Feeling Like An Imposter in a New School Environment: A Personal Essay

“Raise your hand if you have read the Iliad.” 

As each hand shoots into the air, I quietly ponder what an Iliad is. 

That is when the panic ensues. 

Am I stupid for not knowing what this is? How does everyone know but me? Was this on the syllabus? Am I already behind?

I sink into my chair, drowning in my own paranoia. With every title and author the professor quickly rattles off, I sink further and further feeling inferior to my peers around me. 

Every single time I hear another student make a clever remark, I beat myself up for it. A mere observation about a 1,000-word short story has turned into my personal destruction. 

Why didn’t I think of that? Why can’t I be on the receiving end of the professor’s praise?

As I scan the room, I see people who are fully engaged with their pen and paper in hand, eager to take notes. On the other spectrum, I see students who are staring off into the distance, probably imagining their lives outside of the classroom’s rigid walls. 

Between all of these people, I hope there is at least one person who feels the same way as me. One would be enough. 

The next time the professor asks if we know whatever piece of literature, I raise my hand. I do so with caution. I don’t want the professor to confuse my enthusiasm with a willingness to share my thoughts with the class. But I’m not too slow where the question is no longer in play. 

As my hand hangs in the air, guilt washes over me because, in full truth, I am completely lost. I have no clue as to what the professor is talking about, and no matter how many seconds I leave my hand up, I will never know. 

But I keep my hand up anyway. Because in those little moments of self-worth, it feels better to be a liar than to feel like an imposter. 

Imposter syndrome can embody the doubt in one’s skills and successes. It can creep in when you feel like you’re not as talented or worthy as others believe, and you’re scared that one day, people will realize that. 

Over the past few weeks, my experience with imposter syndrome has taken a toll on my mental health and self-esteem. I find myself constantly questioning if I’m worthy of my spot in the classroom. 

Do I really belong here? Is like a song that plays in the soundtrack of my mind every time I learn something new. 

My mom always reminds me that “Every new thing you learn is an opportunity for growth.” This “positive community Facebook post” mantra is ingrained in my belief system. And although I believe it to be true, when everyone around you already knows the new piece of knowledge you just learned, it doesn’t feel like learning at all — it feels like shame. 

Why didn’t I learn about this sooner? Why did I waste my time watching TikTok videos for pure entertainment?

I could’ve used that time to memorize the entire Merriam-Webster dictionary so I could sound as sophisticated as the guy sitting next to me.

So I could nod along with the crowd as opposed to frantically doing a quick web search on the topic of discussion. So when a new concept is introduced, I could feel like myself and not like a complete stranger walking into foreign territory. 

The anxiety that already came with making new friends, a rigorous workload, and the exhausting commute back home has proven to be a tough feat. But with this on top of it, “pushing through” seems unpromising. 

There is no concrete playbook on how to cure imposter syndrome. Like everything else in life, you just deal with it as each new problem arises. 

But when does the anxiety ever stop? 

It’s in troubled times like these that I find solace in my grade 12 self. I was at an all-time high — knowing the ins and outs of my high school, having secure friendships, and finally getting into my dream post-secondary program.

The prospect of moving onto something new thrilled me. I was under the impression that this excitement would stay forever. 

But now here I am, wondering how I went from triumphantly throwing my graduation cap into the air with the people I love the most to feeling like this. 

I failed my past self. 

However, it’s one thing to feel like a failure alone than with other people. When you’re with other people, every self-deprecating joke forms an unspoken bond. And when you string them together, they form a sense of community. An odd community, but a community nonetheless. 

By talking to some people in my program, I discovered there are people in this city who feel the same way. These people come face to face with imposter syndrome on a daily basis, too.

I try not to bask in another person’s state of distress, but for some reason, knowing this isn’t an individual experience gives me a level of comfort that’s hard to explain.

But most importantly, I’m not a total outcast. Isn’t that what we all long for? We all hope and pray that we are not alone. 

With this in mind, the faculty at Toronto Metropolitan University (TMU) have underlined the importance of protecting your mental health. By providing multiple resources and medical practitioners through the Centre for Student Development and Counselling (CDSC), there are many people to connect with. 

No one has to go through this alone. 

Similarly, TMU’s Student Care Office works with the Toronto Metropolitan community to identify students in distress, address disruptive student behaviour and help students who are dealing with challenging personal, academic or financial issues. 

Even the big blue “You Belong Here” banner on Gould Street is a reminder to all students that you can pave the way for yourself at TMU. Although there are times when I may doubt that statement, the conversations and moments I share with others have proven otherwise. I think I do belong here. 

To my future self and all the readers who don’t know where they stand right now, I hope you can look back on this and confidently change the “think” to “know.” 

I know I belong here.

• anxiety
• freshman
• health
• imposter syndrome
• mental health
• school
• university
• wellness