humanity Sonoma County, the family spent the following week in various hotels at a safe distance from the flames. Yet a terse text message from a neighbour on the morning of October 10 announced what they did not want to hear: “Very bad news, Godspeed.” In translation, that meant that by 1:30 a.m. of the night the family had scrambled down Bastoni Lane to escape the soot, a vicious blaze had incinerated their magnificent, art- and heirloom-filled house, leaving in its wake nothing but a desolate landscape of ash.

Ash and melted titanium from the wheels of a second car, indicating that temperatures in the fire had reached at least 1,668° Celsius, that metal’s melting point.

At the time, what became known as the Tubbs Fire was the most destructive wildfire in California history, burning

Fire: Of Loss and Luck

PHOTO: RAMIN RAHIMIAN

The bike of Taylor Rosen, one of the twin girls, unearthed after the fire.

huge swaths of land and levelling more than 5,600 structures and entire communities. (That dubious title now belongs to the Camp Fire of 2018.) Since 2015, the number of wildfires in California and elsewhere has steadily increased, socalled fire seasons are lasting longer and megafires now more often occur at unconventional times, such as in rainy season.

Wildfires consume millions of acres, cost taxpayers billions of dollars and, besides the human toll they take, destroy fauna and flora in gruesome ways.

Not just in that context do Harris Rosen and his family consider themselves lucky: unlike others, they escaped the firestorm alive, received due insurance

compensation for many of the items lost, even unearthed a few mangled but precious mementos from the rubble (including a silver Kiddush cup from the couple’s wedding) and had the financial means to continue their lives more or less unchanged. After a brief interlude back in Thornhill, they in fact returned to their beloved Sonoma in July 2018, though not to the same property.

Yet the fire and its aftermath had an impact. The experience of material loss helped all five family members refocus on the irreplaceable: people, relationships, community. It also highlighted the importance of empathy. Rosen admitted to struggling with the silence proffered by

some people in response to the family’s misfortune. Often, he knew, it stemmed simply from not knowing what to say. Yet any expression of commiseration would have made a difference. So, he says, the adage “Home is where the heart is” has taken on a double meaning for him after the fire: Home is where the people we love are, yes. But we can also create the feeling of home by extending our hearts beyond their boundaries of personal experience—by showing empathy.

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Lollipop Diplomacy

LOLLIPOP DIPLOMACY A trip to Rwanda leaves recent graduate Dawood Arian with a transformed perspective.

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I considered myself enlightened on these matters; I thought it couldn’t happen to me.”

— DAWOOD ARIAN

PHOTO: MICHAEL BARKER

In conversation with Dawood Arian (New ’18), one thing becomes clear quite quickly: he is no man to shy away from SOMETIMES difficult questions. Trained as a YOU SURPRISE political scientist, with years of YOURSELF. experience working at a bank, most recently as an anti-moneylaundering analyst at the Royal Bank of Canada (RBC), he tends to aim straight for the heart of a matter, be it uncomfortable or not. Poking holes into narratives too neatly woven, in fact, has turned into a bit of a pastime for him.

Yet it is not maliciousness, or a mournful disposition toward the world, that leads him to scratch at the veneer of everyday life. Rather the opposite drives him—a deep curiosity about how and why people and systems operate the way they do. So it made complete sense for him to supplement his Political Science courses with a class on African philosophy in his final undergraduate year, and to leap at the opportunity to travel to Rwanda in early 2018 with seven of his fellow students and their professor, Aggrey Wasike of the African Studies program at NEW. For 10 days, Arian hoped, the non-Western perspectives on politics they had studied in theory would come to life on the ground in the Rwandan capital, Kigali, and further afield.

Slight trepidation about the trip made its way into his consciousness slowly, though ever more forcefully. All of a sudden, the seasoned traveller worried about health and hygiene, safety and comfort. Only on arrival in the small central East African country did Arian recognize what had happened to him.

The capital city’s gleaming skyscrapers, modern infrastructure and bustling business life surprised him, and they did because he had landed with the frequently televised version of “Africa” nestled in his head: little huts, hungry children in rags, sickness, safari, social backwardness and an economy stuck in the past.

The realization struck a sensitive chord. As the son of Afghan refugees who had come to Canada with his immediate

PHOTO: NINA RAYNARS

PHOTO: NYERERE LAWRENCE

Lollipop Diplomacy

A view of the Kigali skyline.

Who doesn't love a lollipop? Nyerere Lawrence, one of Dawood's classmates, shares treats.

family at the age of six in 2000, he had thought himself immune to such misguided ideas. “I considered myself enlightened on these matters; I thought it couldn’t happen to me,” he admits.

“I mean, my family comes from a beautiful, complex country forever portrayed one-dimensionally in the Western media.

I should have known better than to be so judgmental. But I guess I needed another reminder.”

The almost two weeks that followed thus became a concerted effort to let go of preconceived notions, a practice of staying open and a study in the nature and power of perception.

It struck Arian how a country that had lain in ruins after the 1994 genocide—a disaster that had quite literally torn apart its societal core—had managed not only to recover through restorative rather than retributive justice but also to imagine itself anew. Today, the country boasts some (at least outwardly) progressive statistics: more than 50 per cent of Rwanda’s members of parliament are women; a homegrown povertyalleviation program called Girinka (“may you have one cow”), which encourages self-sustainability, has shown immense success; the country has become a leader in mountain gorilla conservancy; authorities strictly enforce a ban on plastic bags; Rwanda is making comparative strides in disability services and rights; and the final Sunday of each month is dedicated to Umuganda, hours of community service prescribed for all adult Rwandans under 65.

Many of these programs, especially Umuganda, have their critics, who claim that the country’s apparent order and modernity mask the steely grip of an authoritarian government that imposes unity. And, of course, Arian, ever the poser of hardnosed questions, wondered too about the sheen of perfection presented to him and his classmates on their trip. Yet he also understood, sometimes through conversations in the street with ordinary Rwandans, how important it was for people to have their efforts at reconciliation and progress recognized by visitors from elsewhere. Instead of dwelling on the horrors of the past, Arian noticed, many people wanted to focus on the possibilities of a brighter future, and on the steps presently taken to make

it happen. “The request I most often received from them,” Arian says, “was to return home and become an ambassador for Rwanda—to talk about the past and how far they had come.”

The general desire for—and importance of—acceptance and acknowledgment as a human being, despite some differences perceived or real, struck Arian as possibly the most important lesson of those 10 days, one he has taken back to life in Toronto and to possible plans for his professional future. In a historical moment so often seemingly focused on the opposite, on anxiously guarded lines of separation, the task appeared strangely simple to achieve: In the streets of Kigali, a bike borrowed for a few minutes from a local motorcycle taxi driver established a kinship well beyond language, as did the hundreds of lollipops Arian purchased and distributed among children in villages throughout the country. “Lollipop diplomacy” he calls it, and not just because he thinks a small gift will instill goodwill in the recipient or because he realized the joy of giving for the giver. “Let’s be honest here—who doesn’t love a lollipop?” Arian asks rhetorically. “It’s in those brief moments that we recognize how similar we all are.”

