A love letter to the people who made this journey what it was

When I started at Fanshawe back in the summer of 2015, I thought I was taking a job in social media.

Looking back more than ten years later, I realize social media was my title, my craft and the platform through which I did the work, but it was never what defined my experience.

What defined the experience was the people I met along the way and worked alongside.

As I prepare to close this chapter and begin a new one, I find myself thinking less about campaigns, platforms, metrics or projects and more about the people who shaped my journey along the way. The people who challenged me, supported me, trusted me, taught me, laughed with me and occasionally helped me hold things together when everything felt like it was falling apart.

When people ask what I'll remember most about my time at Fanshawe, it won't be a specific campaign or a particular post.

It will be the people.

One of my earliest memories is a meeting with a voluntold Social Media Team member named Jessica. She wasn't thrilled to be there and she wasn't afraid to say so. She was frustrated by the lack of support and resources available to the team and she was honest about it.

That conversation stuck with me.

It got me thinking about what people needed to be successful. It started my brain spinning on training, resources, support systems and advocacy. Looking back, that conversation helped shape so much of what came later. Many of the things I'm most proud of started because someone was willing to be honest about what wasn't working.

I think about all of the staff members who had social media handed to them and immediately thought, "This is not what I signed up for."

People like Dawn, Kara, Laura, Alysha, Brigitte, Jackie, Mandy and so many others.

Social media wasn't their training. It wasn't their expertise. It wasn't why they came to work every day and yet they learned. Some hired students and built support around themselves. Others dove in headfirst, attended training, asked questions, experimented and discovered skills they never expected to have.

One of the most rewarding parts of my role was watching people surprise themselves.

I got to watch people go from uncertainty and panic to confidence and creativity. I watched them find their voices and expand their skill sets. I watched them become better communicators, storytellers and advocates for their students and departments.

The truth is, I admired their willingness to try.

I think about Dave (may he rest in peace) and Jenny in Retail and how their willingness to trust me and collaborate laid the groundwork for so much of the work that followed. Their openness to new ideas helped shape what would eventually become broader student services strategies.

I think about Connor, Virginia and Gerry, they gave me hope. Not because they taught me a different way to work, but because they reflected back the kind of collaboration I had always believed was possible.

The way they partnered with their clients, the way they trusted one another's expertise and the way they welcomed me into that relationship reminded me that collaboration doesn't have to be competitive.

It can be generous.

It can be curious.

It can be rooted in mutual respect.

Working with them reassured me that I wasn't asking for too much. The kind of partnership I believed in wasn't unrealistic, it existed. I had simply found people who worked that way too.

That mattered more than they probably ever realized.

I think about the countless partnerships that developed over the years. The departments that trusted me with their stories. The people who shared their expertise and allowed me to help tell it.

Social media is built on relationships and I was fortunate to have many people trust me with theirs.

And then there are the students. I don't know if I can adequately put into words what the students meant to me.

Hiring that first work-study student, Jenny, changed everything. Together we helped prove the value of student workers in the social media space. What started with one student eventually became years of hiring, supervising, mentoring and learning alongside dozens of students.

Cadie. Sam. Wayne. Lucas. Naomi. Nick. Cassidy. Travis. Amanda. Owen. Gaby. Cam.

Madison. Valeria. Kailey. Thalia. Karina. Jose. Johan. Aaron. Manan. Rashawna. Shade. And so many others.

Together we created content, solved problems, tested ideas, covered events, celebrated wins and occasionally created content that performed far beyond our expectations.

I still laugh thinking about the Barbie and Oppenheimer content our most viral ever (thanks Travis and Cassidy).

I think about the obsession with beating the pop a shot record (Cadie)

I still remember some of the content that went viral and then had to vanish almost immediately (thanks Nick).

I remember Open Houses, Convocations, Knights games, photoshoots, last-minute requests and the moments where we all somehow pulled off something special together.

But what I treasure most isn't the content.

It's the people.

It's watching students find confidence in themselves.

It's helping them find their voice.

It's teaching them that their perspective mattered.

It's encouraging them to ask questions, challenge assumptions and trust their instincts.

And if I'm being honest, they taught me just as much as I taught them.

One of the greatest gifts of my career has been watching some of those relationships continue long after the work terms ended.

One of my favourite memories is travelling to PSEWeb with Cadie and Dayan.

Somewhere between train rides, conference adventures and getting caught in a torrential downpour that completely defeated our umbrellas, our relationship shifted. At one point Cadie had what I can only describe as an "Oh, we're actually friends" realization.

Watching students grow is rewarding.

Having them stay in your life afterward is something entirely different.

I think about the Discord moderators who volunteered their time to help create a positive and welcoming community. When our server was raided, they stepped up, helped recover what was lost and worked alongside me to rebuild.

Most students never knew their names, but I did and I'll never forget them.

I think about the people who quietly made my job possible.

My go to guy J in Scheduling, who always seemed to know when schedules would be visible and was always willing to share the details.

Uwe and S, who somehow managed to help me access old accounts, create new accounts and solve countless technical challenges over the years.

Diane, one of my earliest Office of the Registrar connections, who helped answer student questions and supported the work happening in our inboxes and DMs.

The academic advisors and field placement coordinators who were endlessly patient, kind and responsive every summer when students had questions and information was hard to find.

The OOR team who constantly shared information, updates and context. Krista adding me to your teams distro-list so I had the same information to share with students through social.

The people who always seemed to know the answer.

Every institution has people like this.

The people behind the scenes who quietly keep everything moving.

I was lucky enough to know many of them.

I think about United Way. I got involved because I had too many opinions and too much feedback. Before long, Amy and I found ourselves doing a lot to keep things moving and on track.

