For as long as I can remember, fall has been my favourite season. I’ve always thought this was due to the weather having a perfect balance between warmth and coldness. But recently, I came across a Buzzfeed quiz, entitled “How Much Do You Love Fall?”. Although the questions were generic and did not encapsulate all the aspects and indicators, I unsurprisingly got a 23/25 or 92%. I found myself questioning the genuine reasons behind my obsession for fall. I realized that it was the small details of the fall season that I truly appreciated and was grateful for.

If you love fall, there's nothing like the sound of leaves crinkling and breaking underneath your shoes. It's a sound and a feeling I don't think I've ever grown tired of, no matter how many times I've heard or felt it. In fact, I seek it out. If I can walk through a cluster of leaves or around it, I almost always walk through them, doing my best to crunch as much as possible. It also allows me to reminisce over my childhood jumping in piles of leaves.

Another aspect of fall that I genuinely love is fashion. I know it is a bit materialistic, but I must admit that I love fall’s fashion. The warmth allows me to dress without any limitations unlike the cold Canadian climate in the winter. There is a beauty of finding sweaters and scarves and matching fabric colors with fall leaves. It allows you to experiment with new ideas, which is something that I truly enjoy.

Finally, fall, whether you like it or not, is all about change. The season is changing. The weather is changing. Though many people think of the New Year as a time for change, a time to make resolutions, I've always thought of this warm season as a great time to change things up. I guess this comes from the fact that, as a kid, fall is the new school year. After years of getting used to the idea that things would be new in September, for me, fall is engraved as a time for new beginnings. It is one of the most wonderful things about this time of year. In my final year as an S6, I am very excited for the change that this season will bring and new beginnings for good memories.

The document on my computer screen’s blank, the cursor on my page disappearing and reappearing as though it’s mocking me. Just like my ideas, the little black line will appear for a split second before disappearing out of sight, out of my mind, over and over. Just as I think I’m about to put something down my brain, and my document, goes blank.

My paper has been like this for the past week, the past several weeks actually. No matter how many times I try to start writing something I get distracted by a notification popping up on my screen, an unanswered email, or some other more pressing piece of homework that I have ignored until the last minute.

It’s been like this since school started, and until recently I chalked up my lack of motivation to procrastination. Pushing down an assignment down on my list of priorities until the night before it’s due, then rushing to start -- and finish -- it in a flurry of typing and just a little complaining.

I used to pride myself on my procrastination, wearing it like some kind of badge of honour. I’d sit back in my seat as my teacher handed back my rubric, smirking to myself like I’d just pulled off some grand plan. There’s an unparalleled satisfaction in creating an entire 2500 word essay while in a caffeine-induced extravaganza at 1 in the morning. The fact that I was the only one who knew only added to my glee. I was certain my teachers didn’t know; surely they thought after school I’d go home brainstorming arguments instead of scrolling through TikTok until my eyes glazed over. Now that I think about it, I’m sure they could tell, and maybe my secret wasn’t as well kept as I believed.

It was never that I disliked my work or my courses. Once I finally sat down to write out my essay or finish a set of calculus problems, I’d find myself spiralling down a rabbit hole of my own inquiries. Internally, I’d kick myself for not starting earlier and having the time to savour the nuanced arguments of the remnants of colonialism on food insecurity in the Horn of Africa. Next time I would not leave it until the last minute. Next time, I’d actually write multiple drafts instead of completing my first and final one before going back to make copies riddled with reworded sentences littered with grammatical errors and poor structure. But nothing ever changed, and in a self-destructive cycle of poor time management and an overcrowded schedule, I’d leave everything until the last minute until I couldn’t help but do it. Assignments became more like a box to check off rather than an opportunity to learn something new.

But this year, procrastination feels different. Since the beginning of September, I’ve been plagued with the thoughts that nothing in school is really worth it, and I’ve transcended the stress that used to accompany fast-approaching deadlines. Subjects that used to draw me in, classes that I used to look forward to attending suddenly feel more like a chore than an opportunity.

It’s not that I think none of my work matters, quite the opposite actually. I’ve been told over and over that my grade 12 marks matter the most, that the classes I am taking are supposed to prepare me for the material and rigour of the subsequent four years. I care about my work more than ever before, and yet I can’t find it in me to do any of it.

I’m in my final year of high school, wasn’t this supposed to be the best year? The year where I finally had the tools to balance my course work with extracurriculars while still taking in every moment and experience as my teenage years flicker away? I’m taking classes that have piqued my interest more than ever before, but the excitement I expected to feel as a senior has been replaced by overwhelming exhaustion.