Sometimes the hard questions have to take a break.

SOMETIMES YOU SURPRISE YOURSELF.

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Where Are You From?

Where Are You From?

Rethinking a common question Teah Pelechaty

Growing up, I hated this question. It almost certainly warranted a monologue on my part. I am the daughter of European parents of different nationalities and, by the age of 15, I had already lived in five countries (none of which was that of either parent). I had a passport from one, knew the language of the other and yet any listener would have been hard pressed to pinpoint my neutral accent, inevitably garnered from an international education in English.

My initial response to the question “Where are you from?” was that I was Omani. Having lived in the Sultanate of Oman for the first eight years of my life, my nine-year-old self felt that this would naturally be the case. Yet this answer generally met with dissatisfaction, as I was neither ethnically Omani nor possessed a passport from the country or spoke its official language. “No, where are you really from?” It was true, I was not Omani, but neither was I from my parents’ home nations nor was I Malaysian, Australian or a native of any of the other countries I had lived in.

While you may argue that my parents’ peripatetic lifestyle added to the difficulty of answering this apparently simple question about origins, I think it has never necessarily been an easy one for many people, and it is becoming increasingly more complex to answer in a very interconnected, globalized world.

Migration is not a new concept, of course: wars, politics, marriage, need, economic opportunity and simple curiosity have made people shift place for centuries. Long gone are the days in which one might ascribe an identity to an individual with ease, national or otherwise. Today, borders are becoming more fluid (though still incredibly hard to surmount for some), leading to ever-decreasing homogeneity within many societies.

Plus, let’s face it: the question itself is not always innocent.

Many people consider the query about “home” simply a page taken from the “Handbook of Polite Conversation,” something one asks about to show interest in another person. Yet the question may also come with some uncomfortable presump-

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tions. “No, where are you really from?” bears as much tact as “You can’t be X, you have blue eyes,” or “Sure, but why then do you wear a [insert qualifying noun here]?” In some cases, there is a nuanced undertone: you don’t belong here.

In my case, for example, answering the question “Where are you really from?”—even if I could do so with ease—wouldn’t reveal anything about who I really am. It doesn’t disclose where I grew up, or how and with what culture, that I broke my arm at age seven or that I won my Grade 6 spelling bee.

So, instead, let me ask this: What does this question about origins really tell us about ourselves?

Let’s take a moment to consider the elements that help shape us into the unique individuals we are. As human beings, we are defined by our personal experiences, by the diverse cultures that we have been exposed to, the people in our lives and the memories that we share with them. These elements can emerge from anywhere, surrounded by anyone, and they are not necessarily confined to a single geographic location.

Yes, for many, their country, or even region, of origin plays a significant role in their definition of self. That said, I would argue it is only one of many elements.

In addition to this, the country that may have had the most influence on a person’s life may not be the one stamped in bold letters on their passport, or the one that our outward appearance most “fits.” And if we’ve paid attention in history or political science class, we already know that the idea of what “fits” rarely corresponds to the demographics on the ground anyway.

Where Are You From?

It might be time to reconsider not only the answer to the question but also the significance we attach to that answer.

PHOTO: MICHAEL BARKER

So, where are you from? The next time someone asks you this, or you feel the urge to pose the question yourself, consider nuance. It might be time to rethink the meaning behind this run-of-the-mill question, and to reconsider not only the answer to it but also the significance we attach to that answer. I can assure you of one thing: it doesn’t tell you much about who is really standing in front of you.

Teah Pelechaty is a third-year student at the University of Toronto studying International Relations and Political Science. Having moved around most of her life, she is delighted to call Toronto her current home. Some readers may be familiar with Teah from a variety of New College alumni events, to which she contributes with characteristic verve and charm.

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Direct Entry

Direct Entry Lydia Gill, the University of Toronto’s first student recruitment officer for equity outreach and support, helps demystify undergraduate life for under-represented groups.

W

hen Lydia Gill (New ’12) began her undergraduate studies at the University of Toronto, it all seemed like a bit of a mystery. Words and concepts buzzed about her, but she did not really know how to grab a proper hold of them. The confusing concepts in question were not those taught in class. Those posed no particular problem. But what, exactly, was the function of a college? How did a major differ from a double major or a specialist designation? Did all workstudy positions involve research? And how did everyone expect her—a commuter student from Brampton with a part-time job in Vaughan, studying at the university’s St. George campus—to excel in her courses while also becoming actively engaged in student life? By the time she figured out the answers, Gill was close to graduation, having had to fumble her way through some of the labyrinth that is U of T more or less by herself. So when, six years later, the opportunity arose to help smooth that same path for other students, she leapt at it.

Since January 2018, Gill has served as the University of Toronto’s student recruitment officer for equity outreach and support, the institution’s first. The long title reflects the broad range—and significance—of the role. Established in response to a clear need within the university to better attract and serve under-represented communities, the position takes a tri-campus approach to “demystifying undergraduate life at U of T,” as Gill puts it, especially for those prospective students in the GTA who might otherwise feel that the globally renowned institution lies beyond their reach.

“What’s it really like?” they, and their parents or guardians, all want to know. Of course, that is a question most incoming and future students have, but it holds particular weight for those who do not easily see themselves reflected in the current makeup of the university—for various reasons. “I do work a lot with Black and Latin American students, and support

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Indigenous ones,” Gill says, but she admonishes us to remember that under-representation concerns more than questions of racialization. Students from various ethnic backgrounds may be the first in their family to attend university. Likewise, income, geography, physical ability or any number of other markers might lead to disproportionally low representation within the U of T community. Perhaps most important, these categories intersect, which can lead to a compounded sense of not belonging or, at the very least, of not knowing. It’s an experience all too familiar to Gill: “My sense of overwhelm when I first entered university came from a combination of factors—being a firstgen student, a racialized student, a commuter student, a student who had to work throughout undergrad as well. There are layers to those things.”

So, how does she respond? What is it like to study at the University of Toronto? Gill’s first ground rule: no sugar-coating.

“It will be challenging,“ she tells them. It will differ from the neatly structured requirements of high school, from the likely greater homogeneity of that environment, from the academic standards they know: “You’re going to another level, so you’re going to have to put out more, to work harder.” But she also emphasizes that such hurdles do not translate into impossibility, and backs it up with data: 90 per cent of students manage the transition from year one to year two (the rate is even higher in some programs). Plus, U of T boasts more than half a million alumni worldwide, showing that more than 500,000 students before the ones standing in front of Gill at any point have achieved what they are setting out to do. Gill does not mean to diminish individual struggles or concerns with these broad numeric strokes; she just tries to create perspective.

She also directs her young listeners’ attention to the many support systems they can access at the university’s three

Under-representation concerns more than questions of racialization.”

