Life at Oxford

Luminous impressions of first year

The extraordinary revelry that greets finalists as they emerge from the university's exam schools. Oxford students face finals accounting for the material covered during their entire degree, and the scale of celebrations upon finishing is spectacular.

Oxford, more than any other place that I have ever been, is a place that allows you to live your questions. It is a place where life can be lived to the fullest, if you are curious enough and open to new experiences that is.  It is not hard to become overwhelmed in this city of dreaming spires – by the people (from every corner of the world, with academic interests that are just as diverse and eclectic), by the history (approximately a millennia of it), by the limitless opportunities (just name your dream and someone here will help you live it, or at the very least know someone else who can). But just as easy as it is to become overwhelmed, it seems almost effortless to find yourself in a strong and supportive community that will help you deal with the many challenges that you will face here.
 
One of the biggest paradigm shifts I have had to make (along with many of my North American colleagues) has been getting used to the amount of independence that one experiences as a graduate student at Oxford. It is scary, at first, to think of yourself as an academic lone wolf - ravenous for knowledge but used to hunting in a pack. Indeed, it is no small feat to take on the responsibility for formulating and answering your own questions – questions that no one has answered before. Being held accountable for fulfilling the enormous potential that we all possess is daunting to say the least. It is, however, genuinely satisfying (and liberating) to know that you’ve been supplied with an extensive set of raw materials and it is up to you to make the most of it. It also helps you to take advantage of the learning that goes on outside of the classroom; in the countless talks by world-reknowned speakers, in the late night discussions in Oxford’s many pubs, and in the fiery debates that, like a yoga class for the mind, stretch you in ways you never thought possible.

It is now coming to the end of Trinity Term, the last of the ‘Michaelmas, Hilary, Trinity’ triumvirate of eight-week terms here at Oxford. I have now experienced Oxford in all fours seasons.  Having ‘survived’ the English fall and winter, I can confirm that – yes, for the most part – British weather is terrible. There are days when the rain seeps into your soul and you don't even bother looking up at the sky because you know it will just be another variation of the monochromatic theme of 'grey and depressing.'  However, this only serves to makes the sunny weather all the more glorious.  And my word, does Oxford know how to appreciate the good days! Days when the sky is a delicious periwinkle blue with shapeshifting ivory clouds - a Rorschach test of true bliss.  Days when you spend the afternoon reading in the sun in University Parks – occasionally (read: more often than not) distracted by children climbing trees; by young women, in the spring of their lives, parading by arm-in-arm in their vibrantly-coloured dresses; by families unpacking their picnic baskets, full to the brim with delicious local fruits and veggies; and by young scholars, fresh out of the exams and still in their sub-fusc, walking past with their proud parents. Days when you breathe in the scent of cut grass from the perfectly manicured, tantalizingly untouchable lawns, or the occasional waft of the sweet smell of some undistinguishable floral specimen in one of Oxford's many stunning gardens. Days when you spend the afternoon punting with good friends, the pre-requisite Pimm’s or champagne and strawberries in hand, almost falling in because you’re laughing so much as you attempt to make the turn around the Magdalen College deer park. Days when you wander amongst the cows and buttercups in Port Meadow, or stroll along the Isis River minding where you walk so as not to step on the baby geese as you watch the rhythm of the rowers as they stroke in time (or not).
 
Aside from providing a glimpse of the redeeming qualities of British weather, Trinity Term also means exam time.  Exam time in Oxford is truly something special to witness. After locking themselves up in the library for the first half of term, students emerge dressed in the distinctive sub-fusc, looking like the penguins of academia with their gowns and mortarboards. You will also come to understand the carnation code so that you can appropriately empathize and/or celebrate with your fellow students – white for the first exam, pink for all those in between, and red for the glorious last exam. And if you see a student with a red carnation anywhere near the Exam Schools, you’d be best advised to watch out for residual honey/confetti/flour/champagne/chicken feather concoctions. It may seem quite sadistic, but I assure you that there is nothing more heartwarming than to see the mobs of young people gathering outside of the Exam Schools, waiting for their friends to finish their last exam with flowers, balloons, champagne and feast supplies in hand. This pure elation of finishing exams and/or dissertations is attenuated only by the bittersweetness of saying ‘goodbye’ and witnessing the inevitable diaspora of friends as they take off for new destinations around the world.
 
While Oxford may seem to be full of the complex and the mind-boggling, of strange traditions and funny customs, it is also a place full of simple pleasures and people who are just as humbled as they are humbling. These are the people, from every corner of the world, that come to Oxford with a hunger for knowledge and a thirst for life. These are friends, colleagues, partners in crime for life and, while they may eventually end up on the other side of the world from you, nothing will change the remarkable experience you have shared here. These are the people that challenge you and fill your life with more questions (and occasionally answers). These are the people that make Oxford what it is, where the line is often blurred between dreaming and waking life, and I feel honoured to be able to live my questions here with such inspiring company.