Convocation countdown with…Yalda Azari

Program: Honours Life Sciencess

Hometown: Oakville, ON

Favourite course:

You’re missing out, if you’ve never taken Indigenous Health (HTHSCI 3AH3) with the incredible Stephanie George. Stephanie holds immense wisdom and knowledge. She is Oneida/Turtle Clan from Six Nations, in her second year of an MSc at McMaster in Health Science Education, and an Indigenous Midwife and International Board-Certified Lactation Consultant.

Through readings, a midterm art project, and a final advocacy letter, Steph’s class sheds light on injustices and inequities that Indigenous people—in Canada and beyond—face: issues that are under-discussed in the media and in society more broadly. But Steph teaches these topics not in a conventional lecture-based way. Instead, in 3AH3, she pushed us to critically appraise and deeply engage with the material we were learning. Each week, we would read, investigate independently, and then come to class in a round-table format, discussing our insights with our classmates and with Steph

A little bit of a tangent, but I love music and songwriting. I began piano lessons at the age of five, and started songwriting more formally around the age of sixteen, which is also when I began taking on my own singing students (although I had been writing song parodies for my cousins and I to perform for our parents at sleepovers since around the age of ten).

In Steph’s class, I got to exercise my characteristic creativity and I composed an original song for my midterm art project, spending late nights in Togo Salmon Hall using the piano to write lyrics and hash together chords, both of which I developed all on my own. Everything I learned in this course (and also, Steph’s lived experiences, her upbringing, and her daily life) impacted me deeply, and I made a point of truly taking it all in. When I presented my finished song to the class, I saw firsthand how much my art could impact others, much like how Steph’s teachings had impacted me. My dream since I was 16 years old has been to put my original songs out into the world, and I hope that’s something I get to do when I’m less busy, with a window of time. I hope I can make Steph proud in that way.

On the last day of class, Steph gave each of us wallet-sized printouts of a yellow sign with “BELIEVE” written on it from the TV show Ted Lasso, a show about a soccer team and the power of belief, leadership, and hope. As someone who has grown up fully immersed in, playing, and loving soccer since the age of four, I love this show—and Steph does too, not just for the show itself, but also, for what it represents.

Throughout the term, I looked forward to each and every class, though I often left them feeling emotional. We talked about heavy truths in this class—colonial violence, loss, injustice—ones that are often frightening, but necessary, to talk about. What Steph emphasized in her teaching is that, in this space, we must hope and we must believe. Believe in connection instead of isolation, community instead of silence, and healing instead of shame.

Steph carries a deep hope that students will go on to advocate and become voices for change. Yaw^ko (thank you), Steph, for being an outstanding instructor, and I promise to do just that.

Who are you most thankful to have met at Mac?

I am so thankful to have met Dr. Dylan Kobsar, who supervised me for two years as I moved from project course student, to research assistant, to undergraduate thesis student.

I first met Dylan in the first semester of my third year, when he was my professor in LIFESCI 3K03 (Neural Control of Human Movement). He has been the most influential mentor of my undergraduate experience

I’m not sure how much Dylan remembers this, but I still remember the exact room in Chester New Hall where I would go up to his podium after class and ask him occasional questions about the material. Granted, I had taken many courses in psychology and neuroscience and was genuinely very interested in the content (it was an incredible class), but I had also already looked into his scholarly work and the lab he leads (the Kobsar Lab of Biomechanics)—and, admittedly, I was working up the courage to ask how I could get involved

One day, I finally felt ready. I went up to him again, but this time with a different kind of question. That was when he told me there was a spot open in the clinical work his lab does at St. Joseph’s Hospital, which was exactly what I had been hoping for and looking for.

One of my lasting impressions of Dylan, even before working with him directly, was his openness and commitment to student support. I remember during the week of our final exam in 3K03, he came down with COVID and, as I later learned during our call about the position, was juggling a lot at the time—but still hosted a virtual exam review and Q&A just days before the exam and was so incredibly approachable despite all of that.

When I was overthinking concepts or second-guessing myself while studying for the several Topic Tests throughout the term, he would respond with thoughtful, detailed feedback in his emails—even on the day of the test!!!

Ultimately, as a LIFESCI 3RP3 project student, summer research assistant, and LIFESCI 4D15 thesis student, I came to know Dylan far beyond that one course. He has had a lasting impact on my academic and personal development, helping me grow in ways I could never have fathomed, when I first joined our lab back in my third year

Coming into university, academic research was made to seem elusive, closed-off. I once felt that research was distant and inaccessible, but Dylan made it feel tangible and possible. He trusted me to lead data collection and later, analysis, for a longitudinal study at St. Joseph’s Hospital, where we recruited over 380 osteoarthritis patients (which later evolved to become my undergraduate thesis, which was so incredibly fulfilling). Motion capture technology is an important diagnostic tool, and our work aimed to better understand its feasibility (as assessed through osteoarthritis patients’ perceptions) in clinical settings. I felt, and feel, incredibly fortunate to be part of it.