— LYDIA GILL

campuses. This means breaking down the idea of colleges or faculties and the administrative and academic resources they offer. It entails talking about the broad range of work-study positions available to students, the many awards and scholarships, the importance of mentorship. Above all, Gill explains to them what she thinks the constant refrain of “getting involved” with student life should translate into and why. “I always stress it’s really about finding community,” she says.

Here, as in most of her other advice, Gill draws on her own experiences as an undergraduate. It was when she discovered the office of the Black Students’ Association (BSA) in the basement of New College that she finally felt she had something to hold onto while navigating daily university life.

Direct Entry

‘ What’s it really like?’ they all want to know.”

PHOTO: MICHAEL BARKER

— LYDIA GILL

The relationships she nurtured in the BSA and, later, in CARSSU (the Caribbean Studies Student Union) changed Gill’s sense of belonging and, therefore, her entire undergrad experience. While she herself built strong culturally inflected affiliations, Gill insists that community does not have to be identity-based. If it floats your boat, the photography club might be the right place for you, or the fencing team.

Student groups like the BSA, or individual faculty or staff members throughout the university, support the kind of outreach and engagement work Gill performs, often on their own initiative and time. The BSA, for example, has for 19 years held the annual High School Conference to help encourage historically under-represented groups to pursue post-secondary education. Gill saw the impact she could have when volunteering at the conference as a student, and now, as a university employee, continues to collaborate with the BSA and a wide range of other groups and individuals to make U of T a more accessible and welcoming place to everyone.

Her official role may focus on those interested in the 700 direct-entry undergraduate programs available at the University of Toronto, but Gill weaves her network of co-operation and support broadly. “In an institution like this, the possibilities are endless once you start to collaborate,” she affirms. Nonetheless, everything, be it collaboration or community, begins with the individual, with oneself. In Gill’s words: “You have to foster in yourself and in your immediate environment the idea you want to see come to fruition. Eventually, your actions will ripple out and attract others with a similar mindset.” This attitude empowers—and it acknowledges personal responsibility. Lydia Gill is up for both.

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Running Plan Bee Head

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Running Head

PLAN BEE A glimpse into the intricate lives of the tiny but mighty pollinators with New College beekeeper Tom Nolan

PHOTOS: MICHAEL BARKER

“It’s not the bees that are in trouble.

The planet is in trouble.

We are in trouble.”

The answer came as a surprise, especially from the mouth of Tom Nolan, New College’s newly designated beekeeper and a man I had just watched handle the hives and their thousands of buzzing denizens on the roof of 45 Willcocks Street with the care and respect we usually reserve for our most cherished. …

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Plan Bee

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Plan Bee

On the roof of 45 Willcocks with Tom Nolan. Even though our honeybees are known for their non-aggressive behaviour, Nolan demonstrates the use of a smoker before inspecting a frame in one of the hives.

H

e was, of course, just making a point: While he concerns himself passionately with the health and well-being of his pollinator charges, and of honeybees in general, Nolan feels that the much-reported colony collapse and mass death of these insects point to a broader problem. Bees have survived and evolved for millions of years. They have, with adaptation, made it through an ice age—and they will adapt again. So, it’s not the bees that are in trouble. The planet is in trouble. We are in trouble.

Before we delve any deeper, a caveat: There are about 20,000 species of bees, of which Apis mellifera, the European honeybee, is only one. While almost all bees pollinate, only about half a dozen species produce honey, and many do not follow the complex social organization and behaviours we associate with honeybees: about half of all species are wild and solitary. Bees come in many colours and sizes, but no males of any species can sting. While the equally social bumblebees are native to North America, extant species of honeybee are not; European settlers first introduced them to the continent as agricultural aids. Fossil

findings show, however, that at least one now extinct species of honeybee existed in North America 14 million years ago.

But back to beekeeper Nolan and our New College honeybees.

What’s at Stake Nolan, an organic beekeeper and founder of the Urban Toronto Beekeepers’ Association, absolutely believes that healthy bees mean a healthy planet. The pollinators’ struggles showcase stressors on the environment that affect humans as well, directly and indirectly. While he sometimes tires of the common assertion that “one in three bites of food comes from pollination,” he does not disagree.

We could probably survive without the fruits, vegetables and grasses pollinated by bees and other insects, but it would certainly make our diets less balanced and flavourful.

To him, the big concern is current agricultural practices. Harmful pesticides make for one side of the equation. Yet the uncontrolled use of these chemicals goes hand in hand with the spread of large-scale commercial monoculture, and monoculture means the loss of forage, creating a double blow for bees and other

pollinators. In that context, pests like the parasitic mite Varroa destructor and diseases such as American foulbrood, which usually attack already weakened organisms, flourish. So dying bees should serve as a warning—what is killing them also has an impact on our health and our food supply. It can also kill us.

Beguiling Bees Honeybees fascinate because of the intricacy of their social structures and the immense power their tiny bodies wield in our ecosystems. The changing needs of the colony—depending on the time of year, the health of the organism and the status of a resident queen, for example— rule everything.

Through the size of the cells they construct for the queen’s eggs, worker bees decide the female-male ratio in the colony at any given time: the queen will know to drop an unfertilized egg into a larger cell (which she measures with her front legs) to produce a (male) drone, and a fertilized egg into a smaller cell for a (female) worker bee. Even an aging, less fertile queen will not be killed off until a newly raised virgin queen (who will have ensured that no competitors could hatch) Re:New 2018 15

Plan Bee

Life in the hive. In the final close-up, we see a young bee hatching. On the opposite page, we find, crowded by worker bees, the queen bee with her distinctive colouring and size.

has returned from a successful mating session. When food and resources get low, drones, who serve the sole purpose of reproduction, are dragged from the hive and blocked from re-entry. Honeybees often divide their tasks by age and experience, with more mature worker bees foraging for nectar and pollen and then passing it through their mouths to younger bees to process and store in the hive. A thriving colony will “run” its queen, slimming her down so she can fly, in preparation for swarming, which splits the colony and ensures survival and health. Not, of course, until it has raised a new queen for the remaining half of the colony.

The list of marvels goes on. Research has taught us that honeybees have excellent eyesight, can smell a predator, communicate the location of food through complex waggle dances, build their habitat from substances they excrete and can detect agitation in humans. A calm beekeeper might stroke their minute hairy bodies without incident.

The colour black also may not irritate bees as much as popular myth would have us believe. The idea emerged, among other things, from trials in which 16 Re:New 2018

The two traits beekeepers most value in Ontario are hygiene and gentleness. black cotton balls trailed through the air on a stick consistently contained more bee stingers than did white cotton balls.

Commentators further hypothesized that people dressed in black clothing reminded the bees of bears attacking their hives. In fact, black objects aggressively waved against a backdrop of blue sky likely just stand out more than white ones. It’s a matter of contrast, Nolan says.

“To say a bee cannot tell the difference between a bear and someone wearing black to me is an insult to the bee,” he adds with a smile.

