Nine more days.
Nine more days until I get on a plane to the land of much freedom and my life turns completely upside down.
It all started over a Christmas dinner conversation with a man who shouldn’t have been there in the first place. At the table were my family, my dad’s American lawyer, and myself. I’ll let you figure out who the odd one out is.
After a bit of semi-awkward small talk, the subject of education came up.
“So you are at Otago University?” he inquisitively asked.
“Yup."
“Do you like it?” he continued.
“Not really, to be honest. It’s fun, but academically uninspiring," I replied rather bluntly.
“Well, what do you know about American universities?”
This was the question that ultimately changed the course of my young adulthood.
At first I thought he was just being friendly, because everyone knows you need four A-Levels with straight A's to study overseas… right? Well, his persistence said otherwise.
I awoke a few days later to an e-mail with a link to Springfield College, in Massachusetts, and the news that he had woken up at 4 AM to contact several schools that may be willing to take me on.
No, that isn’t a typo. It is a small accomplishment for me to get out of bed before noon, and this man was awake before the sun came up to e-mail potential schools for my sake. It was precisely at this moment, where I felt a small surge of electricity shoot up my body, something that I hadn’t felt in a long time. Fuck me, he’s not joking, I thought. Or, as Obama would say, hope.
After a few weeks of me getting my shit together, waking up early (but not at fucking 4 AM), and e-mailing a few of these schools myself, I had a number of interview requests from five liberal arts colleges -- three from the Midwest and two from Oregon. It would not be an overstatement to say that I was shitting myself on the first phone call I had with one of the colleges, which happened to be with the admissions officer at Lewis & Clark.
After a few minutes of semi smooth sailing, he asked me what I liked to do for fun. My heart raced and my brain froze. In the space of the three long, silent seconds that followed his simple query, I had an existential crisis. What do I like to do for fun?
“Well, I spend a lot of time on the Internet." No, no I couldn’t say that. “I enjoy Shakespearean literature and playing the violin.” Nope, I don’t like either of those things. I managed to blurt out, “Well, uh, I like hanging out with friends.. and.. I want to do more outdoor activities”. I hadn’t lied, but I was fairly positive that the American dream was over. “Great! So when are you able to come over for an interview?” he asked. I managed to keep it together on the phone, but what ensued in my front yard was an electric fist pump routine.
After several more dialogues -- I won’t bore you with the details -- my tickets were booked and the travel itinerary was planned. This was really happening.
Upon stopping off at a small service station somewhere in the Midwest, I was greeted with an array of bumper stickers, including anti-Obama slogans and the reiteration of the ancient 2nd amendment. Oregon it is, I thought to myself.
I could not have been more wrong. Walking back to our rented Chevy from my visit to Beloit College, I knew that it was my first choice. Despite having three colleges left to visit, I just knew. It could be a combination of rational factors, or it could be something that cannot be justified by rational thought. But when I was walking back to that car, every fiber in my body was telling me there was no other college that I would like more. A sense of community is one of the most fundamental, yet overlooked requirements for a happy life, and that is what I felt at Beloit College.
So there I was, back in Dunedin, sitting in the flat van on the way home from the supermarket. I anxiously checked my mail for the 23rd time that day, and there it was. ‘Beloit College: A decision has been made regarding your application!’
Oh Jesus.
I am not religious, but I began to pray. I got down on my knees, clasped my hands together and looked to the heavens. Three other colleges had accepted me thus far, but rejection by this one would be a monumental blow to the American dream.
‘Congratulations!’ it read.
There are few people in the world who are gifted enough to justly articulate the feeling that followed, and I’m afraid I am not one of them. Those of you that have seen your team win a game in the last minute, or… been accepted by Beloit College, are familiar with such a feeling.
Now, I cannot help but wonder where I would be if I had sat next to someone else at Christmas.
