8 Study Tips For Students In High School, University, or College

by Helena Nikitopoulos ​for The 44 North

Youth Editor & Contributing Writer

Contributing Writer Helena Nikitopoulos is currently writing a novel titled, "Guide to Being Single in Your Twenties," where she addresses all the things people can do to fully embrace their 20s when single. Stay tuned for more information at her Instagram @helenanikitop or @wordsbyhelena.

A student studying in a library

"Teachers are there to help you, they are there to make sure you feel comfortable with the study material. If you feel embarrassed asking your teacher or professor questions, remember that many other students might have the same questions as you. It shows bravery and initiative to ask questions."

As someone who has a learning disability, studying did not always come easy to me. I often struggled knowing where to start, especially if I had an upcoming test or quiz to study for. Over the years, however, I learned how to organize myself in a way that made studying less overwhelming and more enjoyable. Whether that was finding a café to work in or an accountability partner, studying gradually turned into a moment (or several moments) of satisfaction and productivity. If you also struggle with knowing where or how to start studying, try the eight study tips listed below. 

1. Find a fun study playlist. My personal favourites are: Mood Booster or Epic Drops. If you can’t focus when there are words in the song, try Classical Piano Music. If you like upbeat music with no words, try Work Focus - EDM. If white noise or people talking in the background helps you, try Coffee Shop Background Noise for Studying. 
   

2. Try switching up your study space. If you are constantly in your room studying, your room no longer becomes your safe haven from school, but it constantly reminds you that Karl Marx was a communist or that y= mx+b (or whatever they teach you in math these days). Instead, study on campus or if you don’t have a campus to study on, study at a local café or a library and use the busy background noise as white noise for your studying.
   

3. Work with other people around you! If your friend(s) is busy, go to a semi-busy space by yourself. If there are other people working or studying just like you, it may motivate you to get things done. I always think: if they can do it so can I. 
   

4. Make sure your notes are easily accessible: try to number off your pages to keep them in order. You can also try colour coding your notes so that they align with each unit or each subject. If there are 4 units you need to study for, make every unit a different colour. If there are terms that you need to review more, write or underline them in red so you can come back to them. Use sticky notes as bookmarks to section off your notes. You will never want to return to your notes if they are difficult to understand so if typing out your notes will make it easier to read, go for it. At the end of the day, everyone organizes themselves differently. What matters most is that you can understand and access your notes easily. 
   

5. Always plan out your study schedule. If your test is on four units and starts November 12, start studying for it October 28 so you can dedicate October 30 - November 1 to unit one, November 2-4 to unit two, November 5-7 to unit three, November 8-10 to unit four, and use November 10-11 as a review session for all of the units. Suddenly four units becomes four chunks, each block dedicated to one unit. Thus, when you space and plan things out, studying becomes less overbearing and more doable.
   

6. Prioritize. If unit 3 is the hardest unit, start with reviewing that unit and then move on to the others. This goes for social activities as well. For example, if there is a huge party coming up on the weekend, decide if studying for your unit test will benefit you more in the long run. Perhaps you can use going to the party as your reward for getting units one and two done that week. Always choose what will make you less stressed in the long run. In addition, set a timer for 30 minutes. Focus for those 30 minutes and then when the timer goes off, give yourself a break (e.g., watch a video of a cute animal or listen to a talk show like Family Feud). 
   

7. Always ask questions and seek help. Teachers are there to help you, they are there to make sure you feel comfortable with the study material. If you feel embarrassed asking your teacher or professor questions, remember that many other students might have the same questions as you. It shows bravery and initiative to ask questions (while also preparing you for your upcoming test). Moreover, studies have shown, such as Samoza, Sugay, Arellano, and Custodio’s study, An Evaluation of the Effect of Various Voice Qualities on Memory Retention, that students are more likely to recall class material by remembering their professor’s voice on the test. Thus, by paying attention in class and visiting office hours, on one time with your professor will help you remember critical information for your test.  
   

8. If you are a visual learner (or even if you aren’t), watch a YouTube or Khan Academy video explaining concepts that you struggle with. Lessons are often taught using a white board or a visual form of some kind. In addition, there are badges or awards you can win that will help motivate you to complete more lessons!

