When unhappiness is not the endpoint, fostering justice through education

ABSTRACT

With a specific example from Norway and inspiration from Sara Ahmed’s The Promise of Happiness, this article demonstrates how today’s educational rhetoric lacks the language and will to recognise a key pedagogical dimension in education: what happens when the normative ambitions of education and students meet. At best, teaching students life skills to mitigate their mental health issues is naive. Inspired by Ahmed, such an initiative might actually work against its purpose. At a time when educational outcomes are emphasised in local and international political contexts, I argue that the task of philosophy of education should be 1) to reclaim the significance of the pedagogical dimension in education and 2) to philosophise on what negative emotions such as unhappiness require of education.

KEYWORDS:

• justice
• education
• life skills
• sara ahmed
• unhappiness

Introduction

Most people agree that we should strive for a just education and an education that promotes justice. However, the nature of schooling is that students will encounter academic and social expectations, and they will meet these to varying degrees. Thus, the school has a significantly differentiating function in society, for better or worse. Nevertheless, the question is how we can make school as fair as possible, academically and socially, for the students’ present and our collective future. Hence, how can we promote justice in, for and through education?

Norway has a long tradition with nationally adopted curricula, functioning as primary and secondary education guidelines. Accompanying the subject curricula is a core curriculum, which, according to the Norwegian Education Act, outlines the fundamental values of Norwegian education and its most important aims. With Norway’s latest curriculum renewal reform, The Subject Renewal (LK20), Life Skills and Public Health were introduced as an interdisciplinary topic in school as part of the core curriculum (Ministry of education and Research 2017).

However, the introduction of the topic was debated. Since the 1990s, mental health issues have increased for Norwegian children and young people (Bakken and Sletten 2016), and, in recent surveys, school-related stressors have been highlighted as contributors (Eriksen et al. 2017; Lillejord et al. 2017). Consequently, requests to include mental health in school have been raised (Elevorganisasjonen 2015; Kristiansen 2018). The topic was a welcome answer to this call (Madsen 2020) but was also criticised as unclear for practical implementation by schools and teachers, requiring them to interpret its boundaries. Critics raised questions about teachers’ competence to accomplish this interpretation and whether they had access to tools for teaching students these topics (Holte and Halstensen 2020). Moreover, they warned against the risk of arbitrary applications (ibid; Madsen 2020).

Addressing the increase in mental challenges for students is vital for educational justice, especially since schools may even contribute to the problem. Thus, how to deal with the situation arises, possibly by teaching life skills, as is now the case in Norway. Moreover, one may ask to what extent an education for life skills can foster justice. Hence, by discussing the education of life skills as a justice-promoting measure with this Norwegian example as a starting point, this article aims to contribute to the discussion of how to promote justice in, for and through education. Furthermore, Sara Ahmed (2010) is crucial to the discussion.

The article has three parts. First, I consider the background and the political intentions behind introducing the topic in the Norwegian curriculum, focusing on under-communicated normative premises for the introduction, namely the assumption that academic learning and development of specific socio-emotional competencies are related, as supported by the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD) and others. Life skills are presented in the curriculum as a competency goal, as something the students should achieve. Consequently, nothing is said about the pedagogical process on which it depends, and important dimensions disappear, which are essential for educational justice, and students’ mental health and emotional life. In the second part of the article, I examine some such dimensions, discussing them in light of the British feminist and cultural scholar Sara Ahmed and her book, The Promise of Happiness. In the third and final part, I show how Ahmed’s thinking illuminates a possible path for a philosophy of education concerned with justice, namely through unhappiness.

How to foster justice through education? An example from Norway

In Norway and other countries, today’s young people experience higher demands to enter the labour market than previous generations. Thus, the curriculum revision of teaching Life Skills and Public Health was justified on this premise, with the political ambition to update the school’s relevance for the future. ‘With The Subject Renewal, we give the school a value lift, and we make it easier for students to learn more and better. We will equip students for working life, but also for life itself,’ the former Norwegian Minister of Education said in a speech during a presentation of the new curriculum (Sanner 2019, my translation). Norway identify as egalitarian politically, with political and popular support for the idea of ‘a school for all’ (Blossing, Imsen, and Moos 2014), contributing to social equality. For example, Norway has a tradition of a relatively small degree of ability-based differentiation. This equality ideal backdrops the quote above. However, it is not evident what ‘a school for all’ actually means. Hence, this quote is mentionable for two reasons.

