Is this controversial? I don’t know. Maybe. This isn’t a vegan bashing post. Just an opinion from observation.
There’s been a global rise in the amount of plant based eaters in recent years. And by plant based eaters, I mean vegans – those who do not eat or use anything with animal products.
That’s all well and good. Some go vegan because of allergies to food groups. Some go vegan to improve their health. Some go vegan because they want to.
If you are vegan. Good for you. Yay. Don’t expect me to throw you a party though.
What has also accompanied this rise is the need to proclaim your dietary status. And this is where the problem starts.
Our lifestyle choices aren’t things to be announced to the whole world unless they severely impact us. Being a vegan isn’t a gift from god, nor is it life threatening that everyone in your vicinity must know about it. I’m fine for people having diets and lifestyles that don’t incorporate animal products. But don’t preach to me. Please don’t preach to me.
I’m a vegetarian. I don’t eat any sort of meat because I’m intolerant. However, I do consume a large amount of dairy in the form of yoghurt because milk and cheese don’t suit me as much, and I’ve begun to consume eggs for protein after growing out of a childhood intolerance to egg white. And honestly speaking, I love my dairy. I love having an omelette for brekkie twice a week if I’m bothered. And I would never be able to survive without dairy because I wouldn’t be able to indulge in the goodness of gulab jamun otherwise. And that would be tragic. In consideration of animal welfare, the eggs that my family purchases are organic, free range eggs as well. The company we buy from has been certified that their chickens are kept well and happy.
What really pisses me off however, is when vegans come to me and lifestyle bash me. They tell me off for consuming dairy and eggs because it’s unethical blah blah blah. You all are entitled to your own opinion, but please don’t police my lifestyle. My diet is the best for my health, and I don’t need you to tell me off. What’s worse is when they either police everyone’s food choices at a place to eat (only vegan dining places allowed) or they make people who eat meat feel bad for doing so.
Stop trying to be the bloody food police. You telling me that it’s unethical to eat honey isn’t going to make me stop and immediately cut out all honey from my diet. What it’s going to do is severely piss me off and then just to spite you, I will buy a 1 litre pot of honey and eat it right in front of you.
Your opinion is your own. Don’t try to change me or my lifestyle. That’s my decision. Not yours.
Next we have the issue of vegans becoming animal rights sirens. It’s like as soon as someone becomes a vegan, they forget that they once consumed a bacon and egg sandwich and now feel the need to broadcast simply horrific videos of animal slaughter ALL OVER SOCIAL MEDIA to prove how angelic and pure they are because they’re vegan.
We all know animal cruelty exists. It isn’t a recent occurrence. So you posting and clogging my timeline with horrific images and videos won’t do much except for make me throw up, and then block and unfriend you. Animal cruelty isn’t recent, and until 1 year ago, you weren’t frigging vegan. Where was your concern for animals when you were shoving bacon into your mouth like a dehydrated animal? Where was your concern when you bought a 20 pack of nuggets from Maccas cos the deal was so good? It clearly wasn’t there. So now, when you’re vegan, all of a sudden your eyes have opened to the cruelty. What a fking joke. Get a grip on yourself.
Don’t become a preacher and expect all your friends to change when you post these ghastly images because you doing that isn’t going to stop animal cruelty. The fact that you only became aware of cruelty when you became vegan speaks volumes about the shallowness of your argument.
And on this note, there’s a campaign that needs to be stopped.
The dairy industry in Australia is suffering at the hands of Coles and Woolworths. Farmers are suffering and their plight is heart wrenching. What isn’t ok is for vegans to come out with a ludicrous campaign to get rid of our dairy industry and send our farmers to hell. That isn’t even the bloody issue here. The issue at hand is that Coles and Woolworths in their dominance over the industry are underpaying dairy farmers, who are drowning in debt and don’t have enough to feed their families. Stop with your frigging animal cruelty preaches and look at the issue at hand! Yes animal cruelty exists but it isn’t the same issue. Boycotting our farmers won’t do anything to stop cruelty. It’ll crush our economy and ruin Australia. Get a grip on yourselves.