Artist Spotlight: Bob Cole & Modern Music Studio

by Mikaela Brewer, ​for The 44 North

Senior Editor

A bright yellow Modern Music Studio logo with black letters

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“We see it time and time again in our studio. The kids who come to see us often have this perception that music is magic, that it can’t be understood. Learning about melody and harmony, chord progressions, and just how simple the construction of their favourite music is, a lot of the time, helps to break down that mysticism, making learning the language of music more accessible. ”

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Editor's Note: I had the absolute privilege of chatting all things learning music with Bob Cole, founder of Modern Music Studio—a community-focused group of musicians & teachers emphasizing student-directed lessons & learning as fun. Please enjoy our discussion!

Mikaela Brewer (MB): Modern Music Studio provides a space for everyone to “discover their musical passions on their own terms.” I love how this implies an inherent potential & possibility in a world that teaches us we can't approach music without ‘talent’. What does this mean to you? How have you seen this discovery happen at the studio?

Bob Cole (BC): This is a really important philosophy, or foundation of our studio. We truly believe that EVERYONE has music inside of them. Nothing irks me more than someone saying, “I wish I could play an instrument, but I just wasn’t born with it”. There is this myth that musicians are created at birth, and that truly isn't the case. We just have to find what music connects with you, and allow that music to flow through you. Anyone who loves music, anyone who loves to dance, anyone who loves to air drum or air guitar, anyone who lip syncs their favourite songs—truly, anyone can learn to play an instrument. 

We see it time and time again in our studio. The kids who come to see us often have this perception that music is magic, that it can’t be understood. Learning about melody and harmony, chord progressions, and just how simple the construction of their favourite music is, a lot of the time, helps to break down that mysticism, making learning the language of music more accessible. The adult students are a totally different case altogether. I’ve seen many adult students who wanted to learn an instrument but were unsure because they’d never done it before, or believed the “born with it” myth. Breaking down those barriers can be difficult; we all become a bit more stubborn in our older years. But for those who are willing to put in the work, stop believing the myth, and instead believe in the music inside of them, it can be tremendously rewarding (not just for them, but for us as well). We have students who came to us with no musical knowledge in their 50s and 60s and are now playing open mics or jams regularly around town. Watching students begin to believe in the music inside of them is perhaps our greatest source of joy. 

MB: On student leadership: because part of the magic is discovery, choosing an instrument, style, repertoire, and pace of learning offers creative control that's supportive for anyone, but perhaps especially for young people! Tell us more about what this looks like—what if a student doesn’t (yet) know what makes them special? 

BC: Such a great question. All of our instructors focus on positivity and building a love of music first and foremost. So the focus isn’t really on accomplishment (though that’s often a nice by-product), but on building a positive relationship with their creativity. It is a very vulnerable position that students put themselves in when they come to see us. We are asking them to share something that is a very personal connection: their personal taste in music. Initially, it can be difficult for them to share what it is about music they love. Our instructors are versatile and understanding in a way that makes kids feel comfortable and ready to share what music makes them feel special. We focus on positivity and listen to music through our students' lens to find their joy and help foster their connection to music in that moment. And it can often be in the least expected places! We have taught music from movies, video games, and even a radio jingle! Teaching songs that kids (and adults) recognize and connect with allows them to feel that connection and understand that what they love about music is distinct and unique to them alone. The benefits for self-esteem and confidence building with kids have been incredible to see. 

MB: On having fun: how have you seen the joy of growth/learning impacted—or maybe shifted from the way we think about learning at school—by empowering students to learn music they love?

BC: Fun is such an important part of learning in our view. By focusing on loving music first, we sort of create that carrot on the stick. The goal isn’t to learn ‘this’ scale so that you can play ‘this’ song. We teach it a bit backwards. We teach the song and then, once they’ve grown some confidence and connection to that piece, we start to show them maybe what scale it’s using, or what a score of that song looks like and how to read it, or perhaps how to transpose that song to another key so that it matches their voice. This resonates in a huge way with students. Not only can they learn their favourite songs, but they can start to understand the theory behind how these songs are constructed. By starting with fun, we sort of “trick” students into learning the nuts and bolts of music. So much of education is focused on learning a concept or a theory first, then it moves to how that theory is applied. Some educators came along and disrupted this idea (think Bill Nye or Mark Rober). They start with the application, then work backward to the theory. It’s a much more fun way to learn, in our opinion. The added benefit is that the student gets to choose the “application” (the song) that allows them to learn the theory, which makes them that much more engaged and connected to their learning. 