Firstly, it says a lot about the response of today’s politicians towards the challenges young people experience in the face of a demanding working life: There is nothing wrong with working life. Students must develop competence. Increased expectations of competence are not exclusive to Norwegian students. Nevertheless, what makes the Norwegian case interesting is that since the 1990s, this demand for increased competence has gone hand in hand with existing educational ideals of equality and educational justice (Lie In press). Therefore, the above quote illustrates a directional change that Norwegian schools took in the 1990s characterized by a greater focus on students’ knowledge and learning outcomes (Volckmar 2016). The transition from an industrial to a knowledge economy, which began a decade earlier, foreshadowed this transformation. From a justice viewpoint, however, it is interesting how the political ambition to increase student competency in Norway did not apply only to gifted students – it included everyone. The political ambitions of the 1990s, led by a Minister of Education from the Norwegian Labour Party, was to meet the knowledge society’s demands to raise students’ actual performances while addressing Norwegian schools’ two main motives: social integration and utility-oriented knowledge (Thuen 2017). An important motive was to avoid the risk of losing valuable resources: students with untapped potential (Volckmar 2016).

However, this approach was not an entirely new pace for the Norwegian welfare society. It extended several democratic reforms from the post-war period, which enabled higher education for far more people than before. As in other countries, the post-war educational revolution in Norway was long worthy of a celebration in light of democracy and justice, with women entering working life and many from the working class making ‘class trips.’ However, now, almost half a century later, a possible reverse of the celebration may be emerging in the form of a more meritocratic division of people. Higher education and competency have retained a high status, however increasingly appearing as something everyone must strive for to enter the labour market. Thus, the previous ambition of including everyone in the knowledge class – a democratically based project – may have contributed to a shift in what is considered normal or reasonable to expect from individual students. This outlook has increased pressure on students, apparently reflected by their increased mental health problems.

This discussion leads to the second reason why the quote from the former Norwegian Minister of Education is interesting. ‘Learning more and better’ is understood as a student’s way into working life, yet it is also believed to be the path to life itself, including its mental aspects. The introduction of life skills in the Norwegian curriculum clearly expresses this assumption. This is important for educational justice because it reveals some of the premises the Norwegian education system, and probably also others, are given today, and consequently what is often perceived as central in the political pursuit of justice. Thus, it may be useful to investigate the extent to which the introduction of life skills in the Norwegian curriculum can contribute to promoting justice.

Can life skills in school contribute to justice?

According to the Oxford Dictionary, a ‘skill’ is ‘the ability to do something well’ or ‘expertise,’ while a ‘life skill’ is ‘necessary or desirable for full participation in everyday life.’ Therefore, life skills suggest a preferred way of living to be mastered, with qualities learned or trained for. Striving to ensure everyone has access to a given knowledge or specific benefits, such as life skills, can be considered an educational task democratically rooted in the intention to avoid reproducing unfortunate differences based on class, ethnicity and language, often described as distributive justice.

However, justice is a complex phenomenon. According to philosopher of education Marianna Papastephanou (2021): ‘There is more to the concept of justice than what perspectives (considered alone or in their sum total) allow us to view’ (1). Papastephanou demonstrates how justice is taken for granted and under-theorised in a recent review of educational-philosophical articles. She not only claims that one perspective, focused on one side of educational justice, risks blinding other perspectives. Papastephanou problematises a perspectival approach as such. It fails to address the interconnection between different face(t)s of justice, she argues. Papastephanou advocates what she calls a ‘stereoscopic optics’ that aim to see several dimensions against each other. Papastephanou’s critique is inspiring. She raises an important while also challenging contribution to philosophy of education. A stereoscopic optics may provide a more comprehensive picture, however it presupposes a solid theoretical overview of the field for the analyst and readers. Consequently, the approach may make the knowledge less accessible.

Nevertheless, in this thorough treatment of educational justice, I miss a more comprehensive treatment of the second part of this two-sided concept, namely education. Philosophy of education concerned with justice in, for and through education must not forget that this second part – regardless of how one understands justice and combines education and justice – is crucial, especially when examining the normative premises for educational justice. This remembrance is necessary due to poor political preconditions for such recognition. Sara Ahmed actually provides a reminder of this, I would argue. This will later be addressed.

