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Art by and for the community: Emerge Festival 2019

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Arts
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Emerge Festival 2019 poster. Courtesy of DTES Small Arts Grants

By: Kelly Chia, Staff Writer

The Emerge Festival is an annual event that showcases the works of Downtown Eastside (DTES) Small Arts Grants Recipients, an award intended to fund people who might not otherwise have the financial means to elevate their creative needs. I went to their gallery exhibition at BC Artscape Sun Wah Centre on Sunday, located right in the heart of Chinatown. As such, I was excited to see Mandarin and Cantonese interpreters at the gallery to translate the artists’ content. The event was also free, making it clear that to anyone and everyone was welcome. This highlights the driving force and core focus of the Emerge Festival and the DTES Small Arts Grants: the community.

Many works were made on canvas, but some grants recipients chose to express their art through different mediums like crochet knitting or photography. The most common feature in the artist statements was how art was helping these artists heal. This highlighted the importance of the grant to these recipients, which clearly not only enabled artists to buy new materials but empowered artists to continue growing. Other artists were focused on provoking conversation about how homelessness is treated in Vancouver.

Rudolf Penner’s pieces on display at the group exhibition in the Sun Wah Centre June 7-9. Image courtesy of Kelly Chia / The Peak

One such artist that drew my attention was Rudolf Penner, who made the pieces, Another View and What the Hell?. In this second piece, Penner commented on how campers “finding daily harassment by local authorities” have to find creative ways to set up ways to sleep. Beside the piece was a notepad where people could leave their comments for Penner, as well as a handout for the Tenting in Vancouver forum, where people can discuss and brainstorm about these ideas.

Les Kinney’s Redemption on display in the Emerge group exhibition at the Sun Wah Centre June 7-9. Image courtesy of Kelly Chia / The Peak

A conceptually similar piece was Les Kinney’s Redemption. This was a sculpture of two individuals on the floor, holding up a television screen that would display the conditions of the Downtown Eastside. Her artist statement reads, “Each day I go to [my] studio and witness the results of poverty and addiction. Having gone through these issues myself, I felt it was time to do a piece that portrays my emotions and experience in this world.” These pieces were particularly moving, as her sculptures create a real sense of struggle and urgency.

The exhibition gave community members and visitors alike the chance to see and appreciate a variety of local artistic talent. It was a space the encouraged both exploration and connection, leaving me with a long list of artists to keep on my radar. The festival happens yearly, but these artists are creating year-round — you can find the full list participants to support and follow at vancouverfoundationsmallarts.ca

It’s time for young people to demand better from their employers

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Opinions
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The job market for millennials and Gen Z sucks and we really have no choice but to participate in it. Illustration by Alice Zhang/The Peak

By: Gurpreet Kambo, SFU Student

Jobs for young people suck, and unions are the answer.

This is the biggest observation I gleaned from a CBC News article listing the 10 kinds of jobs that receive the most applicants, and the 10 jobs that receive the least. The article points out that the jobs with the most applicants are largely retail and restaurant jobs — in other words, low-skill jobs with high levels of turnover. Many employers in these industries rely on the large number of applicants because by emphasizing business interests over quality of life for their staff, they tend to quickly burn through employees.

Beyond this, the precarity and low-quality of work available for young people in 2019 is also laid bare by the experiences of myself and many of my millennial peers.

When I was younger, my job at McDonalds involved having to ask the manager at the end of my shift if there was anything else I could do before I left, to “pitch in for the team.” Inevitably, the task involved cleaning some machine or sorting and taking out the garbage — an often lengthy, disgusting task that would take more than an hour, and which I was expected to do for free. I quit on a whim for some other crappy job, after realizing I’d put in hundreds of hours of free labour. Many other jobs I’ve had, including restaurants and retail stores, have similarly been exploitative, with poor working conditions and bad pay.

Young people, immigrants, and those with little choice but to apply for these low-quality jobs are easier to exploit by their employers, and when they burn out, there’s always another person waiting. This means that these companies have no incentive to treat their employees well. Unless those employees refuse to be exploited — in other words, unless they form a union.

While these issues are more egregious in some industries than others, in general, worker exploitation is inevitable in a late capitalist society. The capitalist mindset of disposable labour (including freelance work and the gig economy) has made it so that big corporations and organizations have little to no incentive to offer workers long-term job security.

