The Opportunity That Changed Everything

Almost 15 years ago, Jennifer Sylvester was a single mother working in social services when she was accepted into U of T’s Transitional Year Programme – a bridge to university for students who left school early. Now, Sylvester, who is of Anishinaabe descent, is pursuing a PhD and teaching U of T students who, as she describes below, remind her of her younger self.

In my first week as a student in the Transitional Year Programme, back in 2012, there was an introductory meeting for the incoming students. In the Q&A, one of the students raised her hand. “Will there be a lot of downtime,” she asked, “to do social things?” Sitting up near the front was Prof. Keren Braithwaite, one of the program’s founders. And I still remember her reaction: a kind of motherly turn of the head. She said to that student: “No, you need to be focusing on your studies. This is an opportunity you’ve been given. You should be reading every day. You should be writing every day.”

The earnestness in her eyes! I remember thinking, OK, Jennifer, you’d better take this seriously. And I did! In the evenings, I read my then five-year-old son my assigned readings as bedtime stories. They pretty reliably put him to sleep.

And now: plot twist. I’m an instructor in the program. I’m the teaching assistant for the Introduction to Indigenous Studies course – and I teach the seminar that’s sort of a support class for the main course. At the same time, I’m a PhD candidate at OISE [the Ontario Institute for Studies in Education], studying leadership in higher education, with a focus on supporting Indigenous students.

I look out at my students, and I see myself – even though I was a little older than most of them when I started. They’ve converged from all these different paths. They might have been in the workforce for years, like I was. Or they were marginalized kids who were pushed out of the school system. It’s especially hard for Indigenous students. There are always barriers – economic barriers, personal barriers, family loss. There’s just a lot that goes on that pulls you away from succeeding.

That was my story, too. My guidance counsellor and my teachers told me I should think about clerical work instead of university. In my last year of high school, I was grieving the death of someone close to me, and I failed. Even though I later graduated, the system isn’t forgiving if you don’t have the marks.

At the time I got accepted into the Transitional Year Programme, I was working in social services – frontline work. I was doing well at it, but I couldn’t advance. When I applied for a new position they said, ‘You’d be great at this job, but we need someone with a degree.’ And I didn’t have one.

I enjoyed helping people, but the job was taking a toll. And then my mother passed away. I was dealing with grief and my own health issues – high blood pressure, depression and anxiety. That was when I saw an email from my sister about the Transitional Year Programme: ‘Take a look at this.’ I could still hear my mom’s voice saying, ‘You should go back to school, Jennifer.’

I printed the application, got on the subway, and handed it in myself. Those two hours changed my life. Riding the streetcar past the U of T campus, seeing the students with their jackets and backpacks, I thought: ‘I want to be one of those.’ And suddenly I was.

Now, I tell my students on the first day: “I’m an open book. I’ve been in your position. I sat where you’re sitting. Don’t be afraid to say, ‘I don’t know’ or ‘I need to ask you something personal.’ I’m available to you.”

I share a lot of my lived experience. I’m the daughter of a Sixties Scoop survivor – my dad. I lost my brother to suicide. I tell my students, ‘You can touch my hand and you’re that close to a lot of the things we’re talking about in this course.’

This is my third year of teaching, so I think I’ve found my footing. There was one student from a remote northern community. She’d fly in and then fly back home. I tried to make her feel comfortable on campus, and reassure her that she didn’t need to be afraid of any of it. At the end of the year, she said, ‘You made it so much easier for me.’ My response was, ‘Give yourself credit. You kept showing up.’

That’s almost the most important thing I tell students: Show up. I’ll hear a student say, ‘I won’t be making the second class because it’s all the way across campus.’ I say, ‘It’s important for you to be there. It’s important because it’s in those class discussions that the best stuff happens. You hear what other people have to say, you’re playing off their ideas, and the professor’s ideas. You’re creating something together. Also, you’re going to be marked on class participation, so you might as well get used to it.’

I try to strike a balance between making them feel safe and preparing them for the world beyond the program. When they’re doing their undergrad, they won’t always get an extension on an assignment. Which leads to maybe the second most important piece of advice: build relationships with your professors. Once they know you, they’ll have a better idea of where you’re coming from. I notice a lot of students won’t do this. I don’t know if it’s a post-pandemic thing; they just don’t want to be a bother. But I tell them, ‘People want to help you.’

When someone’s opening a door for you, you go through. You charge through. And then you turn around and hold that door open for others.”

I don’t ask my students what they plan to do next. I just make sure they get the message: ‘You’re in a good position to succeed. Even if you don’t go all the way up the ladder in Indigenous studies, you can now be an active ally. There are lots of ways to use what you’ve learned here. You can do that in academia or in banking or nursing or medicine. There are so many ways of being an ally.’

I remember one student who didn’t want to tell her family or friends that she was in the Transitional Year Programme. I didn’t understand why she felt ashamed to get a helping hand. When someone’s opening a door for you, you go through. You charge through. And then you turn around and hold that door open for others. This program is exactly what Prof. Braithwaite said it was: it’s an incredible opportunity.

That’s another message I take pains to share: People who take a bridging program are not lesser than. I actually find them greater than. Because somebody has already told them no – probably over and over. And now their attitude is, ‘Just watch me.’

I still have the U of T sweater I bought my first week on campus. I wore it today. It reminds me how far I’ve come.

As told to Bruce Grierson.

Opening Doors Since 1970

• U of T’s Transitional Year Programme (TYP) is a full-time, eight-month program for adults who don’t have the formal qualifications for university admission.
• Established in 1970 to support Black and Indigenous communities, TYP now welcomes all students facing barriers to higher education.
• Since its founding, the program has helped more than 2,500 people access university.
• Applicants complete a writing assignment and interview as part of the admission process.
• TYP accepts about 60 students annually. In 2024-25, 55 students were enrolled and 21 TYP alumni graduated from U of T degree programs.
• Tuition is $7,000, but most students receive financial support. In 2024-25, more than $400,000 in aid was awarded to TYP students.