A revisit of the dictionary definition of ‘life skills’ we see that it provides a fairly generic description of the phenomenon in question. The definition does not address what these skills include, what ideas we have about what is ‘necessary’ or ‘desirable’ to master life, or to enable ‘full participation in everyday life.’ These ideas are normative. Consequently, they must be seen in the light of the society in which one grows up:

The school’s interdisciplinary topic health and life skills shall give the pupils competence which promotes sound physical and mental health, and which provides opportunities for making responsible life choices … Life skills refer to the ability to understand and influence factors that are important for mastering one’s own life. This topic shall help the pupils learn to deal with success and failure and personal and practical challenges in the best possible way (Ministry of education and Research 2017, 14).

This quote appears in the description of Life Skills and Public Health in the Norwegian curriculum. As previously mentioned, critics were particularly concerned with how the description provided vague instructions for pedagogical practice in Norway. Another reason the description is problematic is that it omits the normative premises on which it is based. Nevertheless, the fact that life skills are regarded as a ‘competence,’ emphasing mental health and on teaching students to ‘deal with success and failure,’ implies a foundation for normative ideals .

Normative premises underlying life skills

The ‘norm question,’ the question of what is desirable in education, can be examined in various ways: ethically, politically and scientifically. However, according to Danish philosopher of education Alexander von Oettingen (2010), it can also be investigated educationally. Oettingen aimed at a given tradition: bildung. Naturally, one can begin with literature from this rich tradition. Nevertheless, it may not be the tradition of bildung, which is the essential point. In my opinion, the important thing is what Hannah Arendt reminded us of in The Crisis in Education from 1954, namely that education is primarily aimed at children and young people, a group of humans who are ‘newcomers … in the process of becoming but not yet complete’ (Arendt 2006,183). Moreover, education demands a particular responsibility from the adult generation ‘for the life and development of the child and for the continuance of the world’ (Arendt 2006, 182, author’s italics). Thus, in contrast to justice in general, education and educational justice are aimed at a group of humans who are ‘on their way,’ who should be allowed to experience, try and to fail – to whom adults, parents, teachers and educators, in particular, have an educational responsibility to support and guide.

Education has two parallel, partly overlapping tasks that deal with aspects of everyday life at which, according to the Oxford Dictionary, life skills are aimed. Firstly, education prepares children and young people for later adult and working life. Secondly, it aims to be enriching in itself, contributing to the student’s character formation and development. However, depending on society and current work life, these two tasks may overlap. Nevertheless, there is an important difference in how they are justified. The first task is justified by utility: what is needed in the current society. Preparing children and young people for later societal participation must consider societal needs, also recognising that young people are not educated for unemployment. The second task is ethically- politically justified. While education enriches character formation, it also contributes to human communities, fostering the ability to live morally good, fair and equal lives together. Hence, the question remains concerning which of these two normative justifications is the fundamental basis for introducing Life Skills and Public Health in Norwegian schools.

Traditionally, Norwegian curricula have been content-related with a school-based approach. Hence, the focus has been on what the students encounter in school, not what they accomplish. At the beginning of the 2000s, this focus changed. By introducing a new curriculum reform, the Knowledge Promotion (LK06), Norway embraced a competency-based assessment system that emphasised what students should master rather than what they should work with (Sivesind 2013). The main argument for the change was that a knowledge-driven society had more use for acquiring basic skills, learning methods and being willing to learn than for academic breadth (Møller 2013). With The Subject Renewal, the main features of LK06 continued. However, one difference was it was now more theoretically rooted in cognitive and sociocultural learning theory (Gilje, Landfald, and Ludvigsen 2018).

Norwegian culture have a tradition to appoint political committees and panels to present and discuss the knowledge base and possible courses of action on various public measures before initiation. Prior to revising the curriculum, The Ludvigsen Committee focused on ‘assess[ing] the degree to which the content of school covers the competencies pupils will need in the future society and its working life’ (NOU:15, 15). Following the committee’s proposal, the concepts of self-regulation, metacognition and deep learning were centralised concepts in the revised curriculum. Politically, Norwegian schools were taking a step towards a specific view of knowledge, inspired by an international movement: 21st-century skills (NOU 2014, 7; Lie In press). Moreover, the committee called for a stronger emphasis on social and emotional skills in student academic learning, such as motivation, collaboration and emotional regulation. This emphasis was also clearly seen in a proposal of ‘a broad concept of competence,’ which included social and emotional learning and development (NOU 2015, 8). Notably, the supposed link between academic learning and social-emotional skills was clearly conveyed in the committee’s proposal for teaching life skills, which they claimed would contribute to developing self-regulatory competence (NOU 2015, 8).

