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Letters to the Editor, Opinion

Letter to the Editor: In loving memory of student press

For years, The Link has unremittingly stressed that we have a problem. For 45 years, our necessary work in holding Concordia’s administration and student unions accountable depends on extractive work conditions and the burnout of our editors and contributors. Our staff are required to work upwards of 25 hours per week with little to no compensation. This has resulted in our masthead population consisting solely of those economically privileged and those willing to wear themselves thin by juggling numerous financial and academic responsibilities.

In the last volume, we launched the contributor freelance fund and started paying our editors a fairer wage—but both are temporary pilot projects. The project acknowledges a masthead position at The Link for what it is: A part-time job, a full-time commitment. Editors and contributors from diverse backgrounds could work and pay their bills. This pilot project has continued into Vol. 45, but will die without external funding. 

Our financial support is 23 years out of date. The funding inherited per semester from the undergraduate student body reflects the consumer price index of 2001, with our fee-levy currently at $0.19 CAD per credit per student—not including those who opt-out. Funding appropriate for costs relevant two decades ago is not enough to pay our staff and contributors for their work.

We attempted to run for a fee-levy increase four times. In the face of austerity and a precarious political climate, we’ve been denied despite stressing what is at stake.

Hear us when we say we need your help

The denial of an increase suggests an assumption that The Link has enough funding to function. This is the type of thinking that leads to our demise and nurtures a breeding ground for under-compensated labour. The notion that freelancing should remain “volunteer work” is additionally harmful and a blatant disregard for the fruitful labour writers do.

In Yasmin Nair’s 2015 Vox article entitled   “I’m a freelance writer. I refuse to work for free,” she argues for the importance of proper compensation for independent journalists. 

“The publishing industry gets away with conditions that would be considered grounds for litigation in most other workplaces,” Nair writes. “Writing is considered a mere hobby, and awful pay, combined with issues like non-payment, is rampant in the publishing industry [….] What possesses anyone who even halfheartedly claims to be a writer to willfully sabotage their fellow writers’ careers? What does it mean when even leftist writers, writers who aggressively advocate against the exploitation of workers elsewhere, nonetheless become scabs in the publishing world?” 

The Link wants to be a place that uplifts writers and multimedia creators and shows them they are talented enough to carve out a career for themselves. 

The disaster of Vol. 43—felt individually by freelancers daily and student journalists nationwide—is a prime example of the environment perpetuated by underpaying your contributors and your staff. Vol. 43 saw seven editor resignations, partly due to unsustainable working conditions. 

We cannot revert to this exploitative model wherein each masthead member who resigned departed expressing the sentiment, “I am not paid enough for this.” In this perpetuation of a work culture where only the most privileged could participate, The Link became a white-dominated space in which racism, ignorance and insensitivity against Black, Indigenous and people of colour writers and editors festered.  

All current masthead members were asked if they could do their jobs with little to no compensation. The resounding answer is a decisive no.

The Link was extractive to its staff and writers for 43 years until the publication as a whole reached its wit’s end. Our freelance fund, we found, is in part a remedy to the problem, yet without external funding, the fund will remain a pilot project pending expiration. The freelance fund is single-handedly keeping The Link afloat by ensuring we never revert to being an exploitative newspaper.

 The Link acknowledges that a freelance fund such as ours is rare amongst student newsrooms nationwide. Student publications often must treat their staff and contributors as volunteers, where occasionally, a select few receive a negligible stipend for their hard work. This is not the fault of student papers; rather, the institutional framework of universities is to blame. Freelance work is not a donation. Freelance work should not be volunteered; it’s a craft, it’s a talent, and it’s a job.

As a student-led community newspaper that caters to the broader Montreal community, The Link benefits and serves McGill students—and in fact, some of our contributors attend McGill. We are calling on McGill students to equally consider our fight for a fairer industry. The Link might not be dead, but without external funding and support from our community, it will cease to be an ethical workplace that produces ethical, advocacy-centred content—so it might as well be.

This is not an aggrandizing statement; it is a cry for help.

The Link has added a donation box to our website to help keep us alive. All profits will ensure our continuity and pay our staff and contributors

Soccer, Sports

Professional soccer players’ schedules are an increasingly heavy load

The Union of European Football Associations (UEFA)’s Nations League Matchday five of six kicked off Nov. 14, short a slew of several big-name players from the English Premier League (EPL) like Martin Ødegaard, Ollie Watkins, and Cole Palmer. This has led to questions regarding teams’ lineups, their match-ups with various contenders, and even the existence of the competition itself. Eight players withdrew from England’s Nations League squad. In a similar timeframe, eight players made the same decision to leave Ghana’s squad during their preparation for the African Cup of Nations (AFCON). 