I’ve spent my entire high school career checking off boxes, trying to learn everything while understanding and internalizing nothing. All those times I proudly completed my assignment the night before it was due, I don’t think I really made any effort to learn anything. Rather, I crammed as much information as I could into my brain, and onto my paper in a short span of time before cleaning out my mind to allow for the next cram session. Maybe my procrastination hasn’t been helping me as much as I thought; maybe I shouldn’t be so proud of it.

Making sure that everything is done on time is crucial, and it’s not that I’m saying that I, or anyone, should ignore a deadline for the sake of gaining a deeper understanding of the lessons being taught. It’s just that, no matter how much you like a unit or subject if you’re just doing an assignment for the sake of checking off a box you’re going to get bored. You’re going to get burnt out, and by the time senior year rolls around you’re going to be a shell of a person counting down the days until you get out of high school and the word “summative” no longer causes you to shudder so aggressively. If you’re not going to try to enjoy any part of what you’re doing, then what’s the point of even doing it?

For years I’ve been trying to complete everything on my to-do list before the deadline, never really trying to think about what I was doing, or what my work was supposed to teach me. It isn’t until I’ve become so ambivalent towards my courses that I’ve realized how wrong that is. In viewing the purpose of my work so narrowly, I’ve closed myself off to any sort of fulfillment. It’s not the workload that has held me down, but rather my perspective towards it.

If I’m being real, it’s unlikely that I’m going to stop procrastinating completely. You’ll still find me panicking the period before a class to cram every bit of knowledge into my brain before a test, or staying up late into the night piecing together the paper I’ve been ignoring for the past three weeks. But I think it’s time I adopted a new frame of mind. My projects should no longer just be something that leads me towards earning a credit or part of a number on my transcript. My work stops being just something that needs to be completed, but something I actually enjoy.

My page isn’t blank anymore, instead, it’s riddled with ideas and comments about ideas to elaborate on or words to change. But it wasn’t the impending deadline that gave me the ability to write. It’s reminding myself that the work I’m doing is something I want to do, not something that has to be done. It’s thinking about what I am saying instead of just trying to fill my page with enough word-vomit to meet the character count. I’m still checking off the boxes, plugging away at each essay and problem sheet until it’s complete. Now though, I’m trying to understand the work I do, drawing connections and expanding upon my ideas instead of regurgitating the key points I encounter. And the motivation I thought I had lost for good has started creeping back.

In the 1960s, John Maynard Keynes, one of the greatest economists in history envisioned a world unlike his own. He predicted a third industrial revolution where technology would render nearly all of human work obsolete, fifteen hour work weeks would be the norm, play would be interchanged for work and leisure would be accessible to all (Harford 2016).

Decades later, Keynes' famed prophecy has only become half true. Per his predictions, technological innovation has fundamentally transformed our economy and powered unprecedented productivity. However, while the world’s per-capita gross domestic product has increased 200 times in the past two centuries, the luxury of leisure is even more out of reach. New technologies and the glorification of workaholic culture have led to the extinction of leisure. Governments must implement the right-to-disconnect which more strictly enforces work-life balance.

It may appear counterintuitive that humans are overworking when technology has increased efficiency dramatically and now aids with a great number of formerly human-led tasks. Yet closer examination of the changing nature of the the economy, increasing inequality and the capacities of technology itself reveal why leisure is but an elusive goal for most.

Though gross domestic product (GDP) has steadily increased over time, this metric at face value does not account for the distribution of wealth (Pilling 94). As the wealth of the top 1% has grown exponentially, median wages in the United States and other developed countries have actually stalled for as long as since the 1970s (Desilver 2018). The reduction of weekly work hours for the middle to low income class stagnated as household incomes did as well. The majority of the working class still longs for the “American Dream” in a consumerist society where the pursuit of wealth and socioeconomic mobility is seen as the exclusive pathway to a happy lifestyle.

The wealthy experience similar pressures towards overworking too, albeit driven by different reasons. According to Layard, “one counteractable human foible is the search for status, something that research tells us is wired into our genes” (Pilling 209). In a new economy which prizes knowledge and human capital, busyness has become the new “status symbol”, according to Columbia Business School professor Silvia Bellezza. While in the 1960s, leisure was a privilege afforded to the wealthiest, in today’s competitive modern economy, the best and brightest are also the busiest. Instead of owning scarce material items, status is reflected in the scarcity of our own human capital. Competition and overworking are endemic to high paying industries such as technology and finance which always strive to innovate and surpass other competitors. Consequently, a damaging workaholic culture has pervaded countries around the world, most notably in Japan where “death by overwork” or karōshi has become an official term and the United States, where employees work 500 more hours per year than their European counterparts (Gilson 2011). Furthermore, the financial insecurity and volatility of the job market today mean that even those with high level positions constantly feel the need to prove their worth to their employer. The elite have enjoyed the great income increases predicted by Keynes but little gains in leisure time.

