In Period 3, history 30 I started crying. My teacher had no idea why I was crying, but he knew I had a flair for the dramatic and would explain myself in a heartbeat. So he asked why I was crying. I was happy to share my feelings with the entire class as I needed answers. What led up to this? It was a simple in-class reading. Four or five paragraphs that describe what the Canadian Identity is. Simple. But the reading upset me in a strange way. The reading describing the Canadian identity had no clue what the Canadian identity was. It used the example of the Canadian identity being the ‘not’ identity. A Canadian isn’t an American. This had me in tears of both dramatic flair and a slightly identity crisis that was starting to take its toll on me.

I basically told my class “I have always identified myself as a Canadian, and as a Canadian who is not an American. This reading called my bluff and told me that that is not a real identity. Comparing yourself to another person does not develop an identity, and yet so much of my identity of being Canadian was about comparing myself to the actions of non-Canadians.” I had stopped crying at this point, but my eyes were still wet and ready for another round of identity crisis related tears. Some of my classmates agreed with me, while others mentioned that they were first generation Canadians so they had a lot of their culture from their parents’ home country to sink their teeth into, so they identified Canadian culture and identity in a completely different way from me. I appreciated my classmates’ feedback but it didn’t help me define what my personal “Canadian” identity is. 

And so I sat there in the front row of a morning class with tears in my eyes looking for an answer to my crisis from my teacher. A wise old man to guide me on this journey of identity. He just looked at me, and like a confused Grandpa, laughed and agreed with what everyone had said and moved on.