Impostor Syndrome in Academia

 

 Impostor Syndrome in Academia

    There I have spent five years in academia without doing a single written in-person assessment during either my undergraduate or postgraduate studies. In many cases—certainly not through any fault of my own, but rather due to the highly competitive environment—I have often felt like an impostor. Sometimes it’s just a microexpression, or the way someone asks a question, that can make me feel so overwhelmed that I’m unable to give a proper answer.

Fortunately, I’ve heard that written in-person assessments might return to the School. I believe this could help resolve these awkward situations. Honestly, I don’t think it’s anyone’s fault directly; it’s natural to feel suspicious or even slightly offended, especially when the assessment system doesn’t really allow you to demonstrate your abilities. Personally, I would be more than happy to participate in in-person assessments. In fact, I have always done everything within my power to show my academic progress—putting great effort into the presentations I’ve given, and also applying for extra-disciplinary opportunities like the undergraduate BPS conference and the postgraduate interdisciplinary event, both of which I took part in. I was also selected for another conference in Ireland, though unfortunately, I couldn’t attend.

I know my presentations weren’t perfect, but for me it is both essential and meaningful to show my academic development to an audience. I also understand that speaking confidently in front of others comes with practice—which is why I’ve been eager to seize every opportunity to develop these skills.

Speaking constructively, I truly believe the School of Psychology is on the right track if it brings back written in-person exams and assessments. This change could help reduce these awkward situations, which can unintentionally undermine trust between staff and students.

Toni Font, Aberdeen 04/07/2025

Beyond the Threshold: Finding My Own Academic Voice

 

Beyond the Threshold: Finding My Own Academic Voice 

    There are countless ways to explain an idea. During undergraduate studies, feedback often pushes us to explore these different rhythms and intensities of explanation. It can be overwhelming—and at times, deeply frustrating—to wonder whether our approach fits the established academic norms. Being forced out of our comfort zone feels uncomfortable, even discouraging. Yet paradoxically, it’s in those very moments that we learn the most: we discover that the same concept can be expressed from many different angles, each revealing something new.

The perspective widens even further at the postgraduate stage, especially when we have the chance to provide feedback on undergraduate work ourselves. It’s then that I truly appreciated the richness of academic expression. Sometimes, a few exceptional pieces cross your desk—essays so precise, so creative, and so effective that they leave you in awe. You realize, perhaps for the first time, that ideas can be conveyed more powerfully and beautifully than you ever imagined, raising the bar of what you thought was possible.

But the real transformation happens gradually. In postgraduate life, there’s more freedom to develop your own voice. Once you’ve mastered the foundational, canonical ways of presenting ideas, you earn the space to move beyond them. Explanation becomes less about conforming to a template and more about finding the words and structures that feel truest and most effective to you. It’s about expressing complex thoughts in a way that remains rigorous but is also authentically yours.

This process only works if the academic environment nurtures it—if students are given constructive feedback that builds skills rather than just measuring them. When that happens, it becomes our responsibility to take those tools and use them creatively, moving from external, formulaic explanations to explanations that come from within. It’s a shift from speaking in borrowed voices to speaking in our own.

And that’s when it all makes sense: the frustration, the challenges, the breakthroughs. Each step pushes us past another threshold—until we finally realize that what once felt like limitation was actually the start of genuine freedom to think, write, and explain as ourselves.

Toni Font, Aberdeen 29/06/2025

Echoes of the Self: Identity and Morality Within Dreams

 

Echoes of the Self: Identity and Morality Within Dreams

    Dreams remain an enigmatic and fascinating phenomenon in the study of consciousness. They are an endless topic of inquiry: what exactly are dreams? Why do they sometimes appear vividly and with great detail, while at other times they seem fragmented or are barely remembered at all? Are dreams simply random cognitive processes intensified during sleep, when conscious control of the mind is diminished?

One notable case in sleep research is the 1964 experiment conducted by Randy Gardner, who voluntarily remained awake for 11 consecutive days. This case provided compelling evidence for the necessity of sleep in maintaining both cognitive and physical functioning. Gardner’s condition deteriorated as the experiment progressed—he experienced memory lapses, mood disturbances, and significant impairments in motor coordination. These symptoms support the idea that sleep acts as a restorative process for the body and mind. Extended wakefulness appears to disrupt the system, reinforcing the need for cycles of rest in order to regain optimal functioning.

Metaphorically, sleep—and dreaming—may be viewed as a form of transgression, a step outside the bounds of our waking rationality. Much like certain aspects of life where moments of disruption can foster creativity and insight, dreams may offer a space where the unconscious mind explores scenarios without immediate consequence. Yet, even in dreams, the self remains intact.

On a personal note, I have occasionally experienced vivid dreams in which I was aware of dreaming—a state often referred to as lucid dreaming. During these episodes, I attempted to act freely within the dream, including considering actions I would never undertake in waking life, purely out of curiosity. Interestingly, even within the dream state, I found myself restrained by my moral values; I was unable to perform actions that conflicted with my sense of ethics. This suggests that even in the absence of real-world consequences, our core identity and values persist and influence behavior.

Beyond the anecdotal, I am someone who often reflects on the possible meanings of dreams—when I can remember them. I find value in analyzing their content, searching for symbols or messages that might offer insight or guidance. Regardless of whether these interpretations are scientifically grounded, I believe that dreams have personal significance and deserve attention and care.

Toni Font, Aberdeen 21/06/2025