I respect your care for animals but preaching to me by clogging my timeline with horrifying images, sending grotesque images and trying to convert people to a lifestyle won’t do you any good.
Can you just calm the hell down?
It’s our personal choice to choose a lifestyle that suits us. No one has the right to force anyone into a lifestyle, and therefore, it isn’t cool for you to hate and preach all the frigging time. I respect your decision and your passion to stop animal cruelty but there is a limit. Shares on facebook won’t stop cruelty let’s be real.
And let me reiterate. This isn’t a vegan bashing post even though it sounds a lot like it. This is just a little bit of pent up frustration in an opinion. Our lifestyles are our own choices. No one can convert us. Preaching does nothing and please for the love of God, calm the hell down.
I’ll respect you and your lifestyle if it doesn’t impede on my choices and my lifestyle.
Monday, May 23rd, 2016. 12:07 pm. I’ll officially be 18. Legal to vote, buy and consume alcohol, sign for myself, own a credit card and live on my own without parental permission in Australia.
To be honest, that terrifies me.
I’m a child in a teenager’s body, who isn’t ready to face “adulthood”. And while my peers, teachers and others refer to me as mature, I’m far from it. Adulthood seems so terrifying honestly.
But on my last day of being 17, I wanted to reflect on everything being 17 has taught me.
17 was a rollercoaster. Exciting yes, but terrifying nonetheless. I think I learnt the most about myself this year. I made so many discoveries (advanced English would be so proud right now) about myself, my personality, my strengths and my weaknesses. I think 17 was definitely a year of growth, both positive and negative, and I have so much to take away from it. Both in terms of what I can use to my advantage, and what I need to work on throughout the next years of my life.
So here are 17 things I learnt at 17:
- I am a strong, independent young woman who doesn’t need anyone to tell her that:
I value the power of my voice. My sassy attitude. My belief in trust. My faithfulness and dedication to the people I love and trust, my work and my life. And it’s the best thing I’ve learnt about myself.
- Experience as much as you can.
This is important to me. I think over the course of 17, I found out a lot about myself. My love for photography. The fact that I can cook well, my passion for politics, social issues and economics, my adoration for high-end make up. All of this was fostered by me getting myself out there and trying new things.
- If you don’t challenge yourself, are you living to your full potential?
I’ve always loved a good challenge. I never enjoyed easy work. And over being 17, I realised how important this was to me. I think this ties in with my need to have determination and drive in everything I do. Challenge fosters creativity as well.
- Failure doesn’t exist unless you make it exist:
I’ve always been an overachiever, and highly conscious of my performance in academics and other activities I’ve been involved in. my self-consciousness doesn’t do wonders for helping this either. And throughout 2015 in particular, in the midst of HSC, I went through a tough time accepting that I wouldn’t always see the marks I wanted to see. And this lesson only came to me very recently, when I was talking with a friend. And now, looking back on my HSC year, I realised that I imposed the thought of failure on myself when in reality, I was doing pretty damn well.
- Anxiety is a bitch
Having mild anxiety isn’t fun. And it got worse throughout 2015. And now, as stress only increases and there are more things I have to worry about and think about, I need to learn to find ways to control my anxiety to a manageable level so I’m not breaking down and I’m becoming stronger in dealing with situations that aren’t ideal or favourable for me.
- Self love doesn’t come to you in a day
This sounds so typically teenage like, but when you’ve never truly been able to accept that you are this bomb young Australian with an Indian heritage, the sass and intelligence to match and the will power to move mountains like you know you are, it’s a little tough. I’ve struggled with positive self-image for a while. There are a myriad of factors that contributed to all of this. But with the experiences I had over the course of being 17 and even before that to be honest, I’ve finally accepted that it isn’t healthy for me to be so unhappy with myself. No one’s perfect, and I think that I’m finally on a path of coming to accept that my flaws aren’t something I will be able to get rid of, so I’ve got to look ahead and make myself the best person I can be, with the canvas I’ve been given to work with.