Sitting with patients from all different cultural backgrounds and walks of life was one of the most meaningful parts of my experience. There were moments when I met patients who did not speak English, and I worked with their family members to help translate so we could communicate and complete the study together. It was incredibly rewarding to see how much the research we were doing—and the hope of improved care—meant to them.

There were also patients who had already undergone multiple knee replacements and were still searching for something that could help alleviate their pain. Their spouses and children would come into clinic with them, worried about their pain, mobility, and quality of life.

In those moments, it was clear to me that every data point in my thesis study represented a life, and a whole community and network of people who had been affected by osteoarthritis. I always felt responsible to spend the extra few minutes chatting with a patient, asking them about their hobbies, passions, and family when possible, even if it meant I clocked out a little later or had more work on my plate. Because, to me, it always meant so much more than the data alone.

These experiences also made me reflect on how it all began. I am deeply thankful to Dylan for believing in me and taking a chance on me that day in third year. Without that moment, I never would have had the opportunity to learn about and believe in myself as a researcher, nor would I have had the opportunity to speak with, learn from, and hopefully brighten the days of hundreds of patients and their families—just as they, in many ways, brightened mine

Best moment at Mac:

My most memorable day at McMaster was on April 1st, 2026. It was a full-circle moment for me: April 1st marked the day I interviewed for Faculty of Science Valedictorian, a long-time dream of mine, and it also marked the day of the last tutorial I’d teach, as an undergraduate Teaching Assistant.

That morning, I arrived at my interview, trench coat on and speech in hand. I remember waiting in the hallway on the third floor of BSB, feeling the way I typically do before big milestones: a little nervous, but mostly excited and incredibly prepared (thank you to my friends who let me rehearse on them in empty BSB tutorial rooms between classes and during late evenings in JHE!!)

But despite all my preparation—reading over my speech in cab rides to paediatric vision screenings downtown, pacing my room at night and fine-tuning which expressions made each line land best—I remember being asked a question in my interview, that I had never really paused to consider before: “What was the most memorable part of your time at McMaster?” In a matter of milliseconds, my mind flashed through so many memories—projects I’ve completed, presentations I’ve given, and achievements I’ve worked towards—but ultimately, in that moment, what came to my mind wasn’t a single achievement or title—it was my students. What I told the interview panel (comprised of incredible McMaster staff), was simple: the most memorable part of undergrad has been my students.

On April 1st, my students in SCICOMM 2A03 (Foundations in Science Communication) had their Knowledge Translation Proposal Presentations, where they worked hard for weeks in groups to create presentations about a deliverable they had designed for making science more accessible to the public. I knew that I wanted to do something fun for them that day, to mark the end of our classes together, so I bought their favourite snacks (both halal and non-halal) based on a live poll I frequently run in my tutorials. In that poll, two weeks before our last tutorial together, I asked the kiddos what they wanted for their snacks, and amidst some logical answers, they also joked with me about wanting “Dons” or McDonald’s, “seafood boil,” and even “the biggest beef steak.

Don’t get me wrong, I brought a lot of fan-favourite snacks that day, but with a special condition: an April Fool’s prank that my students did not know about. The idea had been brewing in my mind since they shared their favourite snacks in that same poll. With the help of Aamna, one of the wonderful third-year mentors in my class, we put my plan into action and replaced the fries in each McDonald’s box with fresh baby carrots. I still smile thinking about the students’ reactions (captured on video). They were in such disbelief, and I will never forget the priceless expressions on their faces when I exclaimed, “April Fool’s!” (I’m sorry, T06, if you’re reading this).

Anyways, April Fool’s day aside, there are few things more rewarding than watching a student grow into their confidence and learn to trust themselves. I feel this just as strongly with the students I teach singing to—a role I’ve had the privilege of holding since I was sixteen. Sitting in the back row of the class that day, grading my students’ presentations, I remember feeling an immense sense of pride cascading over me—seeing all 25 of these incredible individuals, each so unique in their backgrounds and talented in their individual passions, come into their own over the course of the term. They had all blossomed so much, and witnessing it was priceless

I’ll never forget it—the night before April 1st, I got home from campus late after going out to buy prizes for my students for the games I had planned for our last day together. I had walked back to campus in the heaviest rainfall I’d ever experienced at university, then stayed on campus even later rehearsing my speech with a friend. When I finally got home, after rehearsing, I was exhausted, but I still stayed up planning the three games we would play after the five group presentations were complete: an extreme version of “This or That” (a game very near and dear to T06, where many of our class inside jokes had originated from), The Ultimate T06 Jeopardy, and a song association game, which was students versus the TA.

After the presentations, and before the games began, we took a class photo, which remains one of the most precious moments I’ve experienced. As we took it—and throughout the entire class (aside from the quiet moments during presentations), the energy, noise, joy, and liveliness in the room were unmatched. On my count of three, my students, their mentors, and I all exclaimed, “Tutorial 6!!!” In my five years of university, I had never seen a group of university students so excited to be in one place.

