"Study" Abroad

Believe it or not, the name of this entire experience is “study” abroad, which is another detail I neglected to consider in the weeks leading up to it.

But whether I was ready or not, Monday morning found me wandering around campus, desperately searching for my classroom, an activity that takes up more time than I actually spend in class, which I’ll admit is a nice feature of the British university system. I’m taking four courses this term, but I only have nine hours of class a week. Feel free to be jealous now.

I did eventually find my way to 1916: The Somme, my elective history class. (It’s considered as being in the Arts A building, but it is physically located inside a different building with a different name. How confusing is that??? ) It was more or less a typical lecture class, and the lecturer was really interesting, and not just because he had a British accent. However, when he began talking about the required reading and referencing the course handbook (syllabus), I’m surprised a giant question mark didn’t appear over my head. I knew that British students were required to read more outside of class and that they did not have to read every book on the list, but how do they know which books to read? And what parts of those books? And for what purpose since the class has no exams? So many questions.

I made my way to the front of the class to the lecturer, and feeling like a kindergartener in a first grade classroom, I stammered a halfway coherent explanation of my situation and told him I was confused. I must have seemed pretty pathetic, and he told me to drop by his office hours tomorrow (yesterday) and we could "have a chat." I do like the way people phrase things here.

In an attempt to make myself feel more competent at life, I spent the rest of the afternoon on Facebook until it was time to go to my second and last class of the day, five hours after the first ended. This is the part where you feel a little less jealous of my schedule.

The Politics and Governance of Australia and New Zealand looks like it will be more fun than anticipated. The material seems rather dry, but I like both of the people co-teaching the class, and it’s seminar-style, so maybe I have half a chance of getting to know some of my classmates. Perhaps more noteworthy than the class was the classroom; in one of the corners, there was a CCTV camera, recording every moment. I’m sure Wash. U. has security cameras scattered about, but I’ve never seen one in a classroom. Maybe I’m over thinking it, but that brings up all sorts of privacy issues, and maybe even some censorship ones too. Hm, food for thought.

The next morning, I was sitting in a different lecture hall for The Transformation of Contemporary Europe, when Bilbo Baggins walked in and began teaching. Ok, he wasn’t actually a hobbit, but he bore a striking resemblance to him, and that’s about all I could concentrate on the entire time.

After a library tour and some more errands (you’d think by now I’d have the path to the International Office memorized, but no, I assure you, I don’t), I found my 1916 lecturer’s office. I didn’t feel so bad getting lost this time, since I had spotted him trying to find his own office earlier. He was very friendly and easy to talk to, much more so than most of my professors back home, and we chatted about my studies, differences between British and American universities and the class. He answered all my questions (I don’t have to read nearly as much as I thought I did) and made me feel better about class participation.

His seminar was that afternoon (another five hours after my morning class ended, ugh), and it was really fun! The class will involve a lot of small-group work, which sounds like a good way to get to know people. It should be a good term, at least academically!

Even after only two days, I’ve already picked up on some differences between American and British attitudes towards class. Courses at Sussex are SO much more relaxed than at Wash. U. First of all, even full-time professors encourage their students to call them by their first name. That makes the atmosphere friendlier. Because students have a choice in what materials they read, the classes are a lot less structured than back home. Students, at least so far, don’t seem as nervous or stressed, although that could be a reflection on Wash. U., and not American universities in general…

Perhaps the biggest sign of the different attitudes is the fact that students go out on weeknights, rather than weekends. This is difficult for me to wrap my mind around. Bars and clubs often have student rates and specials during the week, and everything is more expensive on the weekend since that’s when non-students go out, so it makes sense, especially if you’re a first year (freshman). Here, their grades don’t count for ANYTHING since all they have to do is pass (which is a 40% here, by the way). It must be nice.

Last night, the International Office sponsored a guided pub crawl, and I got a taste of this phenomenon. I especially appreciated the timing, since I don’t have class on Wednesdays. It was useful to see so many different places, and I now have an official favorite, the Royal Pavilion Tavern - great atmosphere and excellent (read: cheap) drink specials.

Another valuable lesson from last night: taxi drivers are more valuable than travel guide books. Every cab ride I’ve taken here has been pleasant, mostly because the drivers are so gregarious, but when three other students and I shared a taxi back to campus, the cab driver talked about how Brighton is set up, which areas were nice, and a host of other useful tidbits. Forget Rick Steves, next time I need advice, I’ll just call a taxi company.

It doesn’t seem like many students have class on Wednesday, and so it makes sense for it to be devoted to “societies” (clubs). I went to the PhotoSoc (Photography Society)’s first meeting of the term, and I only wish I had known to wear (or bring) snow boots. After introductions, we split up into smaller groups and went out to take pictures in the snow. It was loads of fun (and a little chilly too), and I was glad to use my camera, since I haven’t taken any pictures since I’ve been here.

Cue generic musings on Brits: I am happy to report that almost without exception, everyone I’ve met here has been incredibly friendly and helpful, which was not necessarily something I was expecting. Not to say that I was anticipating studying in a land filled with cold-hearted snobs for six months, but the British students are just as warm as people back home, and if anything, they’re much less cliquish and more inclusive than I think Americans might be in the same situation.

Still, even if I were to forget for a moment just how far I am from home (which I never do), little cultural quirks would bring me back. I’ve come to accept that one of these days, I will be hit by a bus because I cannot remember to look the right (literally) way before crossing the street. But the tendency to drive on the left applies to walking on sidewalks too, and I am forever moving to the wrong direction when someone is trying to walk by me on the sidewalk. Oops.

And just like in class, I suppose there are different norms in shopping. While in Brighton one day, I noticed that unlike in American stores, where the salespeople practically assault you when you walk into a shop, the salespeople ignored me until I asked for help. I always used to think American salespeople were too pushy, but that day, I sort of missed them!

These past few days have been filled with all sorts of pleasant and unpleasant surprises, but one of the most shocking for me is how I view myself over here. Although I was born in the States, have lived there for my entire life and consider myself an American, it’s never been a critical feature of my identity, and I never expected it would be. But over here, it’s obviously something that distinguishes me from most of the other students (although you wouldn’t know it if you saw this term’s group of international students—it feels like 90% of us are American), and all I have to do is open my mouth to announce it to anyone within hearing distance. In some ways, I feel marked, and it makes me more hesitant to talk to people, whether I’m asking directions, speaking up in class or just saying hello. It’s a little bit paralyzing. It’s not that I’ve encountered any anti-American sentiment, but I don’t want to be thought of as “the American,” although ironically, that’s exactly how I think of myself here sometimes. Identity crises were definitely not listed in the description of the Sussex program!

Lastly, a big thank you to everyone who’s e-mailed me to say that they’re reading the blog and enjoying it! I really appreciate it, and it’s been a lot of fun to create too. I promise to keep writing as long as I have anything remotely interesting to say, although next time, I’ll try to keep it a bit shorter for those of you without superhuman attention spans!