Someone I knew once remarked that, in theory, one could only understand 60% of everything taught to them in university and still walk away with a university degree. That was incredibly comforting when I was bottoming out in the company of Honours Physics students, but less so after I traded in Thermodynamics for Modern Critical Theory and was taught to start questioning everything (because in these postmodern times, everything's going to hell in a handbasket, of course).
There was this guy from my high school, in the year behind me, that wrote an op-ed piece for the local paper after his first summer at Yale; how an Ivy education was worth mortaging his parents' house because of the extraordinary students in his class, the Olympic swimmers, Amazon bush-whackers, American versions of Craig Kielberger, etc. To which I say, whatever -- I found out last night at Janet's birthday party (happy birthday, Janet!) just how extraordinary UBC kids can be. Marta's going to McGill Medicine; Sylvia H. to Columbia (yay!); Mark to MIT; Rich to Berkeley; Bruce to probably anywhere at all if he still wanted to do math. And people that I haven't heard from yet, but expect to. Wow.
I griped for such a long time over how I couldn't make myself fit into what I understood to be the college mold -- no speed-dating, partying, clubbing, class-skipping (honestly), foreign exchanges, or real "hanging out" time. No experimentation with my sexual orientation. No wild road trips. Nothing ever more wild than trying to block out the sound of raucous debaters with an excruciatingly expensive Irish coffee at an Irish pub on Alma. I have yet to buy a pair of truly impractical shoes. I used to think I was missing out, but no longer. And thankfully, that revelation hasn't come too late.
These are exciting times.
There was this guy from my high school, in the year behind me, that wrote an op-ed piece for the local paper after his first summer at Yale; how an Ivy education was worth mortaging his parents' house because of the extraordinary students in his class, the Olympic swimmers, Amazon bush-whackers, American versions of Craig Kielberger, etc. To which I say, whatever -- I found out last night at Janet's birthday party (happy birthday, Janet!) just how extraordinary UBC kids can be. Marta's going to McGill Medicine; Sylvia H. to Columbia (yay!); Mark to MIT; Rich to Berkeley; Bruce to probably anywhere at all if he still wanted to do math. And people that I haven't heard from yet, but expect to. Wow.
I griped for such a long time over how I couldn't make myself fit into what I understood to be the college mold -- no speed-dating, partying, clubbing, class-skipping (honestly), foreign exchanges, or real "hanging out" time. No experimentation with my sexual orientation. No wild road trips. Nothing ever more wild than trying to block out the sound of raucous debaters with an excruciatingly expensive Irish coffee at an Irish pub on Alma. I have yet to buy a pair of truly impractical shoes. I used to think I was missing out, but no longer. And thankfully, that revelation hasn't come too late.
These are exciting times.