On the Roof at New College The bees living on the roof of 45 Willcocks Street—currently three colonies of about 40,000 specimens each—arrived in the dead of night one Tuesday in July 2018,

transported as nucleus colonies from Port Hope. Like most honeybees raised in Canada, they were bred not according to genetic lines but by trait. The two traits beekeepers most value in Ontario are hygiene (passed down through the queen’s genes) and gentleness (passed down through the drones). So-called hygienic colonies diligently root out signs of disease in their combs, while gentle ones, as the name suggests, show little aggression around humans.

Once they have survived the winter, NEW’s colonies, Nolan hopes, will grow, help pollinate surrounding gardens and produce some honey that might come into play in New College’s Global Food Equity programming and show up on the menu in the college cafeteria.

Above all, however, he plans to use the roof-top apiary as an educational space, teaching students, faculty, staff, and community members about the wondrous lives of honeybees, the insects’ place in our urban food and ecosystems and the secrets of beekeeping. And what does he suggest people do to help bees?

“Plant pollinator gardens and, if you can, support local farmers.” We’re looking forward to spring already!

Re:New 2018  17

Running Head

Did you know?

A worker bee takes about 10 trips a day to find nectar.

A single bee can visit between 50 and 1,000 flowers per day.

An average worker bee makes only about 0.6 g (that is one-twelfth of a teaspoon) of honey in its lifetime.

It takes visits to 2 million flowers to produce 1 pound of honey.

18  Re:New 2018

Running Head

A queen can live between 3 and 5 years, mating only once in her lifetime (with multiple drones) and laying about 1,500 to 2,000 eggs a day.

One honeybee colony can produce 60 to 100 pounds of honey per year.

In summer, worker bees live for 1 to 2 months; in winter, with less work, they can survive for almost 6 months.

Drones die after mating.

Re:New 2018  19

Scroll, Swipe, Tap: Science Goes Social

Science Goes Social Alumna, stem cell researcher and science communicator Samantha Yammine talks brains, equity and social media.

SCROLL SWIPE TAP

Sam holding cell culture plates, much in the way she does for Instagram, to educate her followers on her work and science in general.

“171 billion!” The little girl, aged maybe seven or so, shouted the number out with confident pride. She knew she had the answer right: the brain, that most complex of organs in the human body, indeed contains 171 billion cells, thousands of different types of them. She had learned this fact from a video on YouTube, recorded by the woman who was now standing in front of her, simultaneously amazed and delighted that her tireless work of disseminating science knowledge via social media was paying off exactly as intended by reaching far-flung, diverse audiences beyond the grasp of the conventional classroom. It was Samantha Yammine’s favourite moment of 2018.

To most of her nearly 33,000 followers, Yammine (New ’12) is simply science.sam, the prolific, capable and big-hearted neuroscientist who for the past two and a half years has shared her stem cell research and all manner of scientific findings multiple times a day through visually compelling posts and stories on Instagram, her preferred platform. We find her preparing cell cultures, peering at lone neurons through a microscope, sharing notes for a radio interview on different kinds of clouds, or, for Valentine’s Day, say, answering the question “What is love?” with a decidedly unromantic statement: “Not to sound heartless, but, neuroscientifically, love can be described as a ‘motivational state’—meaning it activates some primitive parts of our brains that help reinforce goal-oriented behaviour.” So there. Go ahead and break that heart-shaped bowl your partner gave you!

While some of the images Yammine shares on Instagram are truly stunning and the tone of her posts always charms with warmth, humour and a few choice emojis, her account remains focused on evidence-based science knowledge—its production, its distribution, its mobilization and, equally important, the excitement and sense of wonder it can elicit. This focus should come as no surprise from a PhD candidate in the University of Toronto’s Department of Molecular Genetics who researches how stem cells build the brain cell by cell before birth and how those same stem cells can be targeted to activate regeneration after injuries such as a stroke. Most of her colleagues applaud Yammine’s dexterous use of social platforms to provide an inside view of the scientist’s life, but some still find the tenets of science and social media diametrically opposed. While Instagram tends to promote carefully curated fluff, they argue, research in the lab requires rigour and often unappealing repetition. Besides, when studies have highlighted the detrimental effects of too much screen time, how can a scientist encourage, and engage in, even more by posting so frequently?

20 Re:New 2018

Scroll, Swipe, Tap: Science Goes Social

“Neuroscience teaches you compassion, both for others and for yourself.”

PHOTOS: MICHAEL BARKER

— SAMANTHA YAMMINE

Re:New 2018 21

Scroll, Swipe, Tap: Science Goes Social

Twenty-eight-year-old Yammine has no illusions about some of the uglier realities of Twitter and Co. As a woman of her time, she has come into sometimes intimate contact with the flaming wars, the superficiality, the inappropriate and hateful remarks, the group think—and the non-think. Yet she also sees something else. Potential. Immense potential for the democratization of knowledge. “The biggest strength of social media I’ve seen in the two-plus years I’ve been online is the ability to form long-term relations with many people at once,” she says.

More than anything, Instagram serves Yammine as a teaching tool. She joined in 2016 on the recommendation of a friend to share with the widest audience possible her love of science, which has fuelled her since childhood. In an era of truthiness, fake news and health and wellness claims sometimes taken wildly out of context (remember, her area of expertise is stem cells), Yammine wanted to counter with the real deal: the particularities, the questions, the many unknowns. Complexity, to her, is nothing to be frightened of, just a fascinating fact of life—and the task of the expert to translate into simple terms for others.

She also specifically wanted to reach groups and individuals not typically targeted by STEM (science, technology, engineering and mathematics) education.

“We all have the responsibility to democratize knowledge and share with empathy what we know,” she asserts, which is why building relationships of trust is so important. Yammine wants her followers—no matter how old they are, where they live in the world or how sophisticated their understanding of science— to feel comfortable asking anything at all about the field.

The pretty pictures on Instagram help with that, personalizing the experience and making it more relatable. It’s like an open-door policy: Yammine meets her audience where they already are, approachable and ready to talk. “I guess we start with the fun and then get into the science once I’ve hooked you with a nice image of a neuron or my shoes,” she admits, with her signature guttural laugh. What also helps is a deep commitment to equitable access. Yammine understands the influence she holds as an online personality, and the responsibility that comes with it. So she not only uses her platform to openly address thornier issues such as exclusion and discrimination in STEM but also models accessibility standards by closed-captioning her videos, providing detailed descriptions for all her images and using plain language. It’s a work in progress, one for which she relies in part on feedback from her followers. It was one of them, for example, who pointed Yammine toward the need for subtitled video clips.

Careful listening and observation, empathy and compassion, diversity, inclusion and access—these are recurring themes when Samantha Yammine talks hard-core science. Maybe not everyone would make that immediate association, but for her, after years of studying the brain and neuro-variance in great detail, nothing else makes sense: “Neuroscience teaches you compassion, both for others and for yourself.”

22 Re:New 2018

Below: Tinted mice brains under the microscope.

Facing page: The skeletons of star-shaped cells in the brain called astrocytes, visualized here with fluorescent probes, making them purple. Astrocytes are the underdogs of the brain, even though there are billions of them. As far as scientists know now, they are important for buffering brain chemistry and supporting neurons.