MB: On building community: we all know that tending connection is community care. Modern Music Studio has such a dedicated group of skilled, supportive teachers, but part of your goal is to connect students to their peers to learn songs together, form bands, and make friendships. The studio is located in a warm, cozy house in downtown Barrie, but what does community look like outside of sessions?

BC: We have so many students, for whatever reason, who seem to have difficulty fitting in with other walks of life, or difficulty with confidence in other areas. But when they walk through our doors, they get to feel like a rock star. And we’ve seen these kids’ confidence soar beyond our walls, to the performances we put on (Five Points Theatre, Aqua Theatre Orillia, and the Barrie Legion), and to the weekly jams we host. We’ve watched friendships grow and provided a sense of belonging for some kids who really needed it. As the years have gone on, we’ve watched kids graduate to university or college arts programs (one was even accepted to Harvard!). It's been super rewarding to help these kids find their footing and build their sense of belonging along the way. I think our approach—focusing on fun, encouraging a multi-instrumentalist approach, encouraging students to play music with their peers, to perform and to write and record songs—it’s given students a sense of belonging that maybe they didn’t have before they began lessons.

When I first had the idea for our studio, I wanted first and foremost for it to be a place where students who love music would find others like them and to bond over that love. I wanted to build a community of young musicians. The mutual passion for music we see in our students is incredible, and we love knowing that we’ve helped to create friendships and memories that will last a lifetime. 

MB: How can folks reading this spotlight support the musicians at Modern Music Studio—teachers & students alike?

BC: First and foremost, support the arts in our community in any way you can! The knock-on effects of that will benefit all of us who are trying to enrich our beautiful city through the creative arts. 

If you are interested in finding out more about music lessons with us, please go to modernmusicstudio.ca or email modernmusicbarrie@gmail.com to ask us any questions you might have. 

And finally, keep an eye out for all the amazing things our students and teachers are doing in our community, from working with at-risk or underprivileged youth (Glowing Hearts Charity, Orillia Youth Centre), to bi-annual performances at the Five Points Theatre and other venues around town, where you may find one of our students or teachers playing. We also have the amazing band Jupiter Hollow, who have members teaching with us, and then there is Sammy Johnston, who is an incredible blues/rock musician. Alondra Vega-Zaldivar is working as musical director this fall with the South Simcoe Theatre. And we have our choir starting up this spring that will be led by the incredibly talented Gillian Seaman. So look for their performances as well, and be sure to cheer super loud for our float at the Santa Claus parade in November! Follow us on Instagram and Facebook to keep track of all the cool things we are up to. And a vote for us in the Reader's Choice Awards in October would be really great too!

Short Story: Understanding the Consequences of Police in Schools

by Mikaela Brewer

A police officer in tactical gear walking through the front door of a building

The echinacea were still alive when the first bell of the school year rang. They’re also called coneflowers, and this is how my mother ensured we shared a name—that I carried her with me safely. Her name is Echina, mine is Connie. I didn’t understand, at first, why we didn’t have the same name. I both knew and didn’t in 2018, when the Toronto District School Board trustees voted to remove police officers stationed in their schools. But I see now, in September 2026, as I begin my senior year of high school. I was born in this country. My mother wasn’t. 

The last time we drove back from Mexico, during the summer of 2025, we’d talked about our fears surrounding the upcoming American and Canadian elections. Mid-topic, we passed a strip of coneflowers and mom, as always, adored an opportunity to talk about the flowers she so admired. She loved them so much that she gifted some to my high school, now rimmed in magenta, white, and yellow. 

