She Moved Across the World for Veterinary School. She Would Do It Again Tomorrow
She Left Canada, Crossed the World, and Named Her Pottery Studio Stinky Boy. She Is Exactly Right for This Profession. A former Division 1 water polo player studying veterinary medicine in Perth, Western Australia, Jacqui Maisey has a lot to say about kindness, credibility, and why resilience is not about toughness.
There is a small creative business called Stinky Boy Studio. It makes ceramics. It is run, in whatever hours remain after veterinary school, by Jacqui Maisey, a Canadian student currently living in Perth, Western Australia, who is also a former Division 1 water polo player and who will tell you, without hesitation, that productivity and performance are not the only measures of a meaningful life.
Jacqui arrived in Australia the way most good decisions happen through a combination of pragmatism, partnership, and a door opening at exactly the right moment. Other pathways had not worked out. The exchange rate made studying in the United States or United Kingdom significantly more challenging. She had worked alongside Australian-trained veterinarians whose clinical skills had genuinely impressed her. And her partner was accepted into medical school in Australia at the same time.
"Together we made the decision that this was the right step for both our careers and our future," she says. "It was not an easy choice, especially given the financial stress and distance from home, but I felt strongly that the experience and opportunity would ultimately be worth it."
Moving across the world to attend veterinary school is an act of considerable confidence. What becomes clear quickly in talking to Jacqui is that the confidence is not performative — it is earned, grounded, and notably clear-eyed about its own limits.
Credibility comes from action, not titles
The best career advice Jacqui has received is also the most quietly radical thing she says.
"Credibility comes from action, not titles. If you don't genuinely buy into the standards you expect from others, or you aren't willing to lead by example, people may listen to you because of hierarchy, but they won't truly respect or trust you."
Jacqui came to this understanding through observation rather than theory. Early in her emergency career, she worked under two veterinarians who demonstrated it in practice. They were in a busy ER environment — overworked, the kind of pace that makes it easy to cut corners on the human side of the job. They did not.
"Despite being overworked, they always remained calm, took time to teach, and led with kindness and curiosity," she says. "They actively protected their teams from difficult client interactions and created workplaces where people felt supported."
The phrase "actively protected their teams" is worth pausing on. Not passively permitted a good environment. Actively built and defended one. That distinction matters in veterinary emergency medicine, where the culture of a practice can make the difference between a sustainable career and a burnout statistic, and where the leadership that builds good culture is often invisible until it is absent.
"They showed me that veterinary medicine is fundamentally a team profession," Jacqui says, "and that maintaining perspective and compassion is essential even in serious situations. I strive to model my future career on the leadership they demonstrated."
What resilience actually means
Jacqui has a specific definition of resilience, and it is not the one that gets put on motivational posters.
"Resilience is less about toughness and more about continuing to show up with perspective and purpose."
She has had reasons to develop this understanding. Moving countries is one of them. Navigating demanding athletic training as a Division 1 water polo player is another. Balancing personal challenges alongside a demanding academic program is a third. These are not abstract trials — they are the kind of sustained pressures that either clarify what you believe or reveal that you never really believed it.
For Jacqui, the clarification landed on accountability. She describes it as one of the three qualities that got her where she is, alongside kindness and resilience — and she frames it in a way that is more demanding than it might initially sound.
"I believe growth in life comes from taking ownership, not from avoiding responsibility," she says. "Whether in study, work, or relationships, I try to focus on what I can do to improve a situation rather than who is at fault. That mindset has helped me build trust with others, move forward during setbacks, and create momentum even in uncertain circumstances."
This is accountability as a practice, not a value statement. There is a difference between saying you believe in accountability and actually asking yourself, in every difficult moment, what you can do rather than who is to blame. Jacqui means the second one.
On being liked, and not being liked
The advice Jacqui would give her younger self is less about strategy and more about permission.
"Not everyone is going to like you, and that's okay. At times you won't fit the mould, and people may judge you or make assumptions. That can be frustrating, but you don't need approval from everyone to move forward."
She adds: "Stay focused on your goals, keep showing up as yourself, and lead with kindness and curiosity. The right people will respect your work ethic and your values. In the long run, staying authentic matters far more than trying to be universally accepted."
For someone who has played competitive sport at the Division 1 level, moved across the world, and built a creative business named after something a little irreverent, the pattern is consistent: Jacqui is not optimizing for universal approval. She is optimizing for something more durable.
Purpose, and what it is not
Jacqui has a clear position on purpose, and it is worth quoting in full because it is one of the more precise things anyone has said about the subject in the context of veterinary medicine.
"Purpose gives meaning to sacrifice. Long training pathways and demanding careers become far more sustainable when they are guided by a clear sense of direction and personal values. At the same time, purpose should be bigger than any single job or title. Your purpose is not simply to be a veterinarian or a student — it is to be yourself and to build a life that feels meaningful and aligned with who you are."
The distinction Jacqui is drawing is between a career as an identity and a career as one component of a larger life. When identity becomes completely tied to a profession, she says, it is easy to lose perspective and burn out. She has seen this happen. She is trying not to let it happen to her.
The ceramics help. The sewing helps. The workouts help. These are not hobbies Jacqui tolerates alongside the real work — they are the infrastructure of a sustainable life, treated with the same deliberateness as the clinical training.
"These outlets help me maintain perspective and balance during the demands of vet school," she says. "They remind me that productivity and performance are not the only measures of a meaningful life."
What she would tell someone on day one
On the first day of vet school, Jacqui would say this:
"You're going to feel lost at first, and that's completely okay. Everyone is trying to find their footing, even if it doesn't look like it on the surface. Give yourself time to adjust, stay open to new experiences, and trust that you will find your people and your rhythm sooner than you think."
It is not dramatic advice. It is not a rally cry or a warning. It is the kind of thing you can only say if you have actually been lost and found your footing again — and if you trust that the person you are talking to will do the same.
Jacqui Maisey is a Canadian student in Perth, Western Australia, making ceramics in whatever hours remain, training for fitness, preparing for a career in emergency or mixed animal practice, and thinking seriously about what it means to build a healthier veterinary profession. She moved across the world for this. She is exactly where she meant to be.
Jacqui Maisey is a veterinary student at Murdoch University in Perth, Western Australia, and founder of Stinky Boy Studio. She is a member of the Vet Candy Rising Stars Class of 2026.