Technology has been both a boon and a curse to this trend. Although it has expanded our realm for recreation through thrilling new games and social media platforms, digital applications and devices have ushered in a new era of connectivity without bounds. Overworking extends beyond the physical workplace. With long email chains and the advent of workplace messaging applications like Slack, work no longer ends at the conventional 5 pm mark. According to a Massachusetts Institute of Technology study, the average worker checks their email 77 times a day and many do so within the first minutes of waking up (Mark 2016). The human brain is wired to enjoy completing small, simple tasks and email is one of those. In some of the most advanced economies around the globe, dinners are eaten to the sound of perpetually pinging phones, crimson sunsets outside are obscured by the glow of a computer screen inside and the last few hours before bed are filled with aimless email scrolling.

While initially responding to a few emails feels productive, it is impossible to keep an empty inbox for long. The result is increased stress and worry. Studies published in the U.S. National Library of Medicine demonstrated how those who responded to work-related messages after work hours had poor sleep, were less engaged the following day and were less productive. When employees are spending an average of 8 hours weekly on email after work hours these harms compound.

To respond to these new cultural trends, the right-to-disconnect legislation has become ever more imperative. Already implemented in France, Italy and New York, this type of legislation enshrines the right of employees not to engage with work-related communication after their paid hours. Domestic support for this type of bill is high, though it is not without its critics. According to Howard Levitt from Levitt LLP, the right-to-disconnect is an unsuitable, “one-size fits all” solution which could have a “debilitating impact on Canadian employers, particularly those which compete internationally since they may be required to respond in different time zones” (Fong 2018). This common counterclaim ignores the flexibility of the bill. Iterations of the bill may differ across industry and even country, according to the applicable stakeholder’s specific needs. For example, in France, where the legislation was first created, all companies in the nation with more than 50 employees must negotiate with their employees about guidelines about work after hours. Their policy is not a blanket one which enforces shut-downs of servers across the nation, but rather one which is flexible to individual companies. While some companies may choose to ban email communication after a set time in the evening, other companies may only have employees in certain departments available.

On the other hand, some such as Forbes writer Pascal-Emmanuel Gobrey argue that the solution is inadequate “in a meritocratic, high-tech world [where] people are always going to be driven to try to out-compete everyone else by putting in insane hours.” According to Gobrey, “what's needed is not a legal change, but a cultural change, whereby managers and CEOs recognize themselves as stewards of their workers' productivity and enablers of their balanced life. This is much harder than merely passing a law.”

Although it is true that implementing the right-to-disconnect legislation is not the sole solution, the role of the government is to encourage that progress to begin with legislation. Without government intervention, it is very difficult for employees and employers to self-regulate. This issue is both self-driven and perpetuated by workplace pressures, particularly in the technology and finance industries where companies compete to be at the cutting edge of innovation. Compared to the production-based economy of decades past, today’s modern knowledge-based economy has made it increasingly more difficult for employees to quantify employee’s contributions. Employees now have to rely on hours logged, quantity of emails or presence online and after hours as metrics for dedication (Moodie 2016).

This has catalyzed society’s infatuation with productivity, with a cult-like culture of time-management experts, life hack specialists, productivity coaches and mobile applications galore designed to restrain individual’s worst procrastinating tendencies. Given these natural competitive inclinations, change must come from a top-down process. Furthermore, not all employees are fortunate to work in a company that realizes that the true way to maximize growth is to maintain the health and wellbeing of employees. Employer and employee perceptions of workplace pressures are often misaligned. According to a 2017 study conducted in the Employee Engagement Series by Kronos Incorporated and Future Workplace, many companies are not even cognizant of the extent of burnout in their company. In the study of over 614 human resources leads, 67% said that they think their employees have a balanced life, while approximately half of their employees disagree. Legal enforcement addresses the gaps in understanding and the collective action problem where no employee wants to be the one seeking out work-life balance at the jeopardy of their career advancement opportunities.

All in all, the right to disconnect legislation is critical in a modern economy where social norms and profit incentives dictate the everyday lives of overworked employees. Only when we step away from the cold, perfectionist calculations of productivity can we embrace true work, creativity and play. It is about time that society welcomes the mentality of working hard and playing hard.

Works Cited