I remember vividly sitting in my first Mass Communications lecture at university, amongst some 300-odd nervous youngsters, waiting for The Man to show up and enlighten me. When he finally showed – late, trailing his entourage of TAs and adjuncts – I was underwhelmed. Even from the depths of that giant lecture hall, I could see that he was a small, high-strung little man who clearly wanted to set the tone for the coming year with the strength and conviction of his opening remarks. “Refer to your handouts if you wish to follow along” said he as he began to lay out the curriculum for the coming year. For the first time, I looked at the mimeographed sheets I had been handed as I entered the hall, and what I saw set the course of my life: the Man, however mighty he might think he was, could not spell. And what was worse, his grammar sucked, too.
Four years later, I took my new English degree, left The Man, and never looked back. When I entered my first class at Algonquin the following year, I looked around at my 30-odd classmates who, like me, were about to embark on this brand new adventure, and knew it was going to be a whole new ball game. I would know every one of their names by week’s end, and maintain contact with many of them to this day. Together, we shared a remarkable journey through the birth of the PR program, and I, like many of my fellow alumni, still feel a very strong connection. It has never occurred to me to turn away from Algonquin – I will always feel that it is there that I found my first academic home.
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