While there are few all-encompassing solutions to the overwhelming problems of being a labourer in late capitalism, unionization is the single biggest thing that could address this problem. Unfortunately, unions have fallen out of favour in the private sector, particularly because corporations have gotten good at discouraging them, and right-wing campaigns have demonized them.

However, the truth is that capitalism needs labour. While reforming or remaking capitalism to be more equitable is a whole other discussion entirely, there is great power in the collectivization of labour. In fact, this is the only thing that large corporations will listen to: the labour force they need speaking with one voice, declaring that their labour will not be had without better conditions.

Young labourers need to disincentivize the mindset of labour being disposable. Perhaps then the restaurant and sales associate jobs that now see so few applicants would be sought after because they would be good workplaces that treat their employees well. It’s time for millennials and Gen Z to flex their collectivist muscle to make this happen.

 

Work restrictions on international students make difficult situations worse

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Opinions
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International students pay four times more in tuition, but are only allowed to work 20 hours a week. Photo courtesy of Josefa nDiaz via Unsplash

By: Naaz Sekhon, SFU Student

Canada has always prided itself on being an accepting and diverse nation, home to people of many backgrounds and ethnicities. Especially when it comes to policies: Canada is known to have inclusive laws that work for its people, and not against.

However, work restriction policies are definitely not working for international students. These policies have recently been called into question following the arrest of international student Jobandeep Singh Sandhu. According to Global News, Sandhu was arrested in Ontario for working more than 20 hours off campus — the restriction put on international students with a student visa. His deportation date was set for June 15 despite his graduation being two weeks away.

This policy desperately needs to be amended in order to lessen the burden of the cost of tuition combined with the high cost of living in Canada. International students should be able to legally fund their studies through full-time work, the same as domestic students who are under no working restrictions. Especially when international students contribute $15 billion to the Canadian economy every year, as reported by the Conference Board of Canada. Working more hours should not be considered a crime, as it can be the only option for students like Sandhu.

According to Statistics Canada, the average tuition cost for international students now totals around $27,159, a 6.3% increase from the previous year. This cost is around four times the amount domestic students have to pay, showing how discriminatory this policy is for international students who need to work to fund their education.

Many international students from SFU have similar concerns regarding their tuition and work hour restrictions. Talking to some international students, one voiced his concern about how he feels it is deeply unfair that many of his peers who are domestic students are able to work under no restrictions despite their tuition costs being substantially less. Another stated that the quality of his life would improve if he could work more. Their thoughts reiterate how this work restriction is not working for the betterment of international students, who happen to represent a great number of students in Canada.

International students deal with many barriers when it comes to getting an education abroad and putting a limit on working hours restricts access to this education even more. This policy goes against Canadian values, which have always been to uplift and support. Instead, it puts international students at a clear financial disadvantage.

 

Long story short: Going to the gym means you need to know how to laugh at yourself

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Features
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Image credit Tiffany Chan

By: Jennifer Low, Features Editor

Until last semester, I’d never gone to SFU’s gym regularly . . .  actually, I’d never been to the gym regularly, period. I tried going a few times here and there but never felt that it was for me. I was scared of the giant machines I’d never used before and the people that seemed to intuitively know what they were doing.

Even though SFU’s gym access is free for students, I made up many excuses for why I couldn’t take advantage of it. “I’m too busy,” I would tell myself. “I don’t know what I would do there.”  

Deep down, I knew what the real problem was; I just didn’t want to admit that I was too self-conscious to work out at the gym.

Growing up, I had never been very good at sports or gym class, and I always felt awkward, clumsy and uncoordinated while doing exercise. I found it easier to chase the soccer ball back and forth across the field without ever having any intention of kicking the ball. I was terrified of the embarrassment I would have to endure when I sent the ball sailing in the wrong direction, or even worse, when I missed the kick completely.

My primary gym experiences had been one-off times with friends who were missing their regular gym partners. Sometimes I went just so I could cross it off my bucket list. I’d taken to working out at home on the treadmill. Firstly, because I could fit that around my schedule, and secondly, because then I wouldn’t have to work out surrounded by people who would judge me for my apparent lack of athleticism.

