Monday, 30 November 2015

Having Fun Isn't Hard, When You Have (Four) Library Cards

Yes, I do have four library cards. And yes, I’ve used every single one of them.

Has my education been made the better for it? I can’t say for sure; I am a proponent of quality over quantity, after all. However, as we wrap up the last week of the academic term here in England, I can happily say that one of the most important aspects of my time here was the ability to completely immerse myself in Oxford's culture of education.

This semester, I have learned and grown as a student in a more profound and influential way than I would have at Hendrix. I mean, who knew that within two month’s time, I would be able to carry my (slightly tipsy) weight in a conversation about health equity with a doctor studying at the University of Oxford? (Hi, Rob)

I think this has come about for a few reasons. Without the additional burden of extracurricular activities, meetings, deadlines, etc., I was able to concentrate my entire attention on my studies, spending extra time learning, digesting, and enjoying the material in a way I could not at Hendrix. This has given me a heightened appreciation for and knowledge of the topics I’m studying.

My education has also had a more well-rounded quality to it, thanks to the teaching structure that the University of Oxford offers. I have discovered that the Oxonian tutorial style balances two types of American collegiate education: while the students gain detailed and sophisticated knowledge within their specific concentration of study (the advantage of large, state universities), they are also learning to express their ideas with clarity, as well as challenge the arguments of others (the advantage of most private, liberal arts schools). It really is the best of both worlds, and I benefited from it immensely this term.

Of course, along with library cards and studying and reading comes some important lessons to be learned. The lessons I have learned through my studies at Oxford can be split into two parts: academic and personal.

Academically, I have learned to synthesize information quickly and present my ideas more thoroughly and cohesively. Structuring an argument has always been a weak point of mine, but after this semester I can navigate the most advanced research in the field and articulate its meaning without blinking an eye. At this point, I could probably whip out an essay outline in twenty minutes, tops.

Personally, the tutorial style has forced me to stand on my own two feet, in more ways than one. For starters, teaching myself complex economic theory was no easy task, but I was surprised at how much I could learn with a book, a pencil, and long hours in the library. Furthermore, a one-on-one meeting with an expert in the field every week certainly required me to "know my stuff" and be prepared to defend it. While my tutors challenged my arguments, probing my mind to test the limits of my knowledge, they were also conditioning me to expand my worldview. I am thankful that I took the time to explore and question and be curious about the world over the course of these past few months; my unquenchable thirst and curiosity has been satisfied, and a travel bug has been awakened in me. Undoubtedly, the list of experiences and places to see has only grown since I arrived, and I don’t know my travel bug will ever return to its slumber. But I do know that through my newfound independence through traveling and studying, I am now standing firmly on my own two feet.

It has been a good semester, Oxford. So many important lessons have been learned. As the academic term wraps up for the year, I think it is time to close the books and put away the library cards.


Sunday, 29 November 2015

Just Churchin' Around

The most transcendent experience that I have ever had was at Bath Abbey just a few weeks ago. Admittedly, I was loath to visit yet another church; Europe is riddled with them, so what is of interest to me in visiting one more?

Yet the minute I stepped inside the gilded halls, all apprehension melted away. The choir was in the middle of practicing for a service, and their voices, round and angelic, spiraled up into the high, vaulted ceilings of the gorgeous, white-stoned church. All I could do was sink into a pew and try to brush away the tears rolling down my cheeks.


I have seen a lot of churches in my time here—from the Sacré Cœur in Paris to Westminster Abbey in London. They are all beautiful expressions of the purity and truth found deep within human nature. In many ways, churches are a desperate, human attempt to recreate heaven on earth. However, although one aspect of human nature desires to create beauty, another aspect brings about destruction and ruin. It is, as they say, two sides of the same coin.

This all came together for me as I was walking through Westminster Abbey during a recent trip to London. Admiring the beauty of the stained glass windows twinkling in the cold stone walls, my eyes landed on a small sign: because German bombs had blown out the windows during World War II, they were reconstructed during the 1950’s in the style of the original stained glass.

This gave me pause: here, in this echoing abbey, was where the beauty and evil of human nature had collided. It amazed me that the same species that could create something so beautiful and intricate could also be the same one to construct the deadliest weapons of war, to destroy in seconds what had taken centuries to complete. To be capable of creating heaven, but also hell, on earth.

I took these thoughts with me to Stonehenge, as well. My mom and I braved the wind chill and occasional rain showers to trek out via two trains, two buses, and 75 miles to the middle of a huge pasture, where flocks of sheep grazed nonchalantly beside one of the most phenomenal sights known to humankind. I had never appreciated the masterful architectural and engineering feat that Stonehenge represents, nor how deeply embedded it is in human history, until that day.

A spiritual spot for thousands of years, Stonehenge evolved as the people who used it did. Yet we still don't know exactly why humans built Stonehenge, besides that innately human desire for beauty. There are, of course, no records on the subject. People have speculated for centuries, but I think part of the beauty of the place is the mystery behind it.

“There is a nobility in not knowing,” singer/songwriter Hozier said about religion when I saw him speak at the Oxford Union last week. “We are born alone and die alone, but we are alone together in each other’s love. A huge part of humanity is just not knowing.”


Good and evil, heaven and hell; they both live within human nature simultaneously. Yet there lies a mystery behind those two opposite forces. No matter how many questions we have about humanity—what inspires us to create, why we feel the need to destroy—some, even the prestigious University of Oxford can’t help me answer. Maybe we will simply never know.