- You aren’t your ATAR
This one struck home the day after my ATAR came out. On the day I received my ATAR, I was at work, and fighting back tears because a person I was once friends with, decided to message me after so long without communication to ask my marks, and then gloat about their acceptance in their course, an hour after ATAR results were released. And in that moment, having not received that 99.95 was painful for the overachiever in me. But the day after, knowing that I had a guaranteed place in the course I wanted to get into, I realised that an ATAR was a drop in the ocean that is life. I made it to where I want to be, and now? no one gives a flying fuck over what I got. And if someone asks, I sass them, telling them it’s none of their business because if I’m in the same course as them, then I got a similar mark to them. ATARs are important for 1 second. And then they’re irrelavent.
- It’s ok to cry
This might be the Gemini in me, but I hate showing my true emotions. Due to certain circumstances in my life, I always have a mask up for the people around me. But I learnt that the mask falls off when I’m with the people I love and trust the most, and when I’m around them, it’s ok to not be the strong person I will myself to be in front of others. Learning that it’s ok for people to see you ugly crying, and learning that there is no point in hiding things like fear, heartbreak, anxiety and stress from the ones who I love and trust has changed me a lot. It’s made me value my strength a lot more, because the ability of being able to show your weakest emotions actually shows how strong you are.
- Embracing yourself is the most important thing you can do.
I’m learning to love who I am. Sassy, passionate and unapologetic. Embracing myself, from my curly hair to my scarred ankles (the endurance of many, many sports injuries) to the impassioned way my brain works is what makes my world exciting. I wouldn’t swap that for anything.
- After a bad day, a good day will always come about
This ties in with a few things. I think the acceptance that something not going in my favour doesn’t taint everything else has really opened my eyes to the bigger picture.
- The only validation I need is my own
Taking to heart what my teachers said to me about my performance in a subject I thought I was good at (“if you work really hard, you might get a low band 5”) did jackshit for me. Why? Because I ended up aceing the subject. By throwing those words out the window, and using that taunt as motivation to prove them wrong, I realised that I didn’t need anything but my own validation and belief in myself. And even now, I don’t need anyone’s opinion, but my own. I’m my own person, and I’m the only one who can judge my performance.
- Experiences, whether good or bad, make you a better person
This has hit home recently. I’ve experienced a few bouts of bullying. I’ve been racially victimised and make fun of for my skin colour, the hair on my skin and my culture more times than I can count. But all of these experiences I’ve realised, have toughened me up. Yes, I have bad days where all the negativity floods me. But I’ve come to realise that I am a lot stronger from all these negative experiences. And while the pain of these experiences will never leave, and I’ll always have a negative reaction to them, it’s made me so much more grateful for the things I have, the strong young woman I know I am, and the people around me, who love and support me. And it’s also shown me how to fight back by being the bigger person in the situation. And I’m eternally grateful for that. I will probably never truly bounce back from the racial victimisation or the bullying that has brought me down and worsened my self-image and anxiety. But these challenges have made me see how much stronger and persevering I am and I love that about myself.
- Tell people how you feel because time doesn’t stop.
This is in relation to guys. To love. To emotions that shouldn’t be bottled up. I wish I had realised this a little earlier. Maybe I could have prevented some things from happening last year. I could have prevented all the tears and outbursts because of my personal humiliation at my “less then satisfactory” performance. Things would have been different.
- Your prince charming is out there
Heartbreak isn’t fun. Crying in public and trying to play it off as allergies around your friends is bullshit because your friends will always know what’s up. Heartbreak doesn’t heal in a day and even though shit happened in 2015, I still have days where I look over photos, music and the playlists we created for each other, our conversations, and playback memories. It burns like a fire inside me, and there will be nights where I scroll through midnight conversations in tears, and ask why everything went to shit when it was so good. And it does hurt, knowing that one of the first guys who wasn’t like a brother to me used me and betrayed my trust and faith when I broke my walls down around him. But the guy who will sweep me off my feet (my hopelessly romantic side is speaking) is there somewhere. Love isn’t forced. It shouldn’t be forced. And the heartbreak was in hindsight a saviour, because maybe I would have ended up a lot worse if I had started something with someone who I have no trust, care and faith in anymore.