The trend reflects growing concerns about players’ welfare amid increasingly congested itineraries. It represents a larger problem in the structure of competition in modern soccer: The international and club leagues (La Liga, Liga F, EPL, Women’s Super League, Serie A, Serie A Femminile) alike play intense schedules. In September, only days before he tore his ACL, Manchester City midfielder and 2024 Ballon d’Or winner Rodri claimed players were considering striking over the UEFA Champions League expanding its schedule for club teams

The injury he suffered darkly underscores the physical toll professional-level soccer can extract. Rodri has played nearly 200 games of televised soccer in the Premier League since his debut in 2019 and performed well enough to win the European Championship with Spain this summer. This has taken a predictable toll on the 28-year-old: He accepted his Ballon d’Or on crutches and confirmed his absence for the rest of this season, an unfortunate price for even the highest honour.

This challenge transcends borders and genders, as both men’s and women’s soccer face gruelling demands that threaten players’ health. The thread of injury among high-level players is painfully easy to follow. It certainly stretches to this year’s Nations League; other notable injuries are piling up for Spain, like 17-year-old phenom Lamine Yamal, suffering from an ankle injury, and right-back Dani Carvajal, now sitting on the sidelines following knee surgery. 

Women’s soccer is experiencing a similar surge in international and domestic competitions but without comparable resources or medical support. Ghana’s Black Queens, for example, have seen significant progress in recent years, yet they often operate with reduced access to facilities and less financial backing than their men’s counterparts. The disparity amplifies the risks women players face when navigating their schedules. As women’s soccer grows, exemplified by record-breaking attendance at events like the 2023 FIFA Women’s World Cup, there is a real danger that the same mistakes made in men’s soccer—overburdening players for the sake of revenue—will be repeated.

The absence of stars is expected to significantly alter the landscapes of matches, team dynamics and tactical approaches. While it presents a challenge for managers, it also creates opportunities for youngsters to gain minutes and an opportunity to shine on the European stage. These moments accelerate the development of emerging talents, offering a chance for them to prove themselves to their clubs and national teams.

At the same time, missing stars leads to less predictable outcomes. Levelling the playing field increases the potential for upsets, injecting excitement but underscoring the need for balanced rosters that adapt without compromising performance.

While competitions like the Nations League and AFCON qualifiers showcase the beauty of international soccer, their value must be weighed against player safety. Governing bodies, clubs, and national associations must collaborate to prioritize recovery and minimize risks. Conversations about the relevance of certain tournaments are touchy but crucial when mismanagement could make or break multimillion-dollar contracts. Players, in opting out of representing their countries this fall, are showing that priorities are shifting: It’s easy for names such as Harry Kane and Trent Alexander-Arnold to reserve their England appearances for the biggest tournaments or Thomas Tuchel’s upcoming takeover of the team, without risking overexertion and or missing out on club football’s wealth.

Players will continue playing under suboptimal conditions. However, no matter the rewards, players should not be made to play under such conditions. Despite the physical toll, as Rodri would attest, such prizes as the Ballon d’Or make the recovery sweeter, if not worth it. However, no one has yet won the award off the back of a Nations League performance.

Science & Technology

Laurie Olin showcases storied career in landscape architecture

On Nov. 12, McGill’s Peter Guo-hua Fu School of Architecture hosted the 2024 edition of the annual David J. Azrieli Lecture in Architecture. This year’s lecturer was Laurie Olin, a distinguished architect who began his career over 50 years ago, and is now a partner at OLIN—a Philadelphia and Los Angeles-based architecture firm. Olin presented a whirlwind tour of his life story, chronicling a career that has witnessed upheavals, slow changes, and fundamental shifts in the field of architecture. 

Olin, who is now 86, originally studied Civil Engineering at the University of Alaska during the 1950s before completing a Bachelor’s of Architecture from the University of Washington in 1961. During the 1960s, he made his home in the Seattle area, spending long periods of time in a cabin on the scenic Bainbridge Island. While there, he became involved in a struggle with the local government to preserve Pike Place Market, a public market hosting independent vendors that today is one of Seattle’s primary tourist attractions. The process impressed upon Olin the importance of vibrant, public places for the local community to gather—an emphasis that remained throughout Olin’s career—but it also took a toll on his mental health. 