I found that I could run an even 20 minutes without feeling the need to stop or being sore the next day. Once I’d made this discovery, I didn’t bother pushing myself any further. I figured that this was as good as it was going to get for me. I never experienced the pleasure of exercising that my friends and family talked about, only the feeling of relief and satisfaction when I’d finally gotten it out of the way.

In January, I found myself suddenly roped into going to the gym once a week with a friend. At first I was timid. I wouldn’t go until she assured me we’d stay on the top floor and that we’d hang out on the treadmills the whole time. I repeatedly told her how uncoordinated, slow, and awkward I was, to preface what I assumed would be a highly embarrassing experience for me.

Instead, I ended up really enjoying my time at the gym that day and every time after. Soon my friend and I were excitedly getting ready for our gym days by scrolling through Pinterest to find workout routines and making workout playlists.  We texted each other funny gifs of baby giraffes struggling to stand after our leg workouts. Slowly, I worked up the courage to move from just treadmills to ellipticals to StairMasters and eventually the hand weights.

The most important thing I learned, the thing that helped me truly have fun going to the gym, was how to laugh at myself. I recall standing at the mirror, trying to lift a set of light hand weights. After a few repetitions, my arms had reduced to limp noodles and I realized I was lowering my shoulder to the weight rather than bringing the weight to my shoulder. Instead of turning tomato red and glancing around to see who was looking, I caught my friend’s eye in the mirror as she stifled a giggle and suddenly we were both laughing — and likely disturbing everyone in sight.

I became accustomed to the fact that going to the gym meant that I would 100% be laughing until my sides ached. Whether it was because of a weirdly named workout routine, tumbling over during an exercise because I’d never had to move that way before, or just learning how to use a StairMaster, my friend and I found everything hilarious.  

I was so worried that others were going to laugh at me for my clumsiness that I didn’t realize that I needed to learn to laugh at it. Once I’d done that, I wasn’t so worried anymore. So what if someone else thought I was uncoordinated? I already knew that and I was going to the gym to work on it.

On my last workout day of the Spring semester, I saw a girl at the gym. She wasn’t dressed in the gym regulars’ uniform of lululemon pants and an athletic top. She was dressed like me: oversized T-shirt, probably borrowed from the pyjama drawer, and baggy yoga pants that went out of style years ago. She repeatedly apologized to everyone around her about her lack of gym expertise and overly expressed how glad she was that her more experienced gym friend was with her to teach her the ropes.

Seeing her, I was reminded of how I had felt the first time I started going to the gym. Stretching on the mat next to her, I noticed her watching curiously as I struggled to simultaneously raise my legs and my arms in sync. As my limbs waved awkwardly in the air, I found myself laughing at my own mistake.

“I only pretend I know what I’m doing,” I told her. She laughed, mentioning that she herself was always super confused at the gym. “At least we’re here,” I told her, “that’s half of the workout!”

Even though we never spoke again after that moment, there was a sense of respect between us. There was an understanding that though neither of us were comfortable with exercising, we were comfortable enough with ourselves to try.  

Being Asian: SFU Students reflect post-Asian Heritage Month

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Peak Web
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Image courtesy of Republica from Pixabay

By: Kitty Cheung (Staff Writer), Kelly Chia (Staff Writer), Karina Danielle Lim de León,  Winona Young (Head Staff Writer)

When I was five, my birthday wish was to get a Yoga Barbie. When I was six, my birthday wish was a Spongebob Squarepants backpack. When I was eight, my birthday wish was to become white.

One thing I struggled with a very long time (and still do) is internalized racism. And on my eighth birthday, although I didn’t know those words specifically, I understood that blonde hair, blue eyes, and a button nose meant beautiful. However, black hair, a potato-round nose, and yellow skin decidedly did not.

The thing about me is that I grew up watching North American television religiously. It’s actually how I learned a lot of my English. I loved shows like Rugrats and Jimmy Neutron. I noticed the characters I was most drawn to were the blonde-haired, blue-eyed, and porcelain-skinned white girls. In those shows, I understood that white people, especially white girls, were the beauty standard.

It makes sense that through ages eight to 18, whenever I was around my white-girl friends, I always felt an undercurrent of inferiority.