I will find that guy who makes me feel like I’m being spun around on a rollercoaster. I will find that tall, black-haired, hazel eyed man who makes me feel all sorts of ways. Who isn’t afraid to pull me into an impromptu dance while we cook, or come with me on new food and travel adventures. I will find that guy who balances sensitivity, intelligence (both academic and emotional) honesty, trust, bluntness and humour. It’ll happen. But I can’t force it cos life doesn’t work life that.
- Never be ashamed of what you love. You don’t have to defend your passions
I remember getting weird looks when people (especially guys) found out that I enjoy R&B music and I thoroughly enjoy rugby union. The All Blacks are my pride and joy. I don’t have to let anyone validate my interests. If you can’t handle the fact that I am a young woman who is just as passionate about her Men in Black on the field, as she is about that dream customised Bugatti Chiron, Zayn’s voice and Justin Timberlake’s artistic genius, and of course the bloody long list of celeb crushes and all that NARS makeup waiting to be owned, then you can leave/
- No is a full sentence.
If anyone has any questions about this fact, feel free to meet my fist (the one with the rings adorning it) and my foot.
- Finding yourself isn’t a one day process
I’ve discovered a lot about myself – both things that I love, and things that I need improving in. but this isn’t the final list. Life opens up so many experiences. It throws so many curve balls at us. I’m pretty sure I’ll be learning even more about myself with every subsequent year that passes by.
Being 17 was one of the most challenging and rewarding years of my life. It’s been a wild run, and I’m so keen for 18. I do have a list of things I want to accomplish while I’m 18, but that’s another blog post for another time (: There are so many things that have risen to the surface for me to work on and improve myself on, and honestly speaking, being 17 has been such a great journey of self expression. I’ve begun to find myself, find my passions and see my goals being acheived and my dreams coming true. It’s a whirlwind feeling and I wouldn’t give it up for anything.
Cheers 17, that was a fun ride. 18, I’m KEEN AF for you.
– ugh gross feelings yuck – I’m sorry.
Why do the most toxic people try to screw up our lives time and time again?
I’m trying to get over you (it’s taking a while) and when I think I’m there – the point of giving absolutely no craps about you, your friends, your lifestyle or anything; you smash back into my life.
And no it isn’t easy flushing out someone who’s been there for basically your whole entire life.
Why can’t you just leave me the hell alone? Let me move on in peace. Because we had nothing good. That friendship was so toxic, and I was just blind to your charm evidently.
At the height of my internal state of feeling pathetic, don’t try and come into my life again. We won’t have anything. We never will. And as much as you try, I will never go back to the old times.
You’re a stranger to me. Why don’t we make that official. Because after knowing you my whole life, I still don’t know the first thing about you. I thought I did, but I was wrong.
It’s been a rough couple of days (weeks). There’s a lot on my mind, and it’s culminated with me essentially losing my mind over why people who are white (if we’re going to use layman’s terms) don’t understand their own privilege.
This is a controversial post. If you don’t like it, or are going to get butthurt over the truth, please don’t read. And don’t inform me about it either. Please don’t pull that reverse racism bullshit on me. Racism as a definition is an act where a dominant culture systematically oppresses the minority culture. This post doesn’t state that people with caucasian skin are exempt from the experiences listed below. But it doesn’t mean that the prevalence of these issues to other races/cultures/communities isn’t justified.
Let’s clarify something.
White privilege is an immunity badge that people of Europid ancestry wear, so they can be exempt from the daily misfortunes and occurrences faced by people of colour.
So what does a white privilege immunity badge entail?