The OECD is a key global premise provider for knowledge, economic interests and education. Their Survey on Social and Emotional Skills conveys a clear message about the importance of seeing students’ future success related to developing specific social and emotional skills, including persistence, optimism and empathy. According to a 2020 online presentation, a focus on fostering these skills will ‘help us to perform better academically, to succeed in the workplace and to play more positive roles in our communities.’ The OECD also envisions ‘a real shift from the industrial approach to the education of the past … a shift that every education system will need to make in order to be well-positioned to adapt to change.’¹

The concept that the school should promote students’ social and emotional skills (e.g. critical thinking and responsible behaviour) is familiar in the Norwegian educational context. However, unlike before, which was more related to bildung, this discursive framework now testifies to a shift towards a more individualised and performative discourse, emphasising what the student should master or perform (Riese, Hilt, and Søreide 2020). Thus, the normative justification for promoting student development of social and emotional characteristics is to a lesser degree rooted in bildung, instead seen as related to utility – the individual’s possibility of succeeding academically, occupationally and socially.

Notably, the curricular description of life skills and the former Norwegian Minister of Education’s quote fit this picture. Thus, there is not an overlap between the two justifications mentioned above, although, at first glance, it may seem so. Instead, there is a mixture of the two justifications favouring the former.

An educational examination of the norm question involves not only examining what is desirable in the education, but also how one believe one will achieve the desired outcome. However, the fact that the curriculum presents life skills as a competency goal, something students should achieve through education, means that it avoids saying anything about ‘the way,’ about the pedagogical process on which it actually depend. Consequently, critical dimensions disappear regarding educational justice, and students’ mental health and emotional life. Therefore, the final part of this article closely examines some of these dimensions, discussing them in light of Sara Ahmed’s book The Promise of Happiness.

The promise of happiness

Sara Ahmedworks ‘at the intersection of feminist, queer and race studies.’² As a theorist, Ahmed might be somewhat difficult to place. She has been seen in the context of New Materialism (Coole and Frost, 2010), however especially her feminist contribution to affective theory and methodology has gained influence (see, e.g. Åhäll 2018; Seigworth and Gregg 2010; Ahmed 2014). Ahmed’s phenomenologically inspired analyses are often based on a concept that she pursues, drawing on philosophy, literature and feminist and queer perspectives. In her cultural critique, Ahmed (2010), the concept of happiness is the subject of her conceptual analysis.

Ahmed’s interest in the feeling of happiness is not about understanding what it is. Rather, she examines what happiness does, especially what ‘the promise of happiness’ means to our lives. She describes happiness with three components: (1) affect (to be happy is to be affected by something), intentionality (to be happy is to be happy about something) and evaluation or judgment (to be happy about something makes something good). According to Ahmed (2010), happiness is associated with objects, which she calls ‘happy objects’ described as ‘those objects that affect us in the best way’ (22), ‘refer[ring] not only to physical or material things but also to anything we imagine might lead us to happiness, including objects in the sense of values, practice, styles, as well as aspirations’ (29).

Thus, Ahmed frames happiness as more than a spontaneous feeling. She sees it as a social construct – as what is promised to us while reaching for certain objects. Consequently, ‘[h]appiness involves a form of orientation: the very hope for happiness means we get directed in specific ways, as happiness is assumed to follow from some life choices and not others’ (54). Although Ahmed mainly focuses on what the promise of happiness means for aspects of life such as our choice of partner, she also sees it playing a crucial role in education. Education is about orienting, Ahmed writes. Including orienting children and young people towards happiness, towards what we consider a good life. The crucial point is that this approach promises that education can bring about a good life and happiness.

By expressing a definite understanding of how life should be lived, life skills can exemplify the promise of happiness for students through their education. Indeed, Ahmed is fully engaged in this promise. Consequently, her critique is relevant in this context.

