Yes, I do Study

I have yet to figure out the meaning of the word "college" here in Britain—some say it's the last two years of high school, some say it's the transition between high school and university, but I say it's just a loose term regarding education. However, I do know that by UK standards, York St. John is NOT a college, but a uni.

This makes discussing Calvin College an awkward task as I don't know whether to call it a uni or a college—I'd hate to be mistaken for a high schooler when it's bad enough feeling like a freshie again! Looking back three years, I don't recall feeling so small and uncertain about "the way" things work. 

Last week, on the first day of class, I held a piece of crinkled paper with a torn edge in my hand, reading it like a map as if those tiny marks, "TW/007," actually made sense. After what felt like 10 minutes of wandering, I decided it would be worse to walk in late to class, so I asked for directions as any freshie would. "Excuse me," I said, "I'm looking for room double-Oh-seven in building TW." 

I'm positive I said, "double-O," as in "James Bond." Not "double-U," as in "W." Needless to say, I ended up in front of room TW/W07. Apparently, I can't assume everyone knows who James Bond is, even the British.

Two weeks of class have passed since that first day, and the freshie feeling is starting to wear off—I directed someone to the toilets today. So proud. However, the feeling of foreignness has not worn off, and I'm very much okay with that. Being foreign's fun! 

Every day, especially that first, I get this strange kick of adrenaline when I raise my hand—naturally, talking in class is no big deal, but there's something pleasingly jarring about hearing my plain American accent among the British. Heads turn as people notice, particularly in my American literature class when they realized there's an "expert" among them—I'll let them think this for a while, but soon they'll find out I'm no expert on anything American.

I'll just say, it's slightly awkward when a British student, 2 years younger, knows more about Obamacare than I do. 

Interestingly, though contrary to stereotyping all Americans as fat gun-owners who eat McDonald's and Taco Bell, the British are strangely obsessed with America: 90% of club playlists are by American artists, 9/11 has been mentioned more in the past week than I've heard in the last 5 years, and for 3 hours my creative writing class discussed the importance of American poetry's influence on the world. NOW tell me we're fat gun-lovers.

I wouldn't change classes, though, even if I could. There is a simple pleasure and a fascinating learning curve in listening to the British discuss America—I may be learning more about the States here at uni than I have in the past 20 years. Except the geography. Boston is, in fact, very far from Chicago.