- White privilege means you’ll have a good relationship with the authorities. Random selection doesn’t exist for you does it? But for me? “Random” selection at the train station every time I travel. “Random” selection on my trains so guards can check my passes. “Random selection”at domestic and international airports so they can scan me further, take me to a screening zone and full body frisk me, and scan my carry-on baggage for potential bomb threats. Because yes, having olive toned skin immediately makes me a terrorist. My Australian passport, citizenship and drivers license will never be enough proof.
- White privilege means you’ll never have the burden of being labelled a terrorist or being pointed out as a terrorism sympathiser. But me? I will. As a young Australian girl with Indian heritage, there have been numerous occasions where I was asked whether I was an al-Qaeda sympathiser, a relation to a bomber or a support of ISIL. My most recent encounter was on a train back home after university. I was minding my own business (checking out my biases and dying over how precious Conrad Ricamora is) when a white man asked if I was an ISIL sympathiser. He took one look at me, to come up with the ridiculous conclusion that because I have olive skin, black hair and hazel eyes, I must be a terrorist sympathiser. When I kindly responded with “No sir, but are you a KKK sympathiser?”, I was told to “fuck off back to my third world hell”. Lovely.
- White privilege means you won’t have to ever deal with the burden of stereotypes that have been engrained into our society. But me? Because of popular television and a general insensitivity to understanding culture, I’ll always jokingly be asked whether my parents have found me a husband yet, or whether my dad is the proud owner of a 7-11 or that horrified reaction when people see how open and controlled I am around alcohol because apparently Indian parents are drill sergeants in their houses and alcohol is so taboo, that when Indian teens go to house parties and uni parties, they go wild.
- White privilege means you’ll never feel ashamed of having a heritage that’s different to your nationality. But me? There have been so many occasions when I’ve hated my olive skin with a burning passion, wanting nothing more than to get surgery and try and whiten myself. The feeling of being uncomfortable in your skin because you aren’t Aussie enough because of your hair colour and skin tone is horrifying. Being bullied over the fact that you have hair on your skin is something no one should experience. Being mocked over your cultural dress and traditions or the food you eat should be someone no one should experience. Wanting nothing more than to alter your appearance so you’ll fit into society is the most heart wrenching feeling I’ve ever experienced.
- White privilege means no one will make assumptions of your intelligence/profession based on race. But me? I’ve developed a shell where I laugh off the comments about the fact that I’m not an engineering or med student. I’ve learnt to deal with the snide remarks about my decision to drop sciences and pursue humanities instead. I’ve learnt to drown out the bullshit about whether my parents are ok with me not doing medicine. I’ve learnt to not give a shit about the giggles and laughter that emerge when I ask questions in class, because apparently as someone with an Indian heritage, I’m meant to be a genius.
- White privilege means you’ll never be discriminated in a professional setting because of your name, skin colour, religion or food preference. I’ve never experienced this, but I know many who have. And hearing stories about young men and women, mainly from Sri Lanka, India and the Middle East who were pressured into changing their names to a more white name so they can get a job breaks my heart over and over again.
- White privilege means you’ll never understand the feeling of being told you can’t hang out with someone because they aren’t white. True story. Imagine yourself in primary/elementary school where a group of girls tell you that you can’t play hide and seek with them because you’re not the same as them and their mothers said they can’t play with you since you aren’t white. How does that make you feel?
- White privilege means you’ll never be casted as a representative of your entire race. This is self explanatory.