“I didn’t want to have another breakdown, but I wanted to get out of town,” Olin said in his lecture. 

And he did get out of town. His travels took him to England, where he fell in love with the sprawling gardens attached to many country houses, and Rome, where he was fascinated by a city that had more historical layers than the United States could ever dream of.

It was around this time that Olin found his niche: Buildings were alright, but he found he was most passionate about the outdoor public spaces that surrounded them. This field turned out to be called “landscape architecture,” an area that was just beginning to enter into formal architecture study in the 1960s and 70s. 

Landscape architecture includes the design of parks, plazas, and urban spaces like intersections and walkways. Olin noticed early on that introducing beautiful design into these spaces had the power to transform them from abandoned afterthoughts into bustling community centres. Olin called this “the confidence game of having a beautiful landscape,” referencing the way design could influence people’s attitudes about a space. 

Olin’s commitment to making appealing, useful public spaces has taken him around the United States, from Seattle’s Gas Works Park—a creative repurposing of old industrial machinery for a children’s playground—to the redesign of Bryant Park, which surrounds the New York Public Library in Manhattan. More recently, he was involved in the iconic Apple Park project, which is best known for Apple’s famous circular mega-office building, but Olin was quick to note that the site is surrounded by over a hundred acres of carefully-planned meadows, running paths, and fruit trees. 

Over the course of his long career, Olin has seen landscape architecture grow from a fledgling discipline into a recognized part of architecture practice. He has also witnessed sea changes in the whole field, describing in his talk the first project where his firm used computer-generated plans and CAD modeling. He also discussed the increase in the presence of woman architects over the last 50 years. 

“Of course, there were women [in the 1970s], but nobody knew about them,” Olin said. 

He also described the increasing emphasis on social justice, awareness, and responsibility in landscape architecture over the years. His more recent projects, including his firm’s plans for improving the infrastructure around the Los Angeles River, have prioritized concerns like easy access to green space for low-income areas and reconnecting communities that have been separated by the construction of highways. 

Throughout all of these changes, Olin has centred beauty and careful design in community spaces, always believing in the transformative power of architecture. 

“He asked me ‘Why on Earth would people go there?’” Olin said, describing skepticism about one of his projects to revamp an urban intersection. “I told him, ‘Well I don’t know, but make something beautiful, and people will show up.’”

McGill, News, The Tribune Explains

The Tribune Explains: How to access abortion as a McGill student

Disclaimer: This article serves as an informational resource only and does not provide medical advice. Please consult a medical professional for more information on the abortion treatment options specific to your community.

Navigating access to healthcare services and insurance coverage is challenging, especially when getting an abortion. For McGill students seeking this form of reproductive healthcare, The Tribune untangles how to engage with abortion services, both at McGill and in Quebec more broadly.

Who qualifies for abortion in Quebec?

There are two methods of abortion: Taking the pills mifepristone and misoprostol, or undergoing a surgical procedure where suction empties a pregnant person’s uterus of its fertilized egg. In Canada, abortion is a legal medical procedure. 

In Quebec, abortion is available up to the 24-weeks gestation mark. Abortion providers in Quebec do not require a referral from a medical professional; only a positive result on a urine pregnancy test, which can be purchased at a pharmacy and some convenience stores and administered at home, is needed. Those over the age of 14 do not need parental permission to access abortion.

What does an abortion cost?

Abortion is free for Quebec residents, as it is covered under provincial health insurance. For international students, McGill’s International Health Insurance (IHI) plan covers abortion. Provided by Medavie Blue Cross and mandatory for all registered international students, the plan covers any intentional termination of pregnancy performed by a physician up to 24 weeks of gestation. 

To avoid having to pay out of pocket and submit a reimbursement claim for a medically-necessary abortion, Medavie Blue Cross allows direct billing for students who show their Blue Cross IHI card at the Centre de santé des femmes de Montréal clinic. Students can obtain their IHI card on Minerva. From the Minerva “Main Menu,” students can navigate to “Student Menu,” then the “International Health Insurance Coverage Form (for students)” tab, and then the “Print IHI card” link. Otherwise, students must obtain a receipt from the provider to submit a claim to Medavie Blue Cross.

Nationwide, at least one form of abortion is free for those with provincial or territorial health insurance, non-insured health benefits, or the Interim Federal Health Program. However, there are different provincial and territorial guidelines around what is covered and at what week of gestation abortion is limited. The McGill Student Wellness Hub can help students navigate their insurance plans to avoid administrative fees from accessing out-of-province abortion. Their on-site doctors and nurses can also help visitors book abortion appointments.