Somewhere along the way, the Silent Auction grew from roughly $2,500 into more than $6,500 and became the College's largest annual United Way fundraiser.

What I'll remember most, though, isn't the number (ok I do because I was damn proud).

It's the people who cared enough to make it happen.

I think about Dan Brodbeck being open to one of my stranger ideas: creating a QuaranTunes playlist for our Music Industry Arts alumni during the pandemic.

It was one of those ideas that could have easily been dismissed.

Instead, Dan leaned in.

What started as a simple idea to create connection during a difficult time eventually grew into an award-winning campaign and, more importantly, something that resonated with the people it was created for.

I'll always remember the alumni who reached out to say they appreciated being included, recognized and celebrated during such an uncertain period.

I think about sitting with the Alumni (C & O)team talking strategy and watching the light bulbs come on. Watching them see new possibilities. Watching their confidence grow as they developed their own voice and approach. Those moments were every bit as rewarding as the campaigns themselves.

I think about Open House and the incredible evolution of that work over the years.

What began as a press release eventually became a full communications strategy with school board outreach, community outreach, toolkits, earned media support and resources for faculty and staff.

I think about Teacher Appreciation Week and the impact it had on so many faculty.

The SKILLS competitors and making sure they got their recognition.

The 50th anniversary display that somehow never fit through doorways, constantly broke clips and appeared determined to give splinters to everyone who touched it.

I think about International Welcome and Ali and the seemingly endless supply of elastics that snapped back with enough force to make us question whether we'd survive the day with both eyes intact.

I think about Dayan taking over my role during maternity leave. We spent weeks preparing for every possible scenario we could think of.

And then a global pandemic arrived.

Somehow that feels like the most accurate summary of communications work imaginable.

I think about sitting in a boardroom with Dayan, Cadie, Sam and Wayne and at some point all of us ending up in tears because we were carrying too much and trying our best to keep everything moving forward (that summer was insane).

I think about walking into some rooms in my early tenure and people not being receptive to what I was putting forward for social. At the time it felt overwhelming.

Today it makes me smile because it reminds me how much social media and perhaps more importantly, my confidence has evolved since then.

I think about the students who stopped me in hallways, sent messages or reached out to tell me that something I shared helped them.

That I made them feel more prepared.

More welcome.

More confident.

Those moments meant more than they probably realized.

I think about the faculty who invited me into their classrooms and trusted me with their students. Those early opportunities to guest lecture gave me my first taste of teaching and eventually led me to opportunities I never would have imagined.

I think about Higher Ed Social. I often joke that Higher Ed Social raised me.

I stumbled into that community as a fresh-faced social media manager trying to figure out what I was doing. Somewhere along the way I became the loudest Canuck in the room.

More importantly, I found my confidence.

I found people who understood the work.

People who challenged me.

People who encouraged me.

People who made room for my voice.

I think about #PSEWeb.

Melissa's reaction after one of my presentations remains one of the most pivotal moments of my career.

I think about Josie Ahlquist inviting this Canadian girl into the Student Social Media Academy.

I think about Keystone Group inviting me to sit on panels beside directors and senior managers from institutions I admired.

For a long time, I underestimated the value of my own experiences and perspective. Every person who attended a presentation, asked a thoughtful question, reached out afterward or shared how something I discussed helped them contributed to my confidence in ways they will probably never fully understand.

You helped me realize that my experiences had value beyond my own institution.

Thank you for creating space for my voice.

Thank you for listening.

And thank you for helping me believe I belonged in those rooms too.

I think about my picket line crew. Six weeks is a funny amount of time.

Long enough to form friendships.

Long enough to learn a bit of people's stories.

Long enough to discover who makes you laugh when things are hard.

The people who showed up every day and somehow found reasons to smile, laugh and support one another despite the circumstances.

I think about about our union reps (you know who you are) who have stood beside so many people through incredibly difficult moments. I don't know how you have carried what you carry, but I know many of us are grateful you did.

I think about Peter Devlin. I don't know if I'll ever work in an organization this size again and have the President know who I am and treat me with the respect he consistently showed me.

He took the time to get to know me, valued my expertise and leveraged my knowledge more than once.

That mattered.

I think about the many leaders across the institution who treated me as a peer regardless of my title.

The ones who invited me into conversations.

The ones who shared insights.

The ones who trusted my expertise.

The ones who offered support.

The one who was shocked to discover I wasn't a manager because she assumed I already was.

The people who saw something in me that I often struggled to see in myself.

I think about people who over the last year saw the grief I was carrying, gave it space, encouraged me and championed me when I needed it most.

I think about being nominated for a Labour Achievement Award not once, but twice. I felt like an imposter sitting in that room, but someone saw me that way.

Someone thought I belonged there.

That mattered too.

And finally, I think about the friends.

The people who laughed with me. Cried with me. Shared knowing glances across meeting rooms. Sent perfectly timed gifs. Celebrated victories. Helped carry difficult days.

You know who you are. Thank you.

As I look back on more than ten years (my final day on July 17 will mark 10 years, 11 months and 13 days) at Fanshawe, I realize that while the work mattered, it was never the thing that mattered most.

The people did.

Thank you to everyone who shared part of this journey with me. I couldn't begin to name everyone who made a mark on my time here (I'll kick myself later for the names and memories that I missed).

Thank you for your trust.

Your friendship.

Your patience.

Your expertise.

Your kindness.

Your humour.

Your support.

You helped shape not only the work I did, but the person and professional I became.

I take those lessons, those memories and those relationships with me into whatever comes next.

And for that, I will always be grateful.