- White privilege means you’ll never know the feeling of not feeling accepted in your skin because it’s too dark
- White privilege means you’ll never understand the true horror, shame and irritation of having your culture appropriated, when society blatantly shuns P.O.C. for wearing their heritage with pride. But me? I’m not the most Indian kid out there. But I adore my heritage. I love the fact that I can step away from who I am everyday and immerse myself in the colour, beauty and tradition of our festivals. But it’s a point of irritation when I’m made fun of for wearing a kurti in public as I stop by a florist to pick up flowers for the celebration I’m attending. It angers me when people make ridiculous comments about how henna looks like my hands are cut open, or when I speak Hindi, I sound animalistic. What also isn’t ok is for white people to make fun of our cultures and traditions when we partake in them, and then parade little facets of them at music festivals because it’s chic and boho. There is nothing Boho about wearing a bindi. There is nothing boho about getting henna done. There is nothing boho about wearing our bangles and anklets. And there is especially nothing hipster about getting Om tattooed on your body.And while we’re on this last point, let me once again point out the idiocy of fashion brands globally, when they think it’s cool to pick out random hindi words so their jewellery titles look hipster and edgy:As the tweet says, the name of the jewellery translates to Elephant (haati) tea (chai) leaf (patha). What sort of bullshit is this?
- White privilege also means you’ll never see the injustice of not having the right person cast for a role in a movie or production. And by this, I mean all the times books with P.O.C. that were transformed into movies were cast with white actors and actresses.
This post isn’t a guilt trip scenario to make white people feel guilty about having the skin colour that they do. It isn’t a white people bashing post. It isn’t meant to make you feel like every P.O.C. is putting the blame on you. I’m not trying to shit on your community or pinpoint that every white person is so ungrateful and horrible. Because they’re not. And I know that every culture, race and religion has good people and bad people if we’re going to keep it simple here.
All I am trying to say is that there needs to be an awareness and an acceptance that such things do exist, and that maybe, that’s the first step to cultural inclusiveness in society. Because there is nothing worse than not feeling at home in the country you were born in, brought up in and have grown to love, cherish and wear it’s nationality with pride.
Open your eyes and see the reality maybe.
*RANT POST AHEAD* I’m sitting here with a glass of Pinot Noir, my muscles are dead from an intense workout and I’m so pumped on adrenaline because a stressful 2 weeks lies ahead. But I’m so mad right now.
I should be used to teaching myself. I taught myself the advanced and extension one courses for HSC english because my teachers just didn’t cut it. I learnt how to analyse like a boss through a shit ton of effort. I know what it takes to succeed when you don’t have the most valuable members of an educational institution on your side.
I also understand that university life is so different to school. Firstly, there are a lot more people. The size of one course I’m enrolled in is double the population of NSG alone. Uni is all about gaining the skills that’ll apparently help you in your future working life (not that I believe that right now). University makes you manage your assessments, your exams, your workload, your attendance on your own. I get all of that, and frankly, I’m fine with it. I never considered myself needing to be spoonfed like they occasionally do in school.
However, that being said, there’s a huge bloody distinction between spoonfeeding a student and helping them to understand the content or a part of an assessment better.
I’m enrolled in potentially the shittiest course UNSW offers alongside any business degree. It’s a bloody nightmare. And there’s a few reasons for that:
- They expect us to read a 900 page textbook that tells us absolutely nothing about anything
- They’re creating theory that no one gives a crap about getting into depth about in an attempt to keep a course running
- There is no theory to how organisations run. It’s all frigging practical.
- The content is boring AF
- THE STAFF ARE LITERALLY THE MOST UNHELPFUL, RUDE AND HORRIFIC PEOPLE I’VE EVER HAD TO BE AROUND
I could deal with factors 1-4 because I know how it is to have to handle content where there is no theoretical value whatsoever. I mean, I tried to find metaphors in a non fiction book. That’s saying a lot.
BUT, in an educational institution, I thought the teaching staff – our lecturers, advisors and tutors, would be more helpful. Not sympathetic, motherly or caring like many of our highschool teachers are. Just helpful.
There seems to be a trend with the MGMT1001 staff at UNSW, where everyone permanently has a needle stuck up their asses and are walking and talking like they’re all the queens of England. Pompous, rude, unhelpful and frankly, a disgrace to the name of teaching at one of Australia’s best universities. (no I don’t mean the queen of England is all those colourful adjectives. It’s just an expression of speech.)