Without health coverage, the abortion pill—called Mifegymiso in Canada—costs $300-$450 CAD. According to Centre de santé des femmes de Montréal, surgical abortion costs $780-$980 CAD.

What the process of abortion might look like

After finding an abortion provider, the medical professional will assess one’s medical history and the progression of their pregnancy via ultrasound or blood test to determine what kind of abortion is optimal.

If prescribed the abortion pill, which is offered until up to nine weeks of gestation, one can usually perform the abortion at home. In this case, users take a mifepristone tablet to block the uterus’ pregnancy hormones. After 36-48 hours, users take a dose of misoprostol to cause uterine contractions (heavy cramping) that expel the pregnancy sac through the vagina.

Surgical abortion typically takes 5-10 minutes, and can cause moderate to high-intensity cramping. During a surgical abortion, your practitioner can also insert a copper intrauterine device (IUD) free of charge.

Post-abortion care

For many, deciding to have an abortion is a difficult decision that comes with emotional and mental challenges. The Student Wellness Hub can offer students individual mental health support along with potentially relevant therapy groups. The Hub can also help prescribe and administer other methods of birth control post-abortion. 

Beyond McGill, Les Centres de santé des femmes du Québec offer a guide to exploring post-abortion emotions, whose use they suggest be accompanied by therapeutic counselling. The organization also offers support groups in English and French for people who have undergone abortion.

Please visit the Student Wellness Hub website and McGill’s IHI resources for more information about healthcare coverage. For more information on abortion access and support, visit Les Centres de santé des femmes du Québec.

Arts & Entertainment, Music

Opera McGill haunts audiences with ‘Blond Eckbert’

For their second opera of the season, Opera McGill performed Blond Eckbert by composer and librettist Judith Weir, a piece that blends elements of fairy tale and horror. Based on a German short story of the same name by Ludwig Tieck, the tale centres around Eckbert’s wife, Berthe (MacKenzie Sechi/Maddalena Ohrbach), as she recounts her tragic upbringing.  

As attendees settle in for the performance, the orchestra plays a blend of foreboding notes that creep along the floor, promising an unsettling evening. When the lights dim, an animation of a bird drawn in harsh pen strokes projected along the front of the room begins to fly. 

In an interview with The Tribune, Stage Director Sawyer Craig explained that these drawings were largely inspired by the illustrations of American writer Edward Gorey, who himself was a great influence on American director and animator Tim Burton

A figure cloaked in black fur, feathers, and a headpiece resembling a raven slowly walks up to the stage with deliberate, menacing movements that imitate the orchestra’s slicing violin. The Bird (Rebecca Gray/Len Crino) walks in a crouched position, glaring at audience members with sharp, avian turns of their head. The audience is immediately engaged, asking themselves who the creature is, their relevance, anticipating the moment they will begin to sing.

A couch, chairs, and a coffee table, all covered in white cloth, are scattered onstage. As the Bird begins to sing, Eckbert (Mihnea Nitu/Christopher Pitre-McBride) and Berthe uncover the furniture. Berthe wears a simple black dress; Eckbert is in black and white dress clothes, leaving the focus on the Bird. Even when silent, they are continuously moving. They perch on top of objects, glower at the audience, and hover around characters. The Bird is fascinating, acting as both the source of audience discomfort through their staring, but also comedic relief by rolling their eyes and pulling on the characters’ costumes.

Berthe begins to tell her story, singing of how she ran away from an abusive home life and ended up living with an old woman who, naturally, owned a magical bird that produced jewels—then she ran away again. Throughout Berthe’s story, the orchestra acts as a character in and of itself. Its music thickens the space with heavy anticipation, coaxing Berthe to continue speaking when the pain of her past leaves her speechless. At times, instruments took turns playing, the sharp violin and the clarinet sometimes stopping altogether to emphasize the weight of Berthe’s silence. 

Characters make optimal use of the room’s space, both mentally and physically engaging the audience by forcing them to shift in their seats with discomfort. At several points throughout the opera, characters appear and begin to sing on the balcony at the back of the room. The movement is uncomfortable. Audience members are no longer passive viewers, but participating in the story. Characters demand audience attention and the simple turn of one’s head is a form of submission. This transition implicates spectators in the questionable actions characters make, amplifying feelings of disturbance. 