Don’t get me wrong, I loved my white friends. Many of them, in fact, became the popular and desirable white girl. They wore Abercrombie & Fitch, had pin-straight hair, and told stories about how gross boys were when they made out. I, however, stuck out with unruly hair, an extra forty pounds, and apparent invisibility to guys. Whenever we played pretend, they were always Hermoine or Cinderella, while I was Cho Chang or Mulan.

(I wasn’t even Chinese. I’m Filipino, but I don’t think they even knew the difference.)

For a while, these girls were my most cherished friends, but they never understood my sadness. A vague, tangled-up sadness which was so complex and confusing that I barely knew how to articulate it.

Once, when I was 18, I explained my eighth birthday wish to a friend group, and my white friend knitted his brows in confusion. “But why? You’re gorgeous as you are!” But what he didn’t notice was how, when I said that, another Asian friend of mine solemnly nodded and said, “I feel that.”

I’ve learned to let go from that sadness, and that shame that came with being not-white. By far, what helped me get to this place of acceptance were fellow Asians, who, like me, also mourned their yellow skin, but learned to love living in it.

– Winona

 

I’m so grateful for my Asian heritage because of the rich history and culture embedded in my ethnic background.

I’m grateful for being Filipino and take pride in the beautiful nature and wildlife which characterize my home country. I also celebrate the spirit of being Filipino — the festive gatherings, colourful fiestas, extravagant dishes, and the loving sense of community shared by families and friends.

The values and traditions I was raised with were heavily influenced by other Asian cultures — Chinese, Malay, etc. I’m grateful for the importance of family and loyalty in Asian culture, shown to me by my immediate and extended family’s unconditional support and love.

I’m grateful to have a story to tell — my name doesn’t sound “Asian” to most people (what they mean is East Asian, really), so explaining why my last name is Spanish, my middle name is Chinese, and my first name is Russian gives me a sense of pride from sharing the rich history of what it means to be Filipino.

I celebrate my Asian heritage every day by being proudly and unapologetically Asian. I don’t hesitate to share where I am from, despite many Asian countries being corrupt and underdeveloped. I encourage my friends to try new “exotic” cuisines from Asia with me. I don’t try to hide my features that make me Filipino, and I warmly speak to other Filipinos in public in Tagalog.

A challenge I face being Asian, as a first-generation immigrant to Canada and an international student, is losing touch with my culture. I speak English with an American accent, so my Filipino doesn’t sound fluent anymore. I feel distant from a part of me that is so integral to my being. I always miss the smell of saltwater, the burning sun, the local food. I miss hearing my language being spoken around me.

Here in Canada, I feel closest to my heritage when I am surrounded by friends who are welcoming and loving. But truly, I feel closest to my heritage when I am in my home country, surrounded by locals and the bustle of the city. I feel closest when I have gone days without speaking English in a country where I don’t feel foreign — I feel at home.

– Karina

 

I am grateful to be Asian, I admit, because of the delicious food.

I was born in Sabah, Malaysia, and grew up in Singapore, which meant I had a lot of good food everywhere. I think this is because a lot of my childhood memories are family gatherings at a local hawker centre, where we’d chow down on hokkien mee or Hainanese chicken rice. I definitely associate food with spending time with my loved ones. I think that was the most validating part about watching Crazy Rich Asians for me: the characters bonding by making dumplings together or eating at a hawker centre. I also feel closest to my family when we are seated at huge tables, picking away at dishes on a Lazy Susan.

I definitely experience some crisis with my identity as a Chinese person. I have some deep insecurities about not being Chinese enough, some of which range from wondering if I will be able to teach my future children Hakka dialect to not being able to have complicated conversations with my parents in Hakka. I also speak Mandarin Chinese poorly, which contributes to my fears about not fitting in as a Chinese person. Largely, I am troubled how much of my heritage I don’t know well, which is an inherent part of who I am.

On August 8, Singapore’s national day, there is typically a celebratory pop song released to commemorate the occasion. Now that I no longer live there, these songs are what remind me of home. In particular, Kit Chan’s song “Home” strikes a chord with me. The lyrics go: “I will always recall the city / Know every street and shore / Sail down the river which brings us life / Winding through my Singapore.” This song always makes me feel proud of the country I spent part of my childhood in. When I listen to this song, it reminds me of the fond times I have had and how much I miss Singapore.

