I’m newly 19—freshly minted as legal, armed with an ID, and ready to dip my toes into the glittering chaos of adulthood.

With this card, I have access to clubs, bars, and a world I’ve been eyeing for years, imagining freedom, excitement, and maybe a touch of rebellion.

Tonight I’m standing in line at the Old City Station Pub—my first club, though calling it that is generous. The bouncer takes my ID, scans it, and gives me the obligatory once-over. Then they squint at the card and ask, “Hannesson… any relation to Darren Hannesson?”

And just like that, my grand debut into adulthood is co-opted by my father’s shadow. I nod, because what else is there to do?

Inside, I try to embrace the moment, swaying to the bass-heavy rhythm on the dance floor. Two guys approach—standard fare; a little banter and flirting never hurt anyone. I give my Instagram but they pause at my last name. “Hannesson? Are you Darren Hannesson’s daughter? We had him for a class.”

And there it is again. I think these guys thought it was a flirt, but my newly 19 self was not having this.

I nod once more, this time with a wry smile, wondering how Darren Hannesson managed to hijack my first-ever club flirtation.

Darren: 2
Ella: 0

Here’s the thing. I have no ambition to be famous, no burning desire to have my name instantly recognized. But living in a city with limited entertainment options for university students means one inconvenient truth: everyone knows your dad better than they know you.

For most people, university symbolizes newfound independence—the fabled ‘flying the nest’.

It’s a time to step boldly (or, let’s be honest, awkwardly) into adulthood, embracing freedom, responsibility, and the sweet, sweet absence of parents monitoring your every move.

For me, though, university has been the exact opposite.

I grew up in Nanaimo where both my parents work as professors at Vancouver Island University. When my older sister—who I idolize like she personally invented success—chose VIU, it was a foregone conclusion that I’d follow suit two years later.

It wasn’t exactly a tough decision.

As professors, my parents were constantly singing the praises of an intimate learning environment where students and professors actually know each other. That sounded nice, sure. But let’s be real; what really sealed the deal? The savings.

To every student reading this: you get it. Living at home during university isn’t just about scoring home-cooked meals and avoiding coin-operated laundry—it’s a financial power move. With students shelling out anywhere from $1k to $3k a month on rent, utilities, food, transportation, and health insurance, living with family means dramatically slashing those expenses.

Similarly, an Embark survey revealed that 88 percent of Canadian parents faced higher expenses in 2024, with household spending spiking by an average of $12k. The result? Over half fell behind on general savings and nearly half are struggling to save for their children’s education. With financial pressure mounting, it’s no wonder students like me are choosing local universities and sticking close to home to lighten the load.

But let’s not crack open the can of worms that is the unreasonable cost of living—because trust me, no one needs that kind of headache right now.

So, given VIU’s already affordable tuition compared to other universities, plus the prospect of saving on rent and expenses, my choice was a no-brainer. I could practically hear my mom’s grin as she realized she’d just extended her nest’s occupancy rate for another four years.

Although, now that those four years are up, I’m pretty sure she and my dad are counting down the days until I finally move out.

Trust that I never hesitate to remind them that they wanted this.

One by one, my parents convinced my sister, me, and eventually my brother to enroll at VIU.

I pictured all the money I’d save and all the exciting, transformative experiences I’d have as I finally left the purgatory that was high school.

But you know what I didn’t picture? My parents becoming an even bigger part of my life. I know that this may seem obvious in hindsight, but in my head, university meant complete freedom from the shackles of my parents.

Now the five of us weren’t only living together—we were going to school together.

Picture this: it’s your first year of university, and you’re nervously walking to class trying to blend in, when you spot your mom casually sitting at the campus Starbucks. Jarring, right?

Now imagine taking your first semester class with your sister and in another having your dad as your professor. Welcome to my life at VIU.

Let me paint a picture of 18-year-old me. Fresh out of the cozy bubble of high school, I was a classic shy girlie—terrified, awkward, and doing my best to take up as little space as humanly possible.

I was still figuring out who I was, and the last thing I needed was extra attention.

And you know who knew I was shy already? My dad.

So there I was, sitting quietly in the back of my first university class when my dad—my professor—decided it was time for a little icebreaker. While calling attendance, he casually drops: “Somewhere in this room is my daughter.”