The second act of the opera is filled with rash decisions and confusing conclusions. Someone dies of an unknown cause; Eckbert’s delusions drive him to murder, and so he runs away. In the last few moments of the opera, countless secrets are divulged—the most jarring being that Berthe is actually Eckbert’s sister. Eckbert slowly falls to the floor. His death is ambiguous; it is unclear if he dies from shock, an illness, or at the hands of the old woman. Either way, perhaps it’s for the best. The sharp shift from nearly an hour of build-up to a rapid succession of action is jarring. Although there is shock value in this dichotomy, it also feels incomplete, leaving the audience with questions they are forced to take home with them. 

Audience members, once getting past the fact that the opera’s lovers are siblings, are forced to reflect on the destructive nature of keeping secrets and the unreliability of perception. Our incredible fear of the unknown, coupled with the anxiety of rejection, drives us into silence. However, Blond Eckbert is a reminder that this silence is not safe. It’s violently haunting. 

Blond Eckbert played at the Elizabeth Wirth Music Building on Nov. 7 and 8.

Science & Technology

Do McGill’s Life Science majors meet students’ demands?

Selecting your major can be majorly intimidating. What if you make the wrong choice, or inadvertently close doors to future opportunities?

McGill’s Biomedical, Biological, and Life Sciences program offers a menu of seven majors for undergraduates to choose from: Anatomy & Cell Biology (ACB), Biochemistry, Biology, Microbiology & Immunology (MIMM), Pharmacology & Therapeutics, Physiology, and Psychology

In contrast, the University of Toronto (UofT) offers a dizzying 20 Life Sciences majors and 21 specialist programs. Concordia University offers three primary Life Science majors with a variety of honours and specializations. What’s the Goldilocks number? 

Students shared how they navigate McGill’s options in a survey distributed by The Tribune. 

Some of McGill’s majors combine concentrations that other universities keep independent, often pushing students to study subjects they are less keen on.

“I don’t enjoy some of my courses that are more organismal biology-focused. I wish that there was more specificity within Biology, so that I wouldn’t have to take as many courses that didn’t interest me,” said Emma Helman, U3 Biology.

On the other hand, combining subjects can help to make sure students receive a comprehensive education. 

“There’s no harm in having a foundation in complementary disciplines, especially at the undergraduate level,” Dr. Campbell Rolian, Associate Professor in McGill’s ACB department, said in an interview with The Tribune. He pointed to how the course variety produces well-rounded dossiers. 

Some students agreed on the benefits of broadness.

“It makes sense that [microbiology and immunology] are grouped together. You can study what makes you sick (i.e., microbiology) and how your body combats that sickness (i.e., immunology). They’re two sides of the same coin,” Andrew Dayton, U3 MIMM, shared in the survey.

However, Dayton and others expressed that McGill isn’t capitalizing on this opportunity by highlighting the connections and interdependencies between the subjects they group into the seven Life Sciences majors. 

“I assumed that [anatomy and cell biology] were lumped together for a reason, and that there would be some continuity. I have not seen any connections made between the content in my anatomy-focused courses and my cell biology-focused courses,” said Emily Foxman, U3 ACB.

Whether McGill is taking full advantage of the combined majors, having a broader major allows students to explore within the field.

“It’s rare that you come in and know what you want to study,” Rolian noted. 

This was true for Sebastian Sangha, U2 Biology. 

“Having the chance to explore different parts of biology was helpful to me figuring out where I wanted to specialize,” he said in the survey.

Students also noted some gaps in the selection of majors offered by McGill.

“I would like to go into research or academia for molecular genetics. A Molecular Genetics major would have prepared me a lot more,” explained an anonymous U3 ACB student. 

Elsewhere in Canada, UofT offers Fundamental Genetics and Genome Biology majors. McMaster and Queen’s have popular Health Sciences programs; the University of Western Ontario offers a Bachelor of Medical Sciences

Foxman expressed interest in learning about health and medical sciences programs because her ACB major critically does not require any courses on social aspects of health. McGill is in the works of developing a Global Health undergraduate program, but its inaugural year has yet to be announced.

Majors are never glass-slipper fits, but Rolian had words of reassurance. 

“You’re a whole package. Do your best in the absence of a stamp on your degree that says exactly what you focused on,” Rolian said. 

Essentially, do some elective shopping; shape your transcript to reflect personal interests.

“Grad school recruiters usually do their due diligence and look at your transcript in more granular detail,” Rolian said.

Comparing degree planning between universities is an apples-to-oranges situation. Precisely what faculties offer depends on many variables. Rolian suggested that historical contingencies, faculty research interests, and economies of scale play a significant role. 

“There’s no way to standardize curriculum and quality to meet the interests of every student,” Rolian said.