– Kelly

 

I spent part of my childhood growing up in Vancouver’s Chinatown.

On grocery trips with my family, I remember begging my mom to buy cartons of Vitasoy from our local supermarkets, gaping wide-eyed at barbecued ducks hanging from butcher shop windows, and having my mouth water at the delectable fruit cakes displayed inside bakeries. The culture was rich and vibrant in our Strathcona neighbourhood; I am so grateful and fiercely proud to have been a part of that.

We moved away when I was eight. It was the first time I felt that my Cantonese heritage made me a minority.

As a result, I feel especially tenderhearted whenever I get to witness the noisy camaraderie of Vancouver’s Chinese diaspora. Whether that be in the form of overhearing gossip slyly spoken in Cantonese during hair salon visits with my mom, observing groups of elderly men come together for Sunday brunch at The Boss (a local diner), or joining crowds of families murmuring in excitement during the annual Chinese New Year parade as lion and dragon dancers bolt through the streets. These fond memories make me grateful for my Cantonese heritage.

Connecting to others who also speak this common language makes me feel closer to the culture. Despite how broken my spoken Cantonese may be, it still makes me happy to be able to speak this dialect whenever I purchase pineapple buns at Hong Kong-style bakeries.

However, some challenges that I face stem from the cultural gap and language barrier between my mom and myself. Neither of us speaks both Cantonese and English completely fluently, so our communication is often stilted and messy. We’ve also grown up in different countries during different eras, and this cultural distance has definitely created rifts between us. Nevertheless, throughout my childhood, we could always bond over dim sum on a Pro-D Day.

– Kitty

Spotlight: Peak Frequency

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Arts
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Colten Boushie documentary brings heart and hope

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Arts
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Image from documentary of Colten's mother, Debbie Baptiste, and cousin, Jade Tootoosis, at the United Nations calling for justice. Image courtesy of Hubbard via CBC.

By: Kelly Chia, Staff Writer

In 2018, 56-year-old settler Gerald Stanley was acquitted of second-degree murder charges in the death of 22-year-old Cree man Colten Boushie. Immediately following the verdict, there were public outcries and protests across the country about the unjust ruling. It was another terrible example of how the Canadian justice system is still heavily infected by the colonial racism it was founded on. Boushie’s family spent the next year fighting for justice for their loved one.

This month, the Vancity theatre screened Cree filmmaker Tasha Hubbard’s new documentary nîpawistamâsowin: We Will Stand Up which looks at the aftermath and history of the case. The film follows the family over the last year to make a documentary about the case, its aftermath, and what this means for Indigenous peoples and the country.

In the film, Hubbard explores relationships between Indigenous and non-Indigenous communities through documentary footage, animated sequences, and personal testimonies. She uses animation to picture and explain the history of Canada’s relationship with Indigenous people, contextualizing these issues for viewers who may be uninformed. She also expresses her own concerns about raising her son by including conversations and scenes of the two of them reading old letters and talking about family.

Hubbard mixes calm, beautiful shots of the Prairies with animated sequences to create an authentic and intimate watching experience.  The soft music and scenes of the Boushie family standing together keep the film down to earth and hopeful.

The horror of Colten’s death is also never dramatized in the film. Instead, his death is treated with grace as footage of the family and community celebrating his life on his birthday is included multiple times in the film. Having the filmmaker additionally appear and connect with the Boushie family in a sympathetic way was very unique way of experiencing the case as opposed to following it online through news outlets.

To properly convey the gravity of this story, Hubbard includes harrowing accounts of how unfairly the case was treated from the time Colten died. One particularly difficult story was Debbie Baptiste, Colten’s mother, describing the way she was treated upon hearing the news of her son’s death. She recalls how RCMP officers surrounded her house, searching her home as she grieved for her son, telling her to get her grip, and trying to smell her breath. Obviously distressed over the news of her son, Colten’s mother was confused as to why the officer was being so physical with her.