We all have the responsibility to democratize knowledge and share with empathy what we know.”

— SAMANTHA YAMMINE

Running Head Scroll, Swipe, Tap: Science Goes Social

Science Sam’s Seven Tips for Spotting Factual Content (especially for the biomedical sciences) 1. Ask how. Whatever claim you hear, ask how we know, how it was tested. If someone is unwilling to tell you how something works, don’t believe them.

2. Ask for details and context.

Who did they test it on—mice?

Humans? Males only? Young college students? How many?

Remember, in science there is no big, sweeping rule. Findings are always very specific and restricted.

3. Learn about reproducibility.

How many studies were done? Is

the one you’re reading about the first one of its kind? If yes, great, but it means nothing (yet). Science doesn’t operate on individual studies, so make sure the claim has been tested broadly, over time, with compatible results.

4. Check the source of the information. Do they have anything to gain? Are they open to questions and explaining? Did they link to the original study?

Did they get a quotation from the researcher directly?

(If the quote comes from another source, the journalist/

writer didn't have direct contact with the researcher, so content may be less accurate.)

5. Double-check. Make sure you follow some experts online and include them in your echo chamber. Ask researchers your questions directly!

Search for scientists using: #research; #scicomm; #scientist; @TheSTEMSquad; @RealScientists (Twitter); #ScientistsWhoSelfie; #thisiswhatascientistlookslike.

6. Improve your health-related Google searches. Add “NIH”

or “NCBI” to your queries, check if information is consistent with that on government websites (www.canada.ca/ en/health-canada.html) and/ or with what the Mayo Clinic (www.mayoclinic.org) says, and use Wikipedia to learn more technical terms that might return more scholarly information in a search.

7. For health and beauty myths—especially bizarre ones—check what Timothy Caulfield and Dr. Jennifer Gunter have to say, before spending money.

Re:New 2018 23

Dwelling in Disability

DWELLING IN DISABILITY Anne McGuire from the Disability Studies stream proffers an expansive view of ability and access.

24 Re:New 2018

PHOTO: MICHAEL BARKER

I

t’s a stretchy category, disability. Even the most cursory look at history will reveal that different societies across time and space have applied the label to a wide range of bodies and minds, defining human variation in many, sometimes opposing ways. Yet precisely that fluidity of definition may be the key to unlocking the opportunities contained within the category of disability. That, at least, is how Anne McGuire and many of her colleagues in the field of disability studies see it.

“Disability studies understands disability as a dynamic relation between a body and/or mind and its physical, cultural and historical environment,” McGuire explains. That is, a physical or mental impairment (we will return to that term later) is seen not so much as an individualized problem but as a cultural phenomenon woven into a complex web of social relations, relations that shape both larger societal understandings and specific embodied experiences of disability. In many ways, this means taking a collective approach to disability, and to accessibility.

McGuire teaches as an assistant professor in the Disabilities Studies stream housed within the Equity Studies program at New College. What began in 2005 as a collection of courses in Equity Studies has since grown and

Dwelling in Disability

We must think about access and accessibility as a collective task.”

— ANNE MCGUIRE

flourished: the stream proudly boasts a longstanding guest speaker series and an annual undergraduate journal called Knots, alongside enjoying great popularity among students. The piercing questions disability studies tends to ask about power, representation and justice fit well into a program like Equity Studies, dedicated to intersectionality (identifying how interlocking systems of dominance play a role in marginalizing groups in society) and interdisciplinarity (examining questions through the lens of different academic fields).

So what of the idea of the collective in disability studies? For one, importantly, disability studies is not the study of disabled people. Countering a long and painful history of pathologizing people living with physical and mental differences—deeming them “crippled,” “unfit” or “crazy” and thus casting them outside the protective bounds of so-called normal society—disability studies as a discipline centres the voices, perspectives and experiences of disabled people. Doing so not only allows us to more thoughtfully examine the impact of anything from health policies to building designs to the everyday use of language but also helps undercut the common deficit-based understanding of disability. “Mainstream culture,” McGuire asserts, frequently sees disability “through the lens of pure personal tragedy”: minds and bodies

are imprisoned and restricted, they lack and suffer. Barely anything more. A more expansive view and more inclusive verbal description of these bodily experiences might better open our eyes to disabled people’s strengths, gains, and contributions, which is why, as hinted earlier, the term impairment has its pitfalls.

Of course, disabilities can and at times do cause pain, frustration, dissatisfaction and even sadness. Disabled people do suffer—sometimes from the health conditions or impairments themselves and sometimes, maybe more often, from the exclusion and discrimination they routinely face because of their difference.

But the point is: suffering is not the whole story. Persons living with disabilities relate to their bodies and minds in multiple ways, not just as entities that supposedly do not function “properly.”

As McGuire reminds us, “The experience of the body as more than one thing is something shared by all people, disabled or not.”

Commonalities go further still. In an interview on CBC Radio’s Tapestry in July 2018, Luke Anderson, the founder of StopGap, an organization that produces and distributes accessibility ramps, introduced his concept of all people as “T.A.B.s”—temporarily able-bodied.

Short-term injuries, age, pregnancy, or even just a load of heavy bags might put any of us in the position of needing or appreciating assistive devices originally designed for disabled people: a kneeling bus, automated doors, a screen reader.

For Anderson, it is not people who have disabilities but the places in which we live, work and play.

While McGuire agrees that any body can become disabled at any time, she hastens to point out that systemic injustices do put racialized groups and Indigenous and poor people at a higher risk of disability. This central question of power also explains the contested position of the medical in disability studies.

Fully acknowledging the indisputable importance of medicine and health care for disabled people, disability studies critiques the facile medicalization of people living with disabilities. Medicalization reduces people to mere carriers of illness or inability; excellent medicine, on the other hand, helps people live and live well.

Because disability studies refutes the idea of disability as an individual

problem, it also encourages us to think about access and accessibility as a collective task, an ongoing practice that we must all contemplate and negotiate. In her classes, McGuire attempts to translate different learning styles into pedagogical opportunities that benefit everyone and broaden perspectives. Elsewhere at NEW, in the D. G. Ivey Library, the librarian Aneta Kwak has spent the past 18 months diligently creating fully accessible online course readers for all courses offered through the college. The best part? They are available to anyone enrolled, irrespective of whether or not they identify as disabled. Some students, for example, simply retain information better when they hear it read aloud, so they make use of the accessible packs and a screen reader to facilitate their own learning.

Thinking of disability as a relation between bodies/minds and their environments, then, makes clear how much disability as a category and an embodied experience has to teach us about the culture in which we live. McGuire even suggests making ourselves so comfortable in and with disability as to consider it a home. Then, she says, we might be able to “treat it as a space in which to incubate and grow more robust justice movements that imagine and indeed build a more inclusive world.”