Turns out, April 1st was also the day the projector in KTH B104 decided to play an April Fool’s prank on us. It worked perfectly for the presentations, but gave out right before it was time for the games I had planned. In the end, I rolled my chair toward the students, who were seated in a semi-circle around me, and ran everything from my laptop—laughter and cheering filling the room as students faced off for the three prizes I had bought. Arguably, it made the moment even more special, and I wouldn’t have had it any other way. Notably, our tutorials were scheduled from 2:30–4:20 pm every Wednesday, but that day, we all stayed in class until 6 pm (!!!)—playing games, breaking tiebreakers, and holding onto every last moment in KTH B104 together. In the end, we left at 6 p.m. —not because we were ready to go, but because another group needed the room. I still believe that it would have been a late night had we not been prompted out.

That day, on April 1st, I told my students I had completed an important interview the same morning, but I didn’t tell them what it was for. The next day, I received the news, and the first people I told were my parents, my rehearsal-bearing friends, and… my students (who flooded our chat with wishes of pride and congratulations). Because I truly believe, without all the (non-physical) things my students have given me, I wouldn’t have reached this moment—achieving a long-time dream of mine, becoming Valedictorian—without them.

This last year has arguably been my busiest. Most days, I’ve been on campus—or moving between back-to-back commitments for long stretches of time—with my busiest days running from 7 a.m. to 11:59 p.m., completely non-stop and packed with commitments. But exactly as I told them in my (long and slightly cheesy) message the day I found out the news, my students have given me the energy, strength, and motivation to push through busy days, late nights, and everything in between.

No matter what I was navigating in my personal life, I always looked forward to teaching them each week. My students (in SCICOMM 2A03, BIOLOGY 1A03, and LIFESCI 2CC3) have coloured my undergraduate experience with life and light, and I truly meant it when I said in my interview that they were the most memorable part of my undergraduate experience. They have provided me a newfound sense of purpose, and have only strengthened the responsibility I’ve always felt to mentor and support young minds.

Person you’ll be most proud to show your degree to:

There ought to be a line under my name on my diploma with the names of both my parents. Without my Mom and Dad, I wouldn’t be half the person I am today. My parents have given every fibre of their being, to give my brother and I every opportunity we could have ever dreamed of. They made sure, both as a little girl and as a young woman, that every opportunity and support was provided to me. The only thing that was ever left to me was the energy and effort I put into it. And that’s why I put 110 per cent into all that I do—it’s because of them. To honour the ways in which they have given so much of themselves to my success and growth. To do my part in embracing all the love, care, and sacrifice they have given me, and to carry that forward into everything I hope to give others in the future. I will be so proud to show them my degree—both my Mom, my best friend whom I call my butterfly, and my Dad, who accompanied me to every group piano class and coached my soccer teams throughout my entire upbringing.

I will also be so proud to show my grandmother, my Gramma, as I call her, my degree. In my Gramma’s presence, I’m like a sponge, always eager to absorb the wisdom she imparts. We love watching a good Turkish drama series together, but we also share long, philosophical conversations. Recently, I asked my Gramma what had brought her the most pride in her 86 years of life, and her answer was immediate and unwavering: her children and grandchildren.

I know I could do anything in the world and my Gramma would still be proud, but I also know she is a little extra proud of me graduating university. Her eyes light up just as much as mine do when I talk about school, and I know that she feels my success and setbacks deeply, too.

When I was a little girl and school days were only half-days, my dad would drive me around in the car until I fell asleep. I would then spend the afternoon at my Gramma’s house until my parents finished work. She has given me so much love and care throughout my life, in ways that feel woven into who I am today. I am already counting down to the moment I can be on stage, look out into the crowd, and see her beautiful face.

Best advice / insider tip for Mac students starting in September:

It’s something I say to my first-years in BIOLOGY 1A03, second-years in SCICOMM 2A03, and to myself as often as I can: positive energy does not dissipate into a vacuum; it is always felt.

This philosophy serves as the north star and guiding compass for how I approach everything that I do. I am a firm believer in reciprocity—I truly believe that positive energy, when shared with others, is always felt. And, in a way that is quite mesmerizing, that same energy often finds its way back to you in unexpected ways.

Intuitively, you wouldn’t think that spending extra hours to plan, design, and refine tutorials for a class of 25 would necessarily lead to anything beyond the moment itself. But I urge people to think differently. Positivity and kindness can never hurt; they can only help. That energy benefits not only the person receiving it, but also the person giving it. It builds over time, often in ways you do not see right away. It returns to you through people, timing, and impact you never could have planned for. Compassion and sharing excitement for someone’s day will almost always serve to brighten both theirs and yours. So, offer an extra smile and extend some extra kindness. It costs you nothing, but to someone else, it might mean everything. Trust me on this one.