Educating for life skills in light of Ahmed’s thinking

An important dimension disappears when omitting pedagogical processes from the description of life skills: one is disregarding that children and young people’s development and acquisition of life skills and experiences, including complex, contextual and non-generalisable processes in which maturation and the environment play important roles. Moreover, recognising that educational practice is fundamentally relational and contextual is also omitted. However, in looking at Ahmed, the educational ideal of life skills is impossible to disconnect from the social.

Ahmed distinguishes herself from approaches that consider happiness an outcome of what one does, a reward for hard work (22). Instead, her phenomenological approach sees happiness as something that arises socially, experienced and partaken of through ‘the drama of contingency’: ‘how we are touched by what comes near’ (22). Ahmed continues, ‘[it] refocuses our attention on the ”worldly” question of happenings’ (22), emphasising the importance of considering the children’s actual world of experience.

In Ahmed’s thinking, the promise of happiness presupposes alignment, where an individual believes that a given action or achievement (i.e. an ‘object’ or ‘happiness-pointer’ in her words) will produce happiness. This belief is how the promise points towards certain choices and away from others, offering direction. Although people may think they decide which objects will bring them happiness, they do not consider this neutrally. Instead, these judgements arise, and is passed on culturally and socially. Thus, before we encounter them, the objects are already given positive or negative affective value and social status. Moreover, objects believed to bring forth happiness by a community will circulate as ‘social goods’ in that community, that is, something worth striving for.

Education is an example, aimed at children and young people. Thus, Ahmed demonstrates how education is culture-dependent, influenced by prevailing cultural ideas and discourses that affect us affectively. By participating in a community’s orientation towards happy objects and social goods (i.e. presented in the context of education), an individual aligns with community values, affectively participating in the belief that the current object will also lead to happiness (s. 38). Essentially, for the individual student it not just concerns how she, more or less benevolently, are doing her best in school. It concerns her emotional investment in her own happiness, in finding a place in society. Thus, Ahmed not only shows us how we are directed, but also how emotions come into play. Consequently, the emotional consequences become clear if the promise is not fulfilled for various reasons.

According to Ahmed, ‘The very expectation of happiness gives us a specific image of the future … This is why happiness provides the emotional setting for disappointment’ (29). Failing in all or parts of a ‘happiness project’ can become an emotional defeat. Paradoxically, in accounting for the introduction of Life Skills and Public Health, another dimension that disappears when omitting the pedagogical processes from life skills is that it may generate unfortunate emotional consequences.

Ole Jacob Madsen, Professor of Psychology, has been particularly critical of introducing life skills in Norway, believing that they testify to an individualised culture where students is seen as responsible for solving political problems. Madsen asserts that rather than reducing the pressure the young people experience, they are asked to do more. Moreover, rather than viewing good mental health as an integral part of a safe and stable upbringing environment, it is considered something that must be trained (Madsen 2020).

This discussion leads to a third important dimension that disappears when omitting the pedagogical processes from life skills: fundamentally, it is undemocratic. With reference to Biesta (2006), with a lack of an educational language about the ‘way’ to the goal, the idea that something new or unexpected might happen along this way can never be an option.

As a feminist, Ahmed is concerned with power: how discrimination is maintained through social power structures. To illustrate her point, she turns to ‘unhappy archives’ that contain alternative descriptions of happiness found in feminist, anti-racist and queer perspectives in literature and film. These alternatives demonstrate how cultural expectations for happiness can be out of step with actual experiences. For example, feminist literature in the 1960s painted an entirely different picture of women’s experiences of being at home, responsible for domestic work and child-raising against a prevailing narrative of ‘the happy housewife.’ Although Ahmed primarily is concerned about other aspects of life, her critique is relevant to education. Through her examples, Ahmed shows how difficult it can be to break with expectations, even if one wishes to do so, since participating in the happiness narrative may be a prerequisite for participating in the community. As previously demonstrated, life skills are indeed seen as an entrance ticket to working life and all of life. Ahmed’s point is that the promise of happiness can become a ‘happiness duty,’ something one must follow up on to maintain a social position and relationships with others.

Furthermore, the happiness duty may not be a personal commitment towards future happiness. A possible break with expectations might also have emotional and moral consequences in the individual’s surroundings, especially with those closest, such as family. Although Ahmed is not referring to education here, breaking with educational expectations could also be emotionally tricky when disappointing loved ones like parents. Hence, social obligations will also play a part since the promise of happiness is created and played out within desired social and affective relational networks.