The time seems ripe for such intellectual probing. In November 2018, a student launched a petition to establish a separate Disabilities Studies program at the University of Toronto that would go beyond the offerings in New College’s Equity Studies stream. It will take time, expert discussions and a rigorous development and approval process to make such a program a reality in the future. In the meantime, McGuire, her colleagues and many students keep pushing at engrained definitions and perceptions, fostering change one small (but significant) step at a time.

Suffering is not the whole story.”

— ANNE MCGUIRE

Re:New 2018 25

Room with a NEW

ROOM WITH A NEW

1

Anne McGuire, an assistant professor who teaches in the Disabilities Studies stream of the Equity Studies program, shows us around her office.

1. Both my research and my teaching examine cultural artefacts and how everyday objects and representations of disability inform and shape (disability) meanings. My office is filled with student art and everyday disability objects, rendering the space a beautiful reflection of U of T’s vibrant disability community.

The posters on the walls showcase more than 10 years of New College’s Disability Studies Speaker Series, which has brought in leading and emerging scholars, activists

26 Re:New 2018

and artists to share their perspectives on the cultural dimensions of disability and to advocate for more open and more equitable modes of living in and with disability.

Karen Elizalde Hernández created a blossom-filled resin skull to represent the beauty, vibrancy and sheer diversity of non-normative minds and ways of thinking, perceiving and feeling. A humorous aside: I granted the artist an extension on the assignment for a very particular reason—the resin, despite drying, had not cured in time for the due date.

This put a whole new spin on our class discussions of the politics of cure!

2. An assignment in my Introduction to Disabilities Studies class asks students to craft, using a medium of their choice, a representation of disability that pushes back against typical and often harmful cultural understandings treating disability as a mere problem in need of solution.

3. Rewired, by Katie Lacqua, outlines the left and right cerebral hemispheres with blue and green electroluminescent wire that traces the curved and coiled folds of the brain’s “grey matter.” The wires connect to a small power source behind the black background canvas, allowing this brain to inter-

2

Room with a NEW

4 3

5

PHOTOS: MICHAEL BARKER

6

actively light up in response to sound. The art piece plays with the notion of spectacle by creating a hypervisible moment of disruption projected from the initial location of epilepsy— the brain.

4. The former student and textile artist Elaine Stewart created A Thousand Threads, a transparent box displaying a wheelchair delicately composed 7

of woven fibres. Not only do threads tie and hold things together, she notes, but they also come into play in labelling: they catch our bodies and minds in a complex web of representational entanglements that are sometimes difficult to escape or fight back.

5. My seminar Disability and the Child requires students to choose a childhood object—

a toy, a piece of clothing, a game—and discuss how it imagines, anticipates or scripts a particular kind of child-user. I also encourage participants to think about how their selected items might be reinterpreted to make room for the bodies and minds of disabled or non-normatively developing children. Some of the toys have made their way into my office, an aspect of my work that my own young kids enjoy very much!

6. I feel privileged to have a job that allows me to surround myself with books. Whenever I go into another professor’s workspace, my gaze automatically darts toward their bookshelf. Students often do the same when they come into my office, which often sparks some really interesting

conversation. My book War on Autism (2016) examines a range of 21st-century autism artefacts produced and circulated in North America and analyzes the ways in which they have shaped Western cultural understandings about autism and autism advocacy.

7. Knots is an annual peerreviewed publication edited

by Equity Studies students that showcases academic and artistic undergraduate work in Disability Studies. As far as we know, it is the first journal in the field with an undergraduate focus, and we are beginning to see ever more submissions from different parts of the world.

Re:New 2018 27

Postcards from Afar

PHOTOS: MICHAEL BARKER

Postcards from Afar

28  Re:New 2018

Postcards from Afar

The world comes together at New College, so we asked you, our alumni, to say a few words about what home means to you.

Here are a few selections. Home is… …where we grew up as small children.

It is the path that leads to our building; the kids with whom we played hide-and-seek in the back garden; the grocery store where we bought milk and half a loaf of bread. It’s the street where we played hopscotch and the kindergarten we all attended. “Home” is the neighbourhood where everyone was family and those friends who still remember not only us, as children, but also our parents, long gone.

Ruth Geva, Jerusalem, Israel, New ’69

…a dynamic thing that can happen when you gather together people you love and respect to celebrate your collective connection. It can therefore happen anytime because you have the power to create it. Most recently I reinvented our New College home with five of my college mates when we did a New College overnight and breakfast after an evening of fun to celebrate the pending (first!) marriage of one of the gang.

Daniel Palumbo, Rochester, NY, New ’80

…my family! Having just welcomed our newest addition, I expect life to be filled with many blurry images of our time together. But no matter where we go, as long as I have my husband and three kids with me, I will always be home.

Kasia Wodzynski, Toronto, ON, New ’06

…safety, comfort and, if you’re lucky, love. Also freedom.

Leonard Willschick, no place given, New ’67

…the darkness I created in my Robinson House dorm rooms by curtaining off my bed in my double room in first year with thick, old electric blankets and by taping tractor-feed computer paper on my windows of my single in second year and painting them black!

Jeff Coatsworth, Toronto, ON, New ’88

…the shelter of my heart.

Wan-Hsin, no place given, New ’15

…a special memory: In June of 2017, I returned to the Kenyan Lewa Wilderness Conservancy, having been there the previous year, to run the fundraising Safaricom Lewa Marathon. Upon arrival by Cessna, my wife and I were greeted with, “Karibu, welcome home!” The emotional impact was profound and resonates intensely more than a year later.

Murray Flock, Coldstream, BC, New ’75

…the place where I can connect with the ground, the people and the sky.

This is when I worked in war-torn areas like Afghanistan, Sri Lanka, Iraq and Sudan, and the only things that mattered were survival, peace, morality and inspiration for all of us.

Jasteena Dhillon, the World, New ’90 …a place that brings who you are together and where you are at peace with yourself. Home is a place where you can fully share with those you care for the most. Above all, home does not need to be a physical place in any city; rather, it can be a state of mind that makes you feel closest to yourself, loved ones and society as a whole.

Rajeev Chib, Hong Kong, New ’94

…where you learn to love, hope, dream and discover.

Bharathy Lingamoorthy, Toronto, ON, New ’08

…my treasure box filled with memories. It holds every experience and lesson that has helped shape who I am today. Home might be far away, but it is the place I think about every day.

Crystal Tran, no place given, New ’16 …where our stories begin. It is a place of hope and dreams.

Aisha Lone, Brampton, ON, New ’17 …a feeling of seeing familiar faces, friends and family, food and language that bring back memories of days bygone.

Ashhab Ahmad, Bangladesh and Canada, New ’17

To view all entries submitted, check online: http://renew.newcollege.utoronto.ca.

Re:New 2018 29

In memoriam: Donald G. Ivey

In memoriam: Donald G. Ivey

New College’s cherished second principal and a former vice-president of the University of Toronto passed away on June 25, 2018.