“You know, echinacea are native to North America. They’re tough and sturdy and colourful. Resilient—surviving full sun, bad soil, and drought. They help the bees and butterflies, feed the birds, and boost our immunity. They even self-seed non-invasively. Do you know what I’m saying—”

“I know what you’re trying to say.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you make them sound like a perfect flower. Maybe they are. But we’re not perfect. And flowers can be ripped from the soil by their roots, no matter how hearty they are. That’s what Trump’s going to do. And it can surely happen in Canada, too.” 

Mom’s bony, ringed fingers slid down the steering wheel to eight and four. She took a loud breath that slumped her shoulders. “You don’t know what I’m saying because you didn’t let me finish.”

I regret it now, but at that moment, I shook my head and put my headphones in. She was right—I didn’t know what she wanted to say.

And here I am, waiting in a long line of students entering the school. Doorways doubled by scanners, tripled by police officers, and quadrupled by cameras. I remember my mother’s words, but I don’t yet know how to enact them. I’m terrified.

When I was nine, police roamed my elementary school grounds. But more than the coldness of the cops, I remember Mandy. Mandy with freckles, dimples, warm brown skin slightly darker than mine, and polished copper eyes. One of the first English words I could spell was penny, because I’d met Mandy in kindergarten and been in love with him since. I fight to remember him this way: Mandy, who smelled of his grandfather’s tobacco pipe when he kissed my cheek inside a dead tree trunk during recess.

But he was a troublemaker, always making things when we were supposed to be quiet and listening. A delinquent. A thief. His every move was watched, surveilled, and reprimanded in the halls. Detention for backtalk became suspension, and soon, arrests. So many frightening phone calls with the Canada Border Services Agency. A model of the school-to-prison pipeline. And it all started, from what I can remember, when he borrowed Jenny Barton’s glue stick and scissors without asking her. “What are you going to do with those?” they’d asked, fearfully. I know it started before that. Start isn’t the right word. What was cut up and flimsy as construction paper, to begin with, was his trust in adults. And I wasn’t enough to glue something so hurt back together—at least not faster than it shredded. 

Mandy’s in prison now, so I hear. Just shy of nineteen. I haven’t spoken to him since he was fourteen and I was thirteen. He disappeared from my life. And out of manufactured fear, I let him. 

I know peers, parents, and teachers who protested police in schools. I have friends who stopped coming to school because their parents and guardians are afraid of being reported to immigration officials, even though mom said the Education Act guarantees them an education regardless of status. But Mandy needed support. Not the police.

About midway through the lineup to enter the school, this old heartbreak snapped into panic. As nonchalantly as I could manage, I slipped out of line behind a portable and again behind the echinacea bushes. How else could I protect my mom? I put my headphones in and played two poems by Celia Martínez with my arms hugging my knees. I couldn’t stop my tears and heaved the still-humid air silently. 

[A moment to pause with Connie & watch/listen to Celia’s brilliant poems, linked here & here].

I slowly calmed, listening to Celia’s words. As I fought to figure out what to do next, vehicle headlights lit up my hiding spot magenta. There was a catwalk to a subdivision next to me, but these lights were too bright and close to be coming from the road. I sank further into the bushes, so afraid that it was some form of authority figure looking for me. But nobody would’ve known I was missing yet. It was only 7:53 and classes didn’t start until 8:15. 

A loud engine growl startled me, but it was turning off. A kickstand scraped the fence, thick-heeled boots hit the pavement, and headlights clicked off. 

It took my eyes a moment to adjust, finding focus on a yellow floral dress hugged by a red leather jacket. My mom was crouching in front of me. She smelled like fruit. 

I smeared my glittery white eyeshadow across my face trying to wipe tears away. “How did you know I was here?” I murmured, nearly incoherently.

Echina smiled and almost laughed as she sat down cross-legged beside me, out of view. “Your brothers and sisters hid here too.”

“But how did you know I’d be here today?”

“Moms know a lot of things. I had a feeling.”

“So you know why I didn’t go in.”

“I do. And I understand.” She took my hands in hers.

I swallowed, clearing my throat. “I know what you meant last summer. About coneflowers. About us.”

“Tell me.”

“It’s not about perfection. It’s about believing in ourselves. In our love and hope and joy.”

“Yes, it is. And so much more.”

I nodded, but she could tell I was waiting for her to expand on the ‘much more.’”