The promise of happiness, promoted in schools and elsewhere, functions as an affective orientation tool, guiding us in specific directions. It helps maintain societal traditions and structures, becoming, according to Ahmed, ‘the social pressure to maintain the signs of getting along’ (39). By showing how the promise of happiness illuminates the right path, emphasising how it has infiltrated our relationships with others, Ahmed shows how the promise of happiness helps justify social oppression, making alternative lifestyles difficult. Thus, ‘happiness becomes an exclusion of possibility’ (217).

An essential reason for introducing Life Skills and Public Health was reducing mental health problems for children and young people. However, teaching students life skills to solve increased mental health problems is naive at best. Inspired by Ahmed, we see that this initiative might unintentionally work against its purpose. Therefore, reclaiming the significance of the pedagogical dimension in education is vital. However, this does not address the issue of dealing with negative emotions.

When unhappiness is not the endpoint

Reducing the pressure on students, as advocated by Madsen, could likely alleviate the situation in Norway. There are sound pedagogical reasons for such a proposal, even if they primarily raise political questions. However, how bad feelings could be related to educational justice remains, requiring an exploration of the interesting relationship between the political and the emotional.

Notably, Ahmed’s feminist work includes an attractive option for education towards a greater degree of justice – not through distributive justice’s inclusion or adaptation but by breaking with the problem of expectations of the individual through unhappiness. Ahmed explains, ‘If injustice does have unhappy effects, then the story does not end there … Unhappiness is not our endpoint’ (217). Instead of arguing that we should overcome bad feelings by developing perseverance and thinking positively, Ahmed suggests a different approach to bad feelings as ‘creative responses to histories that are unfinished’ (217). Notably, she does not aim to glorify bad feelings or create a romantic relationship to feelings that are unbearable. Nevertheless, she suggest, that ‘we need to think about unhappiness as more than a feeling that should be overcome. Unhappiness might offer a pedagogic lesson on the limits of the promise of happiness’ (217).

By emphasising unhappiness, Ahmed testifies to a thinker who refuses to be controlled by the imperative of happiness. By doing this, and at the same time drawing attention to the pedagogical space of opportunity that can be found here, Ahmed actually identifies the core of the problem: today’s educational rhetoric lacks the language and the will to recognise a central pedagogical dimension in education: what happens when normative educational ambitions and students meet.

Ahmed (2010) writes, ‘To kill joy […] is to open a life, to make room for life, to make room for possibility, for chance’ (20). While Ahmed primarily sees chance related to other aspects of life, I apply this idea to education. Consequently, the vital educational question should not be how to make students not enter the room of unhappiness, which is encouraged in today’s educational vocabulary. Instead, the question should be what we, as educators, should do when the room emerges, when encountering bad feelings, such as unhappiness, that affect us. The question is not how to avoid unhappiness but what comes after unhappiness: How can we move on from unhappiness in the name of justice?

Education is a social practice that differs from other social practices by aiming at a group of people who are ‘in the process of becoming but not yet complete’ and subject to an educational responsibility. The question is how we as educators manage this responsibility while not excluding opportunity. Thus, promoting justice through education calls for balancing educational responsibility with Ahmed’s approach to unhappiness. Hence, we need to philosophise on what negative emotions such as unhappiness actually require from education.

At a time when educational outcomes are emphasised in local and international political contexts, I argue that the task for philosophy of education should be 1) to reclaim the significance of the pedagogical dimension in education and 2) to philosophise on what negative emotions such as unhappiness require from education. Therefore, Ahmed’s thinking about unhappiness can be an exciting track to pursue.

‘Unhappiness might offer a pedagogic lesson on the limits of the promise of happiness”, Ahmed writes. With these words, she shows us where we should turn in our pursuit of justice, reminding us of an important educational realisation. It is in fact when it becomes difficult – when we face adversity, that we learn, develop and grow, as John Dewey would say, alone and together with others.

Disclosure statement

No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author(s).

Notes

1. https://www.oecd.org/education/ceri/social-emotional-skills-study/Improving-the-development-of-students’-social-and-emotional-skills_web-only.pdf

2. https://www.saranahmed.com/bio-cv