After 2 years, I’m finishing up my education master’s in Educational Psychology in Aug 2026. Then not even 1 month later in Sep, I’m starting a new master’s in Social Work (MSW).
Nearly everyone was intrigued by my unique combination of degrees: CS, then education, and now social work. Then it’s usually followed by “So what do you want to do?”
At the start of my education degree, my answer was: I don’t know. Tuition is free as a university employee and I’m interested in learning more about education, so might as well take advantage of it. Then it slowly morphed into a growing interest in CS and AI education research. But that hit a dead-end when I experienced the tedious nuances.
Ultimately, I chose to pursue a MSW as a direct outcome of 1) learning education is a holistic human problem and 2) my own mental health journey.
1. Education is a holistic human problem
Then as I went through my classes, interacted with hundreds of students in my job, and talked to my post-grad friends, I realized that education best-practices were just the tip of the iceberg. But it doesn’t address the underlying problems. The AI cheating epidemic further solidified my point. I wrote more about that topic.
At its core, I began seeing education as a holistic human problem. It’s not a problem of how “well” we teach our students who come to class hiding their struggles behind a mask of fake smiles and a well-rehearsed “I’m doing fine.”
It’s not just about scaffolding the material for novices, making the content more interesting or relevant for students, or providing sufficient resources for student success.
Instead, I argue that education and student learning also needs to address, not intentionally ignore, the beautiful monsters that students hide behind closed doors.
Our beautiful monsters
I first heard the term “beautiful monster” during my burnout healing journey. Almost like fate, I randomly found the term in Goleman and Rinpoche’s Why We Meditate book.
“Beautiful monsters are patterns of reaction that are slightly or greatly distorted. For example, if we felt undervalued or underappreciated as a kid, we might overreact as an adult to ordinary criticism or blame. This overreaction is a beautiful monster.
Both parts of this phrase “beautiful monsters” are important. If we think of them as just monsters, we solidify our aversion and hatred toward them, which are really just parts of our own mind. If we think of them as just beautiful, however, we are denying the destructive potential they have and the suffering they can cause. It’s important to understand that they are both monsters and they have beauty.”
Some examples of beautiful monsters and how they could manifest in education:
- The second-year’s parent unexpectedly passed away over summer break and slipping into depression. They’re struggling to even get out of bed for class and continue to receive 0s for incomplete assignments.
- A student who was forced to become a doctor or engineer, in lieu of their true passion in music. In retaliation, they don’t care about learning and material and they’d rather take the easy-way-out by using AI to cheat on assignments.
- A grad student has undiagnosed ADHD. They struggle throughout their PhD program that has no strict deadlines and a less-than-supportive advisor. The question “what’s wrong with me” endlessly barrages their brain everyday and they eventually decide to drop out.
- A first-year is the first-in-their-family to attend university. They start to fall behind in their courses and suffer quietly out of fear of being judged and feeling “out of place” imposter syndrome.
These examples were inspired by actual conversations I’ve had with students.
In my own experience and after talking to hundreds of students, these beautiful monsters first appear as odd or inexplicable academic struggles, but they’re rooted in something deeper and unresolved. I want to help raise awareness to these invisible struggles that have direct impact on not only academics, but also our overall life.
2. But what about post-grad?
If left unresolved, these beautiful monsters continue most likely won’t disappear after graduation, sadly. They could morph and appear in different forms in the work environment.
My unresolved beautiful monsters plagued me in most of my 20s until they manifested as a terrible burnout, a depressive episode, and a megaphone wielding critic yelling at me every 5 minutes in my head.
At the prime age of 27, I knew something was wrong and I didn’t want to continue blindly going through life. In hindsight, I laugh at my motivation to start therapy to “get better as efficiently as possible”- my CS brain was showing a bit too much.
Although I initially started therapy with an interest in learning tactics to prevent another burnout episode, I ended up reluctantly opened the dark dungeon door to my past. My 3 year journey in therapy has been life changing and it’s taught me about myself in ways I never imagined.
Why tech?
Ultimately, I chose to pursue a MSW to support the mental health of people in tech. It combines my unique perspective from CS and education.
As I speak to more of my peers and friends, I worry the need for mental health resources in the wider industry will only continue creeping higher and higher. However, the industry also comes with its unique nuances.
For example, with the current AI boom, my network is grappling with a wide range of stressors:
- Dealing with lazy technical teammates who submit 1,000+ line PRs with clearly unreviewed AI written code
- The high stress rat race from upper management to avoid “falling behind” other competitors who’re also churning out AI code
- Unexpectedly spending more time on a task because a lead didn’t review the project proposals and meeting slides that AI wrote, which are full of inconsistencies and logical holes (aka sloppypasta)
- Living in fear of being laid off in the next unexpected layoff cycle
- Fighting to get a job in the current brutal employer’s market
These are all problems that currently go beyond any individual or company, and have no immediate or clear solution(s).
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