Thanks for that, Dad.

Cue every head swiveling around the classroom, eyes scanning for the professor’s undercover kid. I sank so deep into my seat I’m surprised I didn’t disappear entirely.

The mortifying spotlight had found me, and I hadn’t even raised my hand.

But the very fact that I was sitting in this classroom is but a testament to my parents’ influence.

Let’s just say that when your dad is both a professor and a psychologist, you grow up with a man who knows how to win an argument—logical, structured, and just biased enough to sway you. 

So, when it came time to choose my path at VIU, my dad delivered a pitch for psychology that was so coherent it could’ve been a TED Talk: employability, practicality, and a future filled with options. Sold.

Backing him up was my sister, Katrin, who at the time was on the fast track to med school and made psychology sound pretty good.

Honestly, I’ve been following her lead my whole life—she’s basically my walking, talking “big buddy system”.

Remember that program from elementary school where older kids helped you survive the playground? Yeah, it’s like that, but for university.

Katrin Hannesson was my personal university survival guide. She taught me the best study spots, landed me a volunteer gig in the psych lab, and gave me the ultimate lowdown on surviving VIU.

She even got me the interview for this very job. If there’s a sister-of-the-year award, hand it to her already.

Here’s to you, Katrin Hannesson—queen of sibling mentorship and the reason I didn’t completely flail my way through first year. 

Honestly, every university student deserves a Katrin, but sorry, mine’s taken.

As much as I sometimes hate to admit it, having my parents around hasn’t been all bad either.

Taking stock four years later, going to school with your family isn’t quite so mortifying as it was at 19. In fact, despite my complaints about embarrassing moments, there’s quite a few perks to being a self-proclaimed VIU nepo baby.

My mom gave me the key to her office, which has become my personal sanctuary. It’s the ultimate private study space—quiet, cozy, and best of all, no advance bookings required.

Even though I sometimes feel like too many people I meet have met my dad—though, to be fair, he teaches one of the most popular intro courses in the Bachelor of Arts/Bachelor of Science—I can’t complain.

His Rate My Prof reviews are a mix of “life-changing” and “should be a stand-up comedian,” so I guess I’ll let him have his fame for now. Just don’t ask me how many times I’ve had to hear the ‘You’re the professor’s kid?’ line.

Or worse, when you spot your baby picture making a surprise cameo in a university-level lecture—yes, I know, that truly is a nightmare come true.

And, I’ve saved the best perk for last. Prepare yourselves—this one’s a humble brag, but I make no apologies.

The greatest treasure bestowed upon me by having parents who are VIU staff? The sacred staff parking spots.

For four years, I’ve avoided fighting for parking, or worse—the perilous journey through the treacherous lands of Economy Parking. Never have I been forced to embark on the dreaded pilgrimage from its distant, shadowy depths to the fabled biology building.

Truly, this is a feat few can claim. So thanks, Mom and Dad—I owe you big.

Living at home might not be everyone’s ideal university experience, but for me it’s been a mix of awkward, unexpected, and surprisingly rewarding.

~

Even now, as I near graduation, I’m still figuring out how to carve my own space while living in the shadow of my family.

I suppose in the end, my parents were right: university wasn’t about escaping them—it was about growing with them.

Throughout my years at VIU, I’ve occasionally felt a pang of embarrassment when admitting I still live with my parents—like somehow my continued dependence on them is a social faux pas.

I’d crack jokes about saving money or how desperate I am to escape, but the truth is, I’ve become profoundly aware of how lucky I am to share such a healthy, grounded relationship with my family in my early 20s.

And as much as I like to fantasize about finding my ideal roommates on Facebook Marketplace, I know my mom, dad, brother, and sister are the best housemates I could ask for—flaws and all.

So, while being “Darren Hannesson’s daughter” might make me cringe in the moment, I know it’s a sign of my parents’ love and the positive influence they’ve had on my life.

Because you know what? I am Teresa and Darren Hannesson’s daughter.

Besides, someday when I’m miles away from Nanaimo, I’ll probably miss bumping into my mom at Starbucks or being out in public and having someone ask me about my dad.

It’s taken me some time to realize that true distance isn’t about creating physical space between yourself and the people who love you—it’s about learning to stand on your own no matter where you are.

That’s a lesson I couldn’t have learned anywhere else.