T

he New College community with While students, faculty and staff at the fondness remembers Dr. Donald University of Toronto today most often G. Ivey, the college’s second prinassociate his name with the New College cipal and a former vice-president of the library, he liked to joke that he was University of Toronto, who, after a long, named after it, rather than the other way active and fulfilling life, passed away on around, and that he believed what his Monday, June 25, 2018, at the age of 96. successors most appreciated about him A consummate teacher, intrepid leader, was his insistence that the Principal’s avid tennis player and witty storyteller, Office have a private washroom.

Don Ivey was a professor of physics from Believing the role of the teacher to be 1949 to 1992 and served as New College’s “the most important job there is,” Ivey left second principal for 11 years (1963–1974), his mark beyond the classroom as well, taking the reins after Frank Wetmore’s most popularly, perhaps, as the original untimely death just four months after host of the televised general-science the creation of New College. Under Ivey’s show The Nature of Things, which is now leadership, the college moved from its guided by David Suzuki. So impressed temporary residence at 65 St. George was one young high school student with Street to two permanent buildings of the physics professor on TV, in fact, that its own (Wetmore and Wilson Halls), many years later, in 2017, as we reported increased its enrolment almost tenfold in last year’s issue of Re:New, he sucand grew into its own as an academic cessfully nominated an asteroid—22415 and socially engaged community.

HumeIvey—to be named in honour of

30 Re:New 2018

Dr. Ivey and his long-time colleague, the late Dr. J. N. Patterson Hume.

Fewer people except those directly involved may recall another facet of Ivey’s engagement with student life.

Insistent that no one should suffer involuntary solitude during the winter holidays, he invited all students who remained in residence during that time to a Boxing Day dinner at his home with his own family—a tradition he maintained throughout his tenure as principal of New College. His three children fondly remember a house bustling with near strangers every season for more than a decade, while the young guests surely felt a particular sense of belonging during a celebratory time of year.

PHOTOS: MICHAEL BARKER

NEW Finds

NEW FINDS

Sometimes we come across items at the college whose stories we find worth sharing with the entire community. This past summer, an anonymous former student dropped off at the porter’s desk at 40 Willcocks

Street this complete single setting of New College dinner ware from the dining hall’s early days. Unable to immediately afford her own dishes after graduation, this alumna took the college’s plates, cup, bowl,

and cutlery with her—only to return the borrowed goods, beautifully maintained, decades later. Thank you for the delightful gesture, nameless NEWtonian; it brought a smile to all our faces.

Re:New 2018 31

A Year in the Life of NEW

A YEAR IN THE LIFE OF NEW

Another busy, inspired year has passed at NEW: We celebrated fresh beginnings and the fruits of long labours. We came together to share, discuss and question ideas. And we made sure to remember that the past, the present and the future are intricately intertwined, deeply dependent on one another. We hope these select photo highlights will bring back fond memories— thank you for helping create them!

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32  Re:New 2018

A Year in the Life of NEW

A. Puncturing Illusions about Health and Well-Being: 2018 Alumni Reunion PHOTO: CONNIE TSANG B. Alumni Lecture Series with John R. Rickford PHOTO: NEW COLLEGE C. Accidental Parkland exhibit, Scotiabank CONTACT Photography Festival @ New College PHOTO: FIRST NATIONS SCHOOL OF TORONTO D. 2018 Spring Convocation PHOTO: CONNIE TSANG E. Deborah Knott Retirement Luncheon PHOTO: NEW COLLEGE F. Dinner@NEW with Ali Rizvi PHOTO: NEW COLLEGE G. Career Mentorship Reception PHOTO: NEW COLLEGE H. New College Plaza Crane Party PHOTO: NEW COLLEGE I. Remembering Donald G. Ivey PHOTO: NEW COLLEGE J. Roosevelt Skerrit PHOTO: ROBERT LAROCQUE K. Installation of Bonnie McElhinny as 12th Principal of New College PHOTO: CONNIE TSANG L. U of T SHAKER Ed wine-tasting event with Christopher Sealy PHOTO: NEW COLLEGE

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For more images of these and other events at New College, check online: http://renew.newcollege.utoronto.ca.

Re:New 2018  33

Giving Back

Giving Back: Our Donors Thank you to the alumni who support our exceptional students and path-breaking programs.

Your donations matter to the entire New College community: they support students through scholarships and bursaries, new and improved living and learning spaces and enhanced academic and community-outreach programs.

New College is deeply grateful to all its donors. $50,000

Glenn H. Carter

$25,000

Susan Marchiori Yves Roberge and Diane Massam

$10,000–$24,999

Robert Bruce Buddhist Education Foundation of Canada

$1,000–$9,999

Veena Daddar Ernst & Young Matching Gifts Program for Higher Education Lok Ho Brad Inwood Doreen Knight Deborah Knott June Larkin Jeffrey Newman Kathleen Mary O’Connell Norm Paterson Lesley Riedstra and Rian Mitra Kenneth Rowan University Lodge 496 Awards Fund Frank K. F. Yeung

$500–$999

Ryan Edson Baxter Natalie Zemon Davis Clifford E. Dresner Guy Aime Hamel Lobo K. Lee New College Student Council

34 Re:New 2018

Carol E. Percy Nicholas Pimlott Keren Rice Elaine She Anonymous (2)

Up to $499

Stephen N. Altbaum David Aronovitch Sharon S. Azim Andrew and Cornelia Baines Sheldon Bell Nadeene Blanchard Glen Boothe Melva G. Bowman Keren Brathwaite Andrew J. Brown Caroline Yoon Hee Brown Clement E. Burrowes Ernest C. But Elsa Maria Cabral Patricia E. Cawley Hoe Kooi Cheah Magdalene Cheung Jane Chong Richard Chow J. Douglas S. Clarke Bernard D. Cooperman Javan Courtney Valerie F. Darling Chandler and Natalie Davis Mary-Lou Dejesus Sarah Ann Denis Michael W. Des Roches Sheldon L. Disenhouse Robert C. Douglas Denise Duhaime Bartosz J. Dworak D. Paul M. Emond

Murray Flock Ronald Ginsberg Zalman Goldgut Ann-Rita Granato-Marciello W. Jason Hanson Nancy L. Hargrave Gregory R. Harrison Manami Hirayama Monica Chung-Yan Ho Deborah B. Hollend Thomas R. Jack Benson J. Kirsh Kaitlin Klaas Kirby M. Kumagai Pauline Leoncio Joyce Leung Robin M. Lloyd Peter J. MacDonald Shannon MacInnes Sinisa Markovic Wendy A. Mason Sandra J. McEwan James M. McKenzie Joan Medina Anthony Minna Colin Morningstar Tinku Sampa Mukherjee Stephen E. Nagler A. Elaine Nielsen Robert M. Nishikawa Liselotte A. Ostergaard Annette M. Otis-Frommer Marlene E. Peltoniemi Michael E. Pezim Morton B. Prager Ceta Ramkhalawansingh Ken E. Rattee Norman C. Reynolds Shirley Roberts

Leslie Ruo Ronald Sanders Klaus H. Schaedlich Anne R. Scott David E. Smith Elliot S. Spiegel Clarence J. Swanton Regine Tabor Lummy K. Teoh Bruce Thomson Thomas Tran Allan N. Tweyman Ulupi Vasavada Kimberley A. Wilson Anne A. Wraggett Roman L. Zastawny Adrian S. Zenwirt Anonymous (32)

Our annual donor listing recognizes the generosity of those who have made new gifts or pledges to New College between January 1 and December 31, 2017.

