Feature: A Memoir from Oxford
A Rhodes Scholar recounts how his personal philosophy has evolved after just a few semesters at Oxford University.
'All my love's in vain' shouted the old man with a yellow peace flower on his hat.
His dirty hands turned harmonica blasts into music. I dropped three coins worth a total of 35 pence into an old shirt piled like a purse at his feet. 'Take care of yourself,' I said in passing.
'Where are you from, lad?' he asked.
I turned and answered, 'Michigan, America.'
The man replied, 'All right. I'm from England. Unfortunately.'
He lifted up his left hand and gave me the peace sign. I glanced into his glossy eyes, and walked away with a shrug and slight smile.
Roland and Charles were waiting for me down at the King's Arms--one of the oldest and most famous pubs in Oxford. At night, undergraduate students from the university usually pack the place since he drinking age is only 18 in the United Kingdom, but it was a little early in the evening for them.
Summer term--officially known as Trinity term--started the end of April and continues through June. The academic terms are like the old MSU trimesters, except they are only eight weeks long. A full-time student is 'in-class' 24 weeks total, less than half the year! The other weeks are for 'holiday,' as they call it.
Students scatter off to Paris, Morocco, Amsterdam, New York City, or Egypt. Some go home; few work. Local educational trusts provide for their tuition and living costs, so professors discourage students from paid employment and from heavy extra-curricular involvement. Victorian ideals of study and leisure prevail at this Old World university.
Rhodes Scholars, especially Americans, follow the lead of our English peers, and even one-up them. We fly to Beijing, Sydney, Moscow, and Cape Town on our holiday stipends and extra travel grants from the trust. Fun in the sun and exotic adventures are the goals of most, but not all. Occasionally a bit of research, language study, or volunteer work is accomplished in these far away lands. I hope to be an exception to the rule this summer, or winter as it will be in South Africa where I'll be working on local environmental problems in Port Elizabeth with the Ubuntu Environmental Trust.
For the last term break, I stayed around Oxford and punctuated my time with short trips to Scotland, Wales, London, and the basketball courts. I was able to get into the university's indoor court a few days a week and play with some other guys from the Blues basketball club.
Luckily, I was one of the 24 to make the club at the beginning of the year, otherwise I would rarely be able to play because there is only the one indoor court in all of Oxford. Normally, the club has about five hours of practice time, except when weird sports like korfball (don't ask) and archery need the gym. The outdoor courts are worse, despite the nice May weather. I've only found three so far. One of them is like any black-top court at an elementary school. The other two are no good: extra-high rims, crumbling pavement, crooked metal backboards. Another hoop doesn't even have a court so it doesn't count. The steel pole comes up out of he grass in the middle of a public park. I noticed a group of boys playing there--no shorts, no tennis shoes, no T-shirts--with dress pants, collared shirts, an blue suit jackets, firing airballs from ten feet out. 'I want to be like Larry (Bird),' I thought sarcastically.
During an average week, most of my time is spent on my studies in modern history. Modern history for Oxford University begins with the Roman occupation of the British Isles in the First and Second Centuries AD, but I'm trying to be a little more current! The Great Depression, the New Deal, and American popular culture in the interwar years have been my focus. I consider this the era of the birth of contemporary America: cars, cities, corporations, and Charlie Chaplin despite severe inequalities and hard times.
Reading so much gets me down, though. It makes me feel like my life is encompassed by the university. Being just an Oxford student is not satisfying either. Class barriers separate students into groups and the city is divided between the town (the people who live and work in the city) and the gown (the students). There are no expectations of community service. We assume our academic work has value, but I have not been asked to figure out how it can be applied.
Oxford University is the Ivory Tower packed with the luxuries of Buckingham Palace. Professors serve students sherry during tutorials. Parties are black tie and fancy dress. Scouts come into student rooms everyday to make the bed and empty the trash can! The scary thing is that this is supposedly the best life gets. Aren't we all striving for more leisure time, more security, and more status? American culture is filled with examples of upward mobility and images of the rich life. Many of us with university degrees have learned those lessons especially well. We are damn good at doing pretty well for ourselves.
The American Dream is yesterday's news. We have more disposable income and better jobs than any other generation of people in the world and in the history of the world. Yet we are not satisfied; we feel this subtle incompleteness. What are we missing?!
On my walks around the gardens of Oxford during study breaks, I think about that question in reference to myself. The roses are in bloom. A green grass bank along the river on the Magdalen College grounds is the most serene place I've ever been. Others have said that their years at Oxford as Rhodes Scholars were the best in their life: the big money, the fancy parties, the exotic travel. I want less of the litter and glamour and more of the meaning of life: less shelter from the world and more time with the people with whom we share it.
I'm thankful that I've had the chance to experience and to reflect of this lifestyle of the rich and famous, so I could reject it and begin looking for something new. Otherwise, I might have followed the normal patterns of professional middle American consumption with the belief that buying a deluxe house, a large-screen TV, and an alarm system would make me happy and secure. I have realized the danger of such things--literally.
It is a mistake to believe that dollars and status are neutral elements. Now, I see how they undermine our common humanity by isolating us from others. How many without food, lonely, ill, or tired people have I ignored in my haste to get to a lecture, to write an essay, or to get to a movie? The old man with the harmonica and I spent that moment together because we were willing to acknowledge and accept each other. He could've kept playing his blues. I could've dismissed him as a bum sleeping rough. 35 pence, a greeting, a little music, and a smile, though, are not enough to bring about equality and understanding. The bottom line is that after a moment I walked away.
What more could I've done? Looking back, probably nothing. Looking ahead, everything. Learning and living with people and families who are dealing with different circumstances should be the organizing force of our lives, provided that our basic needs are met. This means abandoning traditional professions and politics that reinforce hierarchy and self-centeredness.
I hope to transcend the confines of being an Oxford student by sharing the benefits with more people and spending less time in the library. The tower nd the palace are mine, regardless, so I'm going to do something good with them. Dayne Walling, '96, is reading for a second B.A. in Modern History at St. Peter's College, Oxford University. At Michigan State University, he earned a B.A. in Social Relations from James Madison College. He can be reached on e-mail at: dayne.walling@spc.ox.ac.uk. His immediate post-Oxfor