Off the Board, Opinion

Nurturing action through collective care

Five days a week for the past four years, my classmates and I have sat in lecture halls and listened to how humans are destroying the Earth. We’ve learned about global leaders who keep failing to meet their stated climate commitments or how others choose to deny climate change entirely, preferring to suck every last drop of fossil fuels from the ground. We’ve learned about the sneaky ways in which extractive industries rip up rainforests and slither away unscathed. We’ve learned about how we value the natural world in monetary terms, neglecting its inherent worth. We’ve learned about the deep sense of alienation that many people feel from the very Earth that sustains us. I’ve learned all of this and yet, I am hopeful.

While corporations ought to address their climate impacts, they lack the monetary incentives to do so holistically. Governments are so petrified of losing grip on their power that many provide weak, surface-level solutions at best. In an effort to maintain the status quo, they will cut corners and attempt to delegitimize the scale of the threat of climate change. Add to all of this Trump’s recent re-election and the inevitable re-withdrawal from the Paris Agreement and rollbacks of environmental protections from a Republican-controlled Congress, and the threat starts to feel insurmountable. 

So where does that leave us? If corporations and governments can’t adequately address climate change and individual actions feel like just a drop in the bucket, what do we do? Defect? Fly to Bali in a private jet? Buy another piece of synthetic clothing from Shein? Do nothing else but consume because fuck it, the world’s gonna burn anyway?

Recognizing that we are reaching potentially irreparable “ecological tipping points,” as Kyle Whyte, an Indigenous philosopher, writes, is scary—but instead of resigning ourselves to complacency, we can find solace in the creation of community. Individual actions do matter when they are understood as part of a larger network of care. 

We have proof of this in our activist histories and current realities. After more than 10 years of litigation and protesting, it was the broad coalition of Indigenous peoples, ranchers, business-owners, and allies who struck down the implementation of the Keystone XL pipeline. In California, following a massive fish kill in 2002, the Yurok Tribe and allies went to court to breach the dams along the Klamath River. In the past year, those dams have been taken down, the river restored to its natural flow. Less than a year ago, McGill committed to divest from direct holdings in Carbon Underground 200 companies as a result of over a decade of Divest McGill’s direct action. When passionate individuals come together, they create a kind of power that institutions cannot ignore. These connections start small with one conversation or one gift to a neighbour.

Last winter, I lived with 20 other 20-something-year-olds in a hostel with one stove and one oven. What sounded to me like the premise of a reality TV show filled with infighting and gossip turned out to be one of the most fulfilling experiences of my life. We quickly self-organized, deciding on a system of rotating group dinners. As we sat around the table every night, over plates of falafel made from scratch or a family recipe for lasagna, we developed more than just deep relationships. Our commitment to this nightly ritual inspired a culture of sharing and working toward the collective benefit. This instilled values that we carry into our personal lives, work, and political action. We created a microcosm of our visions for the future; it is through the creation of these utopic enclaves that we push toward a more just world.

When I started my degree in Environment, I firmly believed that individual actions were useless in solving climate change—it was the corporations and governments that needed to do the work. And it’s true: One action by one person, just once, does nothing. But when we acknowledge our interdependence, we begin to see ourselves not as unremarkable individuals but as crucial parts of an ecosystem.

Science & Technology

The flaws in educational software selection: A McGill perspective

Over 400,000 educational apps are currently available in app stores, with some of the most popular being Kahoot, Duolingo, and Quizlet—all instantly recognizable to anyone who attended high school after 2010. While these apps can be useful tools for teachers, they vary widely in quality and effectiveness. 

In a recent study, Emma Liptrot, a PhD student in McGill’s Department of Educational and Counselling Psychology, and her team endeavoured to understand the factors influencing educators’ selection of educational apps. 

Liptrot first outlined the five basic educational benchmarks her team developed for high-quality apps.

“If an app is high-quality, it should follow some sort of specific curriculum; provide feedback to students if they make a mistake; include some sort of support to guide students; be developed by a team that includes experts in education, like teachers or researchers; and be based on some sort of learning theory,” Liptrot said in an interview with The Tribune.

Educators were generally more likely to download apps whose written descriptions mentioned these educational benchmarks compared to those mentioning buzzwords like engaging, interactive, hands-on, personalized, and multimedia. They were also willing to pay more for the former ones and give them a higher rating.

Although how well an app meets these educational standards did matter in educators’ choices, researchers found that educators were more likely to be affected by user ratings and app store rankings.

