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Meet Camila Lefebvre, a graduand of the University of New Brunswick (UNB), who sharpened her storytelling skills as an intern with Strategic Communications & Marketing at UNB, crafting narratives for the UNB Newsroom. Camila’s passion for words—how they connect people, shape perspectives and elevate underrepresented voices—will continue to grow as she embarks on her next academic adventure. This fall, she is heading to McMaster University to pursue a master’s in English and cultural studies, with the goal of helping small presses bring diverse stories to light.

When I was in high school, the future felt exciting, yet it also felt like a vast and cloudy coastline. I had dreams of being a writer and immersing myself in the world of literature, but I didn’t yet have a compass.

As a Brazilian immigrant, I carried the expectations of my family and the hope for a better life in Canada like a weight and a promise. I worked hard to make the most of the opportunities my parents had sacrificed so much to give me. I felt inspired by my mother’s extensive post-secondary education.

When it came time to choose a university, I listened closely to the voices around me—to my teachers who spoke highly of the University of New Brunswick (UNB), and friends who thrived in Fredericton’s university atmosphere.

It was a gut instinct. It felt like the place where I could begin.

From the start, I saw UNB as a path toward independence.

For me, university wasn’t just about a degree. It was about growing into myself; about learning how to live away from home, taking flight from the nest. I began wide-eyed and hopeful, excited about this new chapter.

No amount of preparation could have eased my nerves in my very first English class. I skipped over first-year credits thanks to the International Baccalaureate (IB) program and dove straight into second-year courses. I was completely terrified to speak in class.

When the due date for my first essay was approaching, I told my professor, Dr. Edith Snook that this was my first time writing a university paper. She encouraged me to ask any questions during the process and offered to review my thesis beforehand.

That generosity of spirit, I would come to learn, was not rare among UNB professors—it was the standard. For four years, I was nurtured in a learning environment that valued curiosity, dialogue and collaboration.

I truly believe the success of my degree comes down to the collaborative environment my professors fostered in the classroom. It is one of the things I will miss the most after graduating.

But growth is rarely a straight line.

Halfway through my degree, personal challenges came crashing in, shaking the structure I had built. I was overwhelmed and drained, struggling to keep pace.

At first, I tried to compartmentalize—to push through—but it wasn’t sustainable. Seeking help led me to campus mental health services and the Accessibility Centre.

There, I found people who taught me that seeking accommodations isn’t weakness, it’s wisdom. With their support, I learned how to care for myself and keep moving forward—not despite my mental health, but in balance with it.

Through it all, the classroom remained a safe space—a place where empathy was practiced.

I met peers who shared similar experiences, and slowly, I let go of the shame I once felt for needing support. I began to believe that I could succeed on my own terms.

One moment that defines my time here came in my second year at a career fair at the Wu Centre, which I attended with my fourth-year friend.

We walked from table to table, speaking to the different representatives.

At each table, I felt my heart begin to race at the realization that an English degree could be valuable for a career in communications. I saw, maybe for the first time, a future where I could use words to build bridges, tell stories and make an impact.

That idea became real during my internship within the office of Strategic Communications & Marketing (SCM) at UNB.

I had always imagined I would pursue fiction-writing or publishing, but journalism? Community storytelling? These were revelations.

With the guidance of thoughtful supervisors, I explored writing as a force for representation and connection. I learned how much power lives in listening—and how this form of storytelling can elevate voices that deserve to be heard. I learned that words can have a profound impact.

The pace wasn’t always easy. In my third year, I was balancing five courses and an internship with a small publishing company. There were long nights, endless to-do lists and moments where I questioned whether I could manage it all. But I learned to advocate for myself—to speak up when I needed extensions or support. I realized that self-belief is crucial when you’re juggling so much.

UNB gave me the flexibility to shape my education around my needs and passions. I learned that success isn’t about rushing through—it’s about moving with intention. It’s about taking the time to understand who you are and what you want to offer the world.

If I could speak to my first-year self, I would hold her hand and say: You don’t need to twist yourself into something to belong. You are enough. You are worthy of kindness—especially from yourself.

Looking back, the lesson that echoes the loudest is this: there is no one right way to earn a degree.