An empty classroom. Photo: Wiki Commons.

My deadline was May 28, 2025 — the last day I had to choose which university I wanted to attend.

I remember sitting at my computer, staring at the screen, thinking about what the next four years of my life would look like.

For as long as I can remember, I wanted to be a journalist. I grew up watching reporters like Anderson Cooper and Kaitlan Collins, and imagining myself doing the same thing one day. I loved storytelling and the ability to share human experiences and interactions. Journalism
seemed like the perfect way to do that.

So when I chose to study journalism five hours away from home, I was excited. I imagined classrooms full of debate and discussion. I thought university would be a place where students could challenge ideas, ask difficult questions, and learn how to think critically.

But my first year surprised me in ways I didn’t expect.

In one anthropology class, lectures about the war in Gaza were presented in a way that felt less like an open discussion and more like a fixed narrative. Slides focused heavily on statistics about Palestinian deaths, injuries, and destruction in Gaza, along with reports from organizations accusing Israel of genocide.

Other lectures described Gaza’s tunnel networks as part of the local economy and resistance against Israel. The course also discussed claims that Gaza has become a testing ground for military technologies like drones, surveillance systems, and artificial intelligence targeting tools.

Hearing this week after week, I began to feel there was little opportunity to question the framing or explore other perspectives. Rather than encouraging debate, the classroom sometimes seemed to steer students toward one answer.

This felt at odds with what a university should stand for: a space where ideas are openly debated, not merely presented from a single perspective.

As a Jewish student, I found those moments especially difficult. My background is both Ashkenazi and Mizrahi, and my Jewish identity has always been something I am proud of. I have also always identified as a Zionist. Yet during some of these discussions, I sometimes felt unsure whether there was space to share my perspective without being misunderstood.

What surprised me most was not that people had strong opinions. Universities should absolutely be places where difficult topics are discussed. The problem is when students begin to feel like they should stay silent. When only a single viewpoint dominates, real debate ends and true learning is lost.

This matters especially in fields like journalism. Future journalists are supposed to question narratives, investigate claims, and present multiple perspectives. If students feel pressure to stay quiet when they disagree, we are not practicing the skills that journalism actually requires.

Healthy debate does not require agreement. Disagreement often leads to the most meaningful learning, as it pushes us to think more critically and appreciate the world’s complexity.

That is why I am grateful to have found spaces where open conversation is encouraged. Through those experiences, I have been able to engage in discussions that feel more balanced and respectful.

Recently, I attended a Unity Shabbat where people from many different walks of life came together. Individuals of different religions, cultures, and backgrounds sat around a table and engaged in conversation. Some of my Persian friends joined me as well.

Moments like this reflect a growing sense of allyship between Jewish and Iranian communities, not only on my campus but across universities in Canada. In many ways, that evening represented what universities should strive to be: a place where people with different histories, identities, and perspectives can come together and engage openly.

When I chose my university on May 28 of last year, I imagined a place full of curiosity and debate. My first year has not always felt that way.
But experiences like that remind me why open conversation matters so much.

Universities must teach students how to think, not what to think. Every student should feel empowered to join the conversation.

Miriam Tsipilevich is a student at Carleton University.