“The study found that high user ratings strongly impact educators’ app choices more than educational benchmarks. Educators’ decisions are influenced by benchmarks only if the app has a neutral rating, not if it has a high or low rating,” Liptrot said.

One possible explanation is that educators rely primarily on user ratings but look for benchmarks when ratings are ambiguous. 

According to Liptrot’s study, educators said they would download apps that mentioned educational benchmarks 57 per cent of the time, compared to buzzwords 49 per cent of the time, whereas they would download apps with positive ratings 90 per cent of the time, compared to negative ratings 13 per cent of the time. 

In general, educators strongly preferred apps with positive ratings: They were more likely to download them, pay more for them, and rate them positively. 

Moreover, Liptrot highlighted that ratings are not always a reliable source of information about the educational quality of a given app.

“You would expect an app that has a five-star user rating to be a high-quality educational app, but the problem is that there are many different things that can go into why an app receives five stars, and anyone can rate an app five stars. Children could rate the app five stars if they think the app is fun. Parents could rate the app five stars if their child really seems to enjoy using it,” Liptrot explained. “Previous research has actually found that user ratings are not associated with the quality of an educational app.”

Educators are ultimately responsible for providing opportunities for meaningful learning within a school environment, so they need to be more discriminating with positively rated apps. 

The app’s ranking in the app store also had a significant impact on educators’ decisions to download, pay for, and rate an app. 

“We expected that educators would prefer top-ranking apps, but our study actually found the opposite, that educators preferred apps ranked toward the bottom of the education charts,” Liptrot said.

According to Liptrot, a likely reason for this observation could be that educators misunderstood ranking, interpreting higher numbers as a “good” ranking when, in fact, “top” apps have rankings closer to one. This confusion may have been more common in the study because participants were shown individual app pages, rather than scrolling through apps from first-ranked to last as they would appear in the app store. 

Moving forward, Liptrot points to a need for companies running app stores to improve their user ratings and ranking systems to facilitate the selection of high-quality educational apps. 

“The next step in the research would involve asking educators which apps they implement in classrooms, how they choose them, and evaluating the quality of these apps,” Liptrot said.

Commentary, Opinion

Supporting youth aging out of care is a community responsibility

I was not a political person. Yet, my identity is politicized, and every action I have taken is seen as a political statement. Driven by the wave of demonstrations in 2020 against police brutality, systemic racism, and the oppression that weighs heavily on our community—including the African diaspora, Indigenous peoples, and other racialized groups—I felt compelled to act. Frustrated by the lack of political will among decision-makers to address systemic issues and by the hesitance among some advocates and activists to commit to meaningful change, I sought ways to channel my energy into tangible solutions. I entered the work of advocacy and community building that year, organizing demonstrations, leading critical race theory workshops, and providing mutual aid support for vulnerable community members.

My work led me to the Maison d’Innovation Sociale (MIS), where I was accepted into their Civic Incubator Program’s Winter 2021 cohort. This initiative supports projects with social and environmental impact, helping them evolve from early ideas to mature solutions. The program’s 2021 cohort, which focused on resilience during the pandemic, was instrumental in my development of the Holistic Afro Youth Center, a nonprofit addressing the systemic challenges faced by youth aging out of institutional care.

At protests, I began speaking out about these injustices. People started calling me an activist and advocate—labels I never claimed but couldn’t ignore. Youth aging out of care face insurmountable challenges: A lack of stable housing, mental health support, educational opportunities, and safety nets that many take for granted. To me, it didn’t feel like activism—it felt like an inherent responsibility to shed light on these struggles and demand the change that these youth, and so many others, desperately need.

In Quebec, around 2,000 youth exit the child welfare system each year, often left to fend for themselves at just 18. While many of us rely on family into our twenties, these youth are expected to immediately become self-sufficient. It’s no surprise they are almost 200 times more likely to experience homelessness than their peers. Programs like the Programme qualification des jeunes offer limited support, but the system that once controlled their lives now leaves most of them isolated and vulnerable.

As McGill students, we hold immense privilege. We have access to world-class education, mentorship, and resources that help us navigate life’s challenges. Nearly half of Canadians aged 20 to 29 still live with a parent, benefiting from financial and emotional support. In stark contrast, youth aging out of care are thrust into independence almost overnight. Many of these youth report childhood trauma: 63.1 per cent experienced abuse, with 51.1 per cent reporting physical abuse and 24 per cent sexual abuse. Over half were involved with child protection services, often beginning before the age of six.