This incident highlights one of many instances where Indigenous people are still framed by stereotypes. Throughout the film, Hubbard shows racist, hateful comments from Facebook groups, which defend Stanley’s actions as self-defence and attack Boushie. These instances clearly illustrate how disrespectfully, and offensively, Colten’s death has been publicly perceived and treated.

At the end of the film, Hubbard is seen connect with her son as they talk about these histories with her adopted family and her birth father. When her grandfather asks what options someone in Stanley’s position had, her son gives a firm answer: not shooting Colten. It is a succinct ending, and a perfect response to illustrate the ridiculousness of the idea that Stanley was acting in self-defence. Although an incredibly dark topic, the film still offers kindness and hope that the more people see this, the more they can empathize, organize, and resist against injustices like this.

The Vancity Theatre has added an extended date for nîpawistamâsowin: We Will Stand Up. You can see the film June 13 at 6:30 p.m. and tickets, $11 for students, can be purchased online or at the door.

The 2019 Congress of the Humanities and Social Sciences wraps up in Vancouver

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Peak Web
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Courtesy of Dr. Maite Taboada

By Paul Choptuik, Coordinating News Editor

The 2019 Congress of the Humanities and Social Sciences has wrapped up in Vancouver. Running from June 1–7, Congress was hosted by the University of British Columbia (UBC).

Organized by the Federation for the Humanities and Social Sciences, Congress was comprised of over 70 scholarly associations including the Canadian Sociological Association (CSA) and the Canadian Historical Association (CHA). It is the largest academic gathering in Canada, with over 5,000 papers being presented according to the event’s media kit.

It is hosted by a different Canadian university every year, with Congress 2020 set to be held at Western University in London, Ontario. The last time Congress was held in Vancouver was in 2008, also at UBC.

The theme for Congress this year was “Circles of Conversation.” Specifically it “aims to foster and encourage circles of conversation among scholars, educators, students, political leaders, activists, and the public at large, so that people can speak with one another, listen and learn together.”

Members of the public could get a complimentary Community Member Pass, which enabled them to attend a section of the programming. This included the lectures in the Big Thinking series, with keynote speakers like environmentalist David Suzuki and author Esi Edugyan, the latter of whom’s talk can be viewed online.

A number of academics from SFU were present as attendees, presenters, or both. SFU academics presented papers on areas that included but were not limited to: Indigenous matters and reconciliation, business and economics, Canadian politics, identity, diversity, equity, and religion.

Dr. Maite Taboada, a professor in the department of linguistics, gave three different presentations. One presentation, presented with colleagues Rada Trnavac, a former member of the Discourse Processing Lab at SFU, and Cliff Goddard, a professor at Griffith University, dealt with a “quirky little construction in English” that they are calling the “adverb-ly adjective” construction.

“Think of ‘extremely interesting’ or ‘terribly boring.’ It turns out, it’s a very productive structure, with thousands and thousands of examples in corpora we have studied. It seems very frequent in book and movie reviews, and there are lots of creative examples like “howlingly funny” or “breathtakingly incompetetent.’”

Speaking to The Peak, she described Congress as “like Coachella, but for academics and perhaps with a more geeky dress code.

“It’s wonderful, because you are often presenting to a small audience of peers interested in your topic of research, but there is something very special when you are in a setting where hundreds of people are doing the same thing in parallel . . . ”

Another SFU academic present was Dr. Stewart Prest, a lecturer for the department of political science. Prest had two papers at Congress, one of which (co-authored by Ian Bushfield) dealt with Vancouver’s municipal election and how it was affected by the housing crisis.

Responding to The Peak via email, Prest wrote, “In brief, we argue that the housing crisis in the city triggered a period of change – a sort of political evolutionary event. The existing strategies didn’t seem to be working, so parties started to experiment with different kinds of responses, and some entirely new parties emerged as well.”

When asked what his favorite aspect of Congress was, Prest noted that he loved reconnecting with colleagues. Even after not seeing some for years, they are able to carry on from where they left off.

Welcome to the Antique Textbook Show!

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Peak Web
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Photo curtesy of Pixabay

Written by: Ahmed Ali, Peak Associate

Welcome to 14th annual SFU Antique Textbook Show!

Every year, students gather to show off ancient, overpriced education supplies no longer usable in the classroom. These wonderful artifacts of the past have endured much, and they help us understand the mentality of students who studied only a few semesters before us.