ALSO FOR GODS SAKE THERE IS A REASON I PAY 5K A SEMESTER. IT’S SO I CAN GET AN EDUCATION AND A DEGREE AND WORK AS AN ECONOMIC CONSULTANT. I DON’T PAY 1.25K FOR YOUR COURSE TO NOT HAVE ACCESS TO THE COURSE LECTURE SLIDES. IF I CAN’T ATTEND THE LECTURE BECAUSE OF REASONS, THE ASSUMPTION IS THAT I’LL BE ABLE TO FOLLOW ALONG FROM THE CORRECT LECTURE SLIDES UPLOADED. BUT HOLY SHIT IF YOU UPLOAD SLIDES WITH A FRIGGING HEADING AND NOTHING ELSE, WHAT GOOD WILL IT DO? WILL IT HELP ME LEARN THE PRINCIPLES OF MANAGEMENT? I DON’T BLOODY THINK SO. HOW THE HELL ARE YOU TEACHING MANAGEMENT IF YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW HOW TO MANAGE 1600 STUDENTS WHO JUST WANT TO LEARN AND PASS THIS SHITHOLE COURSE? IT’S THE ASSUMPTION THAT ONCE I PAY FOR SOMETHING, I HAVE ACCESS TO IT UNTIL MY TIME WITH THE THING RUNS OUT. IF I DON’T EVEN HAVE ACCESS TO LECTURE SLIDES AND YOU DON’T FKN RECORD YOUR LECTURES, HOW AM I EXPECTED TO LEARN? YOU SAY TO BECOME PROACTIVE, CRITICALLY THINKING INDIVIDUALS, BUT I’M SORRY, WITHHOLDING INFORMATION DOESN’T MAKE ME ANYTHING BUT MAD AND PISSED OFF OK.
FAR FREAKING OUT GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER AND GET OFF YOUR HIGH HORSES. THE MANAGEMENT STAFF PARADE THEMSELVES AROUND OUR LECTURE HALLS AND LECTURE ROOMS TALKING ABOUT ALL THEIR MANAGEMENT ACCOLADES AND WONDROUS ACHIEVEMENTS IN THE FIELD OF MANAGEMENT. THAT SCREAMS A WHOLE LOT OF BULLSHIT TO ME BECAUSE THEY DON’T EVEN KNOW HOW TO MENTOR A GROUP OF PRIMARILY FIRST YEAR STUDENTS. LEARN YOUR OWN CONTENT FOR FKS SAKE MGMT1001. GOOD MANAGERS MENTOR THEIR EMPLOYEES. I DON’T SEE YOU MENTORING US. I DON’T SEE YOU LEADING US. I DON’T SEE YOU HELPING US DEVELOPING OUR SKILLS. YOU KNOW WHAT I SEE YOU DOING? MAKING ME MAD AND HATE THIS GODFORSAKEN COURSE WITH EACH PASSING MINUTE.
When you ask lecturers, teaching staff and tutors a question about work or assessments that isn’t in any way indicating that they’re telling you the answer, the general assumption is that you’ll get an answer that will benefit you. It happens in all my other courses. I can easily ask my accounting tutor or lecturer a question about non-current assets or subsidiary ledgers and I’ll get a response. I asked a few questions for clarification before our midsem exam. I got clear and concise responses every time.
BUT WITH MANAGEMENT? OH GOD FORBID IF YOU ASK A QUESTION THAT INDICATES YOU’RE INTERESTED IN ACTUALLY PASSING THE COURSE. GOD FORBID IF YOU ASK A QUESTION THAT CLARIFIES WHAT IS EXPECTED OF YOU.
The amount of times I’ve been slapped in the face with a brick when I asked a question that’s relevant and pertains to our course and assessment is unreal. And it’s gotten to the point where I’m mad AF over the sheer rudeness I’m being displayed. You can be unhelpful. Just don’t be a bitch about it. I know about teachers being unhelpful. But I don’t need attitude, sarcasm and outright bitchiness along with that.