The consequences are stark. Out of every 1,000 foster youth in Canada, only eight will graduate with a post-secondary degree. The barrier is not a lack of ambition but the absence of foundational care networks that make success possible. This is more than a statistic—it’s a call for accountability. Youth from care deserve stable housing, quality education, mental health support, and meaningful relationships, just like any of us. 

Supporting youth aging out of care demands action. By addressing their unique challenges, expanding access to critical services, and investing in their potential, we can empower them while strengthening our community. While McGill has taken steps to support former foster youth through initiatives like the Youth in/from Care Bursary and mentorship programs, more can be done. Expanding financial aid to cover living expenses and course materials, and providing dedicated advising, counselling, and peer networks tailored to youth from care, would create a more inclusive environment. By prioritizing these actions, McGill can set a powerful example of how institutions can break systemic cycles of marginalization. It’s time to stop watching from the sidelines. Let’s advocate for a future where every young person aging out of care has the support they need to build a life they can be proud of.

Science & Technology

Fighting a silent pandemic: The urgent threat of Antimicrobial Resistance

The world is on the brink of a silent pandemic—one where currently treatable infections risk becoming once again life-threatening. This looming danger is Antimicrobial Resistance (AMR), a phenomenon where microbes, such as bacteria and fungi, evolve to resist the medications designed to kill them. Imagine a reality where a routine surgery could become fatal due to untreatable infections. AMR is an urgent global health concern, posing significant challenges for modern medicine and healthcare. 

Dr. Dao Nguyen, Associate Professor in McGill’s Department of Medicine and Director of the McGill AMR Centre, highlights the complexities of AMR, spreading awareness for World Antimicrobial Awareness Week, which started Nov. 18.

“Antimicrobial resistance is a major and complicated issue. On a simple level, it affects individuals with infections, whether it’s something as common as an ear infection or more serious, like infections in immunocompromised patients in hospitals,” Nguyen said in an interview with The Tribune. “It’s like a perfect storm, where microbes have the ability to evolve and will continue to find new ways to resist the drugs we use against them.” 

Nguyen emphasizes that a major factor contributing to AMR is the overuse of antibiotics, particularly over the last 50 years. Antibiotics are not only used in hospitals but also in other environments such as farms and even the soil, which has led to an increasing presence of drug-resistant microbes in various settings. 

Another key issue is the lack of investment by pharmaceutical companies in the development of new antibiotics. Over the last two to three decades, companies have largely stopped investing in research on new antimicrobial medications. Nguyen warns that without the development of new tools to address these pathogens, the risks to public health will continue to intensify. 

AMR poses significant challenges globally, but the burden is disproportionately severe in low-and middle-income countries in Africa, Asia, and certain regions of Europe. These areas often lack the resources to manage the spread of resistant microbes effectively. However, the interconnected nature of global health means that AMR is not confined to any one region. 

“It’s important to remember that microbes move with the people who carry them. Similar to the way COVID-19 spread, a problem that initially appears localized, such as in Africa, for example, can quickly spread and cause outbreaks in more resourced countries,” Nguyen said. “This rapid movement makes AMR a global concern, as issues in one region can easily impact others.” 

In Canada, while AMR is less severe compared to some global hotspots, it is far from negligible. 

“A quarter of infections that Canadians get are due to bacteria that are resistant to the first choice of antibiotic that your doctor would give you,” Nguyen explained. This means doctors must resort to second- or third-line treatments, which are often more expensive, less accessible, and carry greater side effects for patients. 

Upon recognizing the growing threat of AMR, institutions like the McGill AMR Centre are taking steps to address this challenge. Established in 2021, the Centre confronts this complex issue through interdisciplinary research, education, and outreach. Nguyen emphasized that the Centre seeks to bridge diverse fields—microbiology, engineering, and medicine—to foster collaborations that drive innovative solutions.

“One of the areas of focus is trying to support projects that are ready to become a technology that is ready to be translated into something very concrete and in the real world,” Nguyen explained. “So for example, it could be a new therapy, a new diagnostic test […] and supporting a more entrepreneurial type of research.”

Researchers are collaborating with the McGill Innovation Fund to support teams focused on developing practical, real-world solutions. Their goal is to translate academic research into initiatives that have the potential for commercialization or significant tangible impact. 

The fight against AMR requires immediate and collective action. As World Antimicrobial Awareness Week nears, it serves as a critical reminder that combating AMR is a shared responsibility. By using antibiotics responsibly, supporting scientific advancements, and advocating for better healthcare policies, together we can contribute to curbing the silent pandemic.

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