King’s, with its picturesque, sometimes ornate buildings, and its reputation for nurturing students who become almost arrogantly self-assured of their futures, is probably one of the most reputable schools of its size in the country. I’m not personally a fan, as they have rejected me in the past for their Foundation Year (FYP) and one-year B.Jour. programs. I can’t say that I blame them – in the first case I applied too late, and in the second I was too flighty in my biographical essay (and didn’t even make the waiting list.) I can’t say that I regret either occurrence, because I probably wouldn’t have made it to Alberta, Poland, nor Ukraine, especially if I got into Journalism. So it’s time to put the past behind me.
Still, I dread going to King’s, so I try to lighten things up when the trip is necessary. King’s is definitely my eduphobic epicenter. I’m just glad I don’t have to drive or walk past it every day.
Anyway, I told you that story to tell you this one:
The last time I was at King’s, the item I was searching for was misshelved, which was kind of frustrating. This time I go, only half expecting to find my item, and sure enough I don’t – and I notice that a ton of other things are misshelved. I mean, for such a gleaming, ostentatious, pearly library, they sure need to get organized. You know, like Saint Mary’s plain, efficient, red library. Um, anyway, so I get some help from a really nice woman at the desk, and it turns out my item was in “recent acquisitions.” Ta-da! So I go to check it out, and this professor strolls up with an enormous stack of photocopied forms.
“Did you print these?” he asks her.
“No…” she looks at them, “it was someone else.”
“They’re for the FYP papers.”
I chose that moment to jovially remark, “I like FYP. It gives me a reason to succeed in spite of it.”
The bespectacled man looked at me like I was a curious, alien insect.
“You SMU students…” the clerk chuckled.