Whenever you ask a question to the staff, there are a few classic responses:
- Check the course outline
- This was answered in a presentation
- this has been answered in the forum before. Maybe you should learn to use the search function
- Ask your tutor
- In the workplace, your manager might not help you figure these things out when given a task so maybe you should figure it out yourself.
Oh I’m so sorry I didn’t realise that as a 17 year old first year student, I was some sort of Einstein. And to answer the 5th statement, I work a business environment. As an accounts clerk, I’m given new projects, tasks and things to do that may be unfamiliar to me. And not once has my manager turned me away and told me to figure it out. Instead, I’ve always been given the support, either by her or my coworkers as they help me figure out any issues so the work is done correctly and efficiently. If my manager had told me to go figure out how to create and manipulate pivot tables in excel by myself, I would be nowhere in life. So no, your managers help you when there are issues because it’s for the greater good.
Moreover, the course outline isn’t a Bible. It’s called an outline for a reason. It indicates goals, assessments, procedures and vital information about the course. But it isn’t the only resource we have. Moreover, in our first lesson, my tutor explicitly told our tute class that she wouldn’t answer any questions about the work we’re doing. Well fking done to everyone in this course. I hope you’re all happy.
AND THEN WHEN ASSESSMENTS ARE HANDED BACK OH MY GOD. Every student gets frigigng wrecked because we haven’t correctly done sections of assessments. When in fact, if our simple queries had been answered, maybe the average for our assessments wouldn’t be so abysmal.
To be in an educational situation like this is horrific. I’m just trying to get through this semester, but I’m being told that I can’t even ask relevant questions that’ll aid me in actually getting somewhere?
Well done MGMT1001. I hope everyone is really fking proud of themselves.
There’s a distinction between spoonfeeding and helping students out. Maybe it’s time to learn about that before you all embark on teaching and harping on about how you’re all so successful.
Thank you for making my life hell. I’m now going to read the frikking course outline and try magically understand what it is I need to do for this assessment. Time to bullshit my way through this assessment and pray it’s what my tutor wants. Oh and did I mention, she marks like a sergeant? Harsh and unforgiving with minimal explanation. Well done.
When the best thing about the abysmal 2016 federal budget (not sure what’s happening there) is Leigh Sales grilling and roasting Treasurer Scott Morrison on 7:30.
This is the fate of Auspol. And it’s a recurring motif with our budgets now. Leigh Sales has to be my favourite Australian journalist. She orchestrated the biggest roasting of Joe Hockey last year. Our economics class had a viewing party and were investigated by the principal because our howls of laughter were reverberating through the first floor of D Block. Apparently we were having too much fun
View the roasting here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RdCC1g2GfPQ
Leigh Sales is so wonderful to watch. Especially when she’s roasting the liberals on national television. It’s gotten to the point where Prime Minister Turnbull feels offended by her apparent aggression, claiming that it becomes an opinion when she’s so cut throat and has told her to tone it down to a more “respectable and docile” level of journalism. Because his mansplaining clearly had no impact on Leigh Sales, who continued in her slay all day way to roast him. Don’t you love when politicians feel the need to attack good journalists who
BUT THAT BEING SAID, if watching Leigh Sales do her post budget interview with the treasurer is my favourite part of budget night, that must indicate how shockingly tragic the budget is. In particular, I love how there are going to be further cuts to health and education (two prime industries in an economy and nation) because why not. University fees will continue to be deregulated, and the abolishment of HECS, while left unaddressed, doesn’t indicate that it still isn’t a pawn on the political chess board. With further cuts to funding for higher and tertiary education, universities will be allowed to set their own fee packages. Degrees that already cost a lot more then they should will just increase, causing more issues for students because the means to pay will become more difficult unless everyone gets a well paying job (which mind you, rarely happens while you’re in uni) and they don’t feel like their purchasing power has decreased. And if you’re an international student, you may as well give your bank account to the university because by the end of your degree, you’ll have a huge debt.
While I could easily write a 5k analysis of the federal budget for 2016, let’s leave it here. Anxiety at 8am due to Auspol never did anything good for anyone.
Yay for more tragedy.