We have made every effort to ensure all donor names are listed correctly. Please contact us at 416-978-0310 about any errors or omissions, so we can update our records accordingly.

Giving Back

James Wong (centre) with his son, Martin (left), and his wife, Susan Marchiori (right).

Before James Wong (New ’78 & ’87) found his ultimate geographical and intellectual homes in Canada and in the field of philosophy, he started elsewhere. Born in Hong Kong, he moved with his family first to Vancouver at the age of 11, and then to Toronto.

Likewise, he initially studied the sciences in university, but after a master’s degree in chemistry realized his true passion for the in-depth theoretical exploration of ideas. That insight brought him back to New College, from where he went on to earn a PhD in Philosophy from the University of Toronto. We are thrilled and thankful that the bursary in his name, established by his wife, Susan Marchiori, after his death in 2016, will honour both his love of philosophy and his support for newcomers wishing to pursue their dreams. Open to undergraduate students in Philosophy at NEW who have demonstrated financial need, the scholarship will be awarded for the first time in the fall of 2019, with a preference given to students born outside Canada.

The Rea, Robert and Norm Paterson Bursary The witty, erudite and social Norm Paterson, a long-time secondary school teacher and counsellor, originally set up the bursary in 2002 to pay tribute to his beloved parents. His own sudden passing in 2017 rendered the award an endowment, which will benefit New College undergraduate students in perpetuity. Students must be enrolled in a major or specialist arts degree program, show financial need and demonstrate community involvement. We wish to express our gratitude to Paterson for this legacy gift.

PHOTO: MICHAEL BARKER

Dr. James Kam Chiu Wong Memorial Scholarship in Philosophy

Plaza Time Just in time for Spring Convocation 2018, the New College plaza—jointly funded by the New College Student Council (NCSC), New College students and our alumnus Richard Rooney (New ’77)—opened its benches and porticos to conversations, shared laughter and a little bit of quiet reading time outside. Community just the way we like it at NEW!

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NEW Notes

NEW Notes

Honey Sherman (New ’69) and her husband, Barry, long-time supporters of U of T (December 15, 2017)

Do you have any news you’d like to share with us?

A new job, a special honour or a big life change?

Let us know—we love to hear from members of our community! You can send updates to alumni.newcollege@utoronto.ca.

Kevin Lunianga (New ’15) has taken on the opportunity of working with the United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime in Bangkok.

NEW COLLEGE ALUMNI NEWS Vassilia Julia Al Akaila (New ’17) started working as a development coordinator at Pathways to Education Canada, an organization working toward the prevention of poverty through education.

Eman Bachani (New ’15) has founded Meraki Design House, a brand showcasing crafted products from skilled artisans around the world.

Navaz Mistry (New ’05) has joined the St. Michael’s Hospital Foundation team as director of philanthropy.

Paul Nazareth was appointed vice-president of education and development at the Canadian Association of Gift Planners.

Jodi-Ann Beckles (New ’11) graduated from the University of Newcastle with a JD and a graduate diploma in Legal Practice.

Diane Nhieu (New ’15) took on the position of assistant e-business manager at Nestlé.

Albert Chau (New ’13) started working as the national partner manager at Veeam Software, a data-management company.

Dr. Roshan Razik (New ’06) accepted the position of gastroenterologist at the Cleveland Clinic Akron General, a nonprofit health-care organization.

Vanessa Ferlaino (New ’16) took on a new role as a biotechnology analyst for Academic Technology Ventures.

Edil Ga’al (African Studies ’18) has been awarded a prestigious 2019 Rhodes Scholarship.

Yung Wu (New ’82) became the chief executive officer of the MaRS Discovery District in Toronto.

IN MEMORIAM Dr. Donald G. Ivey, the second principal of New College and former vice-president of U of T (June 25, 2018)

Lydia Gill (New ’12) became the University of Toronto’s first student recruitment officer for equity outreach and support.

Silviu Kondan (New ’17) began working for the Office for Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE) High Commissioner on National Minorities (HCNM).

36 Re:New 2018

Dr. Dennis William Magill, a former director of the Department of Sociology undergraduate program (November 25, 2018) Dr. Aadu Pilt (New ’68), a senior scientist in what is now the Office of the Fire Marshal and Emergency Management Ontario (May 6, 2018)

Jay Switzer (New ’79), a well-known Canadian television executive (January 29, 2018).

Dr. Marion Woodman, a renowned Jungian psychologist and long-standing supporter of New College (July 9, 2018)

NEW COLLEGE STAFF UPDATES Dr. Dickson Eyoh (African Studies) received an African Scholars Award.

Deborah Knott retired from her role as long-serving director of the Writing Centre.

Dr. June Larkin (Equity Studies and Women and Gender Studies) received a re-appointment as the college’s viceprincipal.

Dr. Marieme Lo (director, African Studies) was appointed associate director, education, for U of T’s new School of Cities.

Krystyna Mikolas has entered retirement after many years of dedicated service on New College’s maintenance and caretaking team.

Dr. Shahrzad Mojab took on the position of director of the Equity Studies program.

Liz Newbery now heads the New College Writing Centre as its director.

Dr. Alissa Trotz (Caribbean Studies) was inducted as one of 100 Accomplished Black Canadian Women 2018.

The Gift of a Better Tomorrow Jandell-Jamela Nicholson experienced first-hand what it means to seek support—and find rejection and disrespect instead. So she set out to make a change. Her research collects and disseminates the stories of Indigenous and Black survivors of domestic violence, to help create more empowering conditions in women’s shelters. Think of her work as the building blocks of a better tomorrow—building blocks made possible by financial aid. Thank you for laying the groundwork with your gift.

Support New College!

More than half of all students at NEW require some form of financial assistance. We strive to ensure that as many of them as possible receive the best education without having to worry about their finances. Your gift benefits students directly—through scholarships, awards and bursaries.

You can give online at donate.utoronto.ca/new.

If you would like to discuss the specifics of your donation to help young change-makers become transformative leaders and engaged global citizens, contact Alison Liddelll at 416-978-0310 or alison.liddell@utoronto.ca.

Re:New 2018 37

Back by popular demand— Bonnie Stern!

What: New College’s Alumni Reunion event, Dinner@NEW Plus When: Friday, May 31, 2019 Where: New College Who: You, our amazing alumni Join us for a delicious complimentary dinner, listen to our special guest presenter Bonnie Stern and enjoy the opportunity to network with friends old and new.

The event will specifically celebrate graduating classes ending in 4 or 9, but we encourage all alumni to join us.

Please make sure we have your current contact information, and we’ll be in touch with details.

See you soon—we can’t wait! alumni.newcollege@utoronto.ca 416-978-8273