6-25-05
12:39 p.m.
A countdown begins…5…4…3…2…1. A new stage in life ushers through.
Slowly I have acquiesced to the greedy spirits of U and Haul, and am now readying for my Oklahoma move. I will be taking off on July 4th, fittingly named “independence day”, a quaint reminder of my much belated freedom.
The bleak pallor of my walls—their decorations and hangings neatly packed in cardboard boxes—signals the end of my time here. My apartment is beginning to lose its personal touch, waiting expectantly for the next occupant to adorn its now lackluster space. Kalamazoo, the small crook of earth that has been home for the past four years will soon pass into unfamiliarity, taking up some piece of devalued real estate in the suburbs of my head. All kind of sad really.
* * *
“Upon the recommendation of the faculty and by the authority of the Board of Trustees, Western Michigan University has conferred upon ***** the degree of Bachelor of Arts, Magna Cum Laude”.
These are the words that I received today in the mail, secured neatly in a white envelope with the words “DO NOT BEND,” printed on the side. I must admit that upon seeing my diploma—a nine by eleven inch off white sheet embossed with the gold leaf authority of Western Michigan University—I was taken swiftly back to my four-year college spree.
W.M.U., like most college conglomerations, is a veritable city unto itself – boasting a student audience of 30, 000 strong. As I walked down the long sidewalk avenues, past bronze and wood sentinels of impressionistic art, I often marveled at the mass transit of students making their way to class. What a patchwork this steady stream was, a heady mixture of people of all shapes colors. Of all the things that college gave me, I found the appreciation for this swimming vortex of people and ideas, this cosmopolitan diversity of campus life, most rewarding.
My first visit to campus, in 2001, was a rather dismal depressing affair. I was required to see an academic advisor at the Arts & Sciences counseling office, to meet and discuss the general education requirements for my degree. After wearily twiddling my thumbs in the waiting room for a good length of time, I was happy to meet Angela, a cute curly haired women skilled in the art of pacifying student uncertainty. Soon after we settled in her office and exchanged pleasantries, she handed me a rather substantial looking notebook filled to capacity with degree requirement sheets. One hundred and twenty two credits, they demanded, from seven academic areas, five LEC core distributions, and six proficiencies. The system was complex, and Angela had to repeat herself more than a handful of times just to explain it to me. Forty-five minutes in, her office door again swung open, and I left in a state of deranged confusion, utterly intimidated by the amount of work just set before me.
“Rome wasn’t built in a day,” I ruminated “and neither would my brain”.
* * *
One of the most difficult things about the college track for many students is the number of choices, the number of paths set before you. Professors, by example or through direct invitation, play at the role of occupational recruiter, working to pull the brightest students into their chosen fields. College, after all, is supposed be the point in which one answers that gratingly annoying question: What do I want to be when I grow up? If a student is unable to answer, classes can become a boxing match of sorts, knocking a pupil from one major to the next - bringing one ever closer to the TKO of career enlightenment.
I was lucky enough to find my niche right off the bat. My general education requirements quickly taught me just how disinterested I was in mathematics, business, engineering, or anything that hinted of practicality. As in my youth, the hub of my curiosity was centered on the human story, in fable and in truth – in literature, science, and within the context of the unfamiliar. Anthropology, with its discussion of hominid evolution and biology, archaeological remains, cultural expression and the like, seemed for me a perfect fit.
Unlike the newly erected fortresses of the business college, or the glass and steel edifices of science and engineering, the Anthropology department resides in a somewhat dilapidated old dorm hall, the bottom layer in a religion-philosophy-social studies architectural pie. Despite the meager portion of student dollars that the department receives, the instruction offered is quite good, especially with the small student to teacher ratio. These lesser numbers (only about 75 declared undergraduate majors) proved advantageous for me, as I slowly worked my way up the academic ranks, eventually becoming the president of the Anthropology Student Union (not too difficult a position to receive considering the lackluster ASU attendance records).
And so it was, through my studies, I was introduced to the Trobriand Islanders of Papua New Guinea, the Voodoo Gods of Haiti, the historical archaeology of the Caribbean, the biological qualities of our hominid ancestors. I excavated the seventeenth century remains of Fort Saint Joseph, I led discussions on the trans-Atlantic slave trade, I stared into the hollow eye sockets of a long forgotten Barbadian slave.
What more could a student have asked for. To learn above all else just how fascinating this world truly is, and to feel a sense of purpose in his own effort to unearth these discoveries.
* * *
Now, as I enter my apartment strewn with cardboard boxes and other articles of my move, only one wall hanging remains for me to see. Gloriously rimmed in an antique replica frame, my diploma now rests quietly – a true testament to my life in Kalamazoo and to the exploratory avenues of my college experience.
Soon I will make my way to Oklahoma, only to mark a new age in the advancement of my years. What’s to come? Hmmm…a good question indeed.
One must stay tuned.Random WMU Adventure Pics
(archaeology in the Caribbean)
(urban excavation in Bridgetown, Barbados)
(too much work? or vacation?)
(Bajan blue)
(Anthropology Student Union jaunt to Cahokia Mounds)
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