 

-1 – iClicker ($32) from 2015

 

An incredible artifact to find! This iClicker is already an unfathomable four years old and unusable in most lecture halls today! Truly a marvel of 2015 AD Engineering, its current state clearly represents the hubris of the students of the ancient pre-2016 world. Its battery cover is missing and there is a mustard stain for the student who, forensics have confirmed, was lazily eating during lecture. We know from archaeological Facebook post dives that it’s likely this iClicker was bequeathed to a friend to take to lecture when the registered student did not feel like attending. Thankfully, this plastic device will never biodegrade, so we have years to learn all its secrets.

 

-2-  Calculus: Derivative of Expense ($153) from 2012

 

What a marvelous wonder! Though calculus itself hasn’t changed much in the last 300 years, this textbook is already 17 editions out of date. This old hardcover was pulled from the excavation site of a CMNS hallway, and this rare item even contains hieroglyphic doodles and drawings from students past. When you find yourself thinking back to these doodles as you write your third calc midterm of the semester, you may have to replicate these doodles on your answer sheet, gambling on the chance that they are, in fact, the answers you need.

 

-3- Genetics: Inheritance of Debt ($212) from 1996

 

A treasure from an era gone by, a different millenium. Scholars have alluded to this text existing during the time of the dinosaurs, formation of constellations, and possibly before SFU was even in construction, although there is debate among the academic community, as no one is quite sure when SFU first went in construction.

 

Despite being so out of date in its field, this textbook contains all of the useful genetics info a 90s kid would learn. Get ready to learn stuff from genes to Mendel and more, except when you realize that only, like, 10% max of the stuff in the textbook is on the level of your classes. (Helpfully, this means the book is in good condition, at least). Knowledge is timeless.

 

-4- Commerce: Deception of Business ($950) from 2016

 

This is the most recent item of sale we have. You can see its modernity in that it is literally just an expired access code for a textbook. The way it extorts money from you is only the first lesson of the cutthroat world of business, so it’s already preparing you for the real world.

 

Out On Campus has temporarily moved to MBC Undergrounds due to construction noise

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Peak Web
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Onosholema Ogoigbe/ The Peak

By Onosholema Ogoigbe, News Team Member

Due to construction around the Rotunda, Out on Campus (OOC) has moved to the SFSS Undergrounds.

In an interview with The Peak, OOC coordinator Ashley Brooks explained that the construction “makes the [original] space very difficult to work in.” Brooks says that the move allows OOC to set up “a kind of pop-up shop.”

“[It’s] a way to continue offering our services throughout our campus, just away from our usual space,” he elaborated. “It’s a lot quieter here, so it means that we can get our work done much easier and students are much more likely to come and spend time here than go to the noisy lounge.”

Located beside the Forum Chambers and under The Study, the Undergrounds currently houses both the OOC coordinator Ashley Brooks and admin assistant Noah Jensen along with a computer and a selection of pamphlets and resources from the OOC lounge.  The move took place on June 3.

Brooks affirms that the choice to move was not pushed upon OOC, saying that the option was offered by the SFSS after they filed complaints about the noise becoming unmanageable.

“This was sort of a temporary solution that was proposed that would help us to still connect with students who are being turned away because of the noise.”

Brooks also clarifies that the OOC lounge is not completely deserted. Due to convocation approaching, he believes that construction will stop work at least for next week.

“We will probably go back to the space for [the week of convocation], but while it’s noisy, this is just a temporary option for us [ . . . ] It’s definitely a preferable option . . . it’s by no means ideal, but it’s better than the current situation.”

Despite OOC’s presence, Brooks stated that as a open and bookable space for undergraduate students, the Undergrounds is “still bookable for student events and other things.”

“This is a generally good space to be working in, and there’s space enough for students to sit and still engage with us.”

Brooks states that despite the lack of certain key resources like the OOC library, “[students] do still have the option of going over to OOC when the construction noise is much quieter. It’s a temporary solution that isn’t ideal, but still meets many of [their] needs.”

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Simon Fraser University’s independent student newspaper since 1965.

For advertising inquiries: [email protected]
For promotional inquiries: [email protected]

© The Peak Publications Society