“There’s a story that I used to tell your father before he died. I haven’t told it since, but you need it now.” She shifted to face me. “There was once an echinacea flower who—”

“Mom, do you have any stories not about echinacea?” My face cracked a wet smile. 

Echina smirked. “Yes, but they’re not as good. Don’t interrupt.” She paused to paint a fresh layer of red lipstick, put the tube in her bra, and clapped her hands together softly. “So, there was once an echinacea flower who thought she couldn’t support the roots of the flowers around her unless she was completely filled—brimming with nourishment (this tale is inspired by the wonderful work of Christabel Mintah-Galloway, RN, BSN). She thought that she couldn’t give unless she was full. Gradually, the flowers around her began to die. And then, so did she. What mistake do you think she made?”

“We’re never fully or perfectly nourished. So she never helped.”

“Precisely.” Mom squeezed my hands and kissed them. 

“But I don’t understand. I do help.”

“You do. You always help me. But I tell you this little tale to say: almost always, even when we feel most alone and hopeless, there’s something we can do—especially something we can give. And we must keep giving and gifting so that others can do the same for us. We can’t sever that connection. All relationships are tended most lovingly this way; it’s how we keep making in every sense of the word—change, progress, love, art, each other, and the list continues.”

“But I’m so afraid to walk into that school now, mom. With all the police and surveillance. Why is it always us who have to give. So many people only extract. Even my school friends.”

“I know. I know, my love.” Mom hugged me. As she stroked my hair, she asked, “Is there someone who gave to you, who you once shared roots with—made with, maybe—who you could give back to today?”

“Aside from you?”

“Mhm.” She smiled appreciatively. 

It only took a moment to figure out who she was trying to get me to remember. And it was with his memory that I eventually walked into the school for my last first day.

***

That afternoon, I sat inside what felt like a particle board booth for standardized test-taking. There was a grey landline phone on the wall beside me, its coil nearly reaching the floor. This room of the county jail smelled of sweat, cheap coffee, and old paper. I looked down, picking at my purple nail polish. I don’t know what prompted me to look up, but when I did, I didn’t startle. I didn’t know how long he’d been sitting across from me, watching from the other side of the glass, with those same eyes. 

I stared back, my brow creasing involuntarily to mirror his. It’d been long enough for both of us to notice change, but not long enough to not recognize each other. He was thin, but stronger, and with black facial hair that suited him. 

Mandy picked up the phone on his side but my hand went to the glass, as if my palm could push through it to reach his cheek. Keeping the phone to his ear, his head sunk, as if in shame. Afraid he’d leave I quickly picked up the phone. 

“Mandy. Don’t go.”

He looked up. His eyes were kind, but it almost looked uncomfortable for them to soften. As if softness was the only muscle he hadn’t trained since I last saw him, chiselled now in more ways than one. He started to speak but stopped and pressed chapped lips together. 

“It’s me. C—”

“Connie.”

I nodded, unsure why I thought he wouldn’t remember.

“Thought I’d never see you again.” His voice was like gravel. 

I smiled and nodded. 

“Why did you come?” There was a sternness now. 

I took a deep breath and looked down for a moment to gather myself. He thought I was patronizing him.

“If it takes that long to say I—”

“No, wait.” I snapped my head up. “My mom told me a story. And I wanted to tell you about it.” 

“You want to tell me a story?”

“It’s about us. About what we can make.”

“Us?” There was a slight momentum in Mandy’s voice that gripped my heart. The wit that once made much of what he said sound like a wink. I’d missed it so much. 

“Don’t you want to hear it?” 

“Well, what are we going to make?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Then how are we going to make it?”

“Together.” 

He grinned, and I couldn’t help but beam back. 

We truly hadn’t said much of substance. I didn’t yet know why he was here, nor how we could make anything, let alone make anything happen or change in our corner of the world. He didn’t yet know what I’d been doing for five years. But a shared fight within the two of us found its reflection. 

Mandy kept smiling. It was a disarming, determined smile, with an undercurrent that I recognized. My cheeks warmed, realizing my hand was still on the glass. I was about to move it when he reached up and pressed his palm to mine. The sweat from our palms ran down the pane like tears.