St Andrews - Back Again

After a year of absence from St Andrews I arrived a few days ago with all the romance of a fresher; West Sands glimmered like a movie, the Cathedral looked fresh from the pages of a novel, the picturesque streets were crammed with new bright faces to meet and mingle with. I still remember what it was like to be watching and following the St Andrews gossip and tirades from across the sea in California idealised by a healthy doss of nostalgia that hasn't quite left me yet, but sitting here typing away in Butts Wynd the reality of St Andrews has hit me squarely in the face.

So, I no longer write this viewpoint sat in my favourite writing position, in amongst the trunks of a redwood tree on the San Francisco Bay with a coffee by my side and the whole glistening wireless world of Internet at my fingertips. I am not curled up amongst the bracken with my white shiny ibook, that as a student of the University of California I am entitled to borrow any time I want from the university computer labs in exchange for my ID card. There is no wireless access available night or day, free of charge anywhere on campus. I certainly have no coffee by my side, as there's a fierce looking sign on the door warning us of the dangers of hot drinks. Even the coffee that I can buy and drink on South street is certainly not subsidised by the university as were my previous Santa Cruz lattes (they have admitted what millions have known for decades that coffee helps students focus). Both Santa Cruz and St Andrews are state run universities, with a set tuition fee for local students and a separate one for international or in the case of the states non-Californian students.



As most normal students do I always enjoy the idea of exploiting the university as much as I possibly can – of getting my money's worth, but the reality of St Andrews is that there really seem to be few facilities to exploit. In my bag I have my free careers calendars, a couple of jelly beans from those pink shop people handing them out along Market Street and I am ready and waiting for the goodies coming at the fresher fairs this weekend. I did the same last year and I intend to continue to do so as long as every week spent in full time education snatches away quality time with my future hypothetical children, or exotic holidays I might go on if only I wasn't still paying back bills to the Welsh Education Authority or Natwest for all those years spent as a student. However, what has struck me most about coming back has not been what has changed about St Andrews, but what has stayed the same and what in me has changed. I am no longer happy to scrabble after a couple of extra pounds of funding for a theatre project or be content with those few begrudgingly given tutorial sessions. We are paying and therefore we deserve more.



At my IR advising session this afternoon the 'advising' seemed limited to a series of one word questions. With no hello or goodbye I was rushed through in a matter of seconds. The only question requiring any kind of engagement of brain and with any prospect for 'advising' was, 'happy with your choices?'. As the question came after I had literally just finished closing the door and with the advisor's arm already hovered stamp in hand ready over my matriculation sheet I really didn't feel it was the time to say that it wasn't that I wasn't happy it was just that I wasn't really sure.I have no doubt that this particular professor was and is a lovely man, trying to cope with the 50 other IR students clamouring at the door and needing to be matriculated in the 2 hour slot designation as best he could, but that did nothing to helping me feel as though I was important as an individual to the IR department and not just another senior honours student clattering along the conveyor belt of Britain's world renowned education system. I confirmed dispassionately that yes indeed I was happy and was out in the hallway clutching my matriculation form before I knew that this would have been my one chance to change my mind about my choices for this year.



As a St Andrews students this probably does not strike you as particularly unusual, just another matriculation in another year of St Andrews life, and a year ago I would have done the same. Of course there's no chitchat, of course he doesn't know your name, calling it 'advising' is a farce, one shouldn't expect golden orbs of knowledge and wisdom to be exchanged between academic tutor and student at a session called 'advising'. In fact the whole idea of golden orbs of knowledge being exchanged should probably be scrapped all together. Office hours will be an interruption to otherwise important professor's business not a chance for them to get feedback on a class or get to know individual's personally, the computers will always be overcrowded, we will always queue to print, the books we need will rarely be available in the library, there might be one good tutorial a week, but the golden orbs will certainly be few and far between. As a fourth year this semester I will have two hours of teaching a week as opposed to the twenty I had last year. St Andrews will continue to turn out 'excellent' students, that must rely more on their independent learning and web searching (probably at a computer that they have had to buy, with broadband that they are also paying for) than because the university has supported, stimulated and educated them.

I remain highly romantic about St Andrews. I have become so Americanised that I wander around amazed that I am living in a house from the 1890's, thrilled that we have a 'genuine' castle and even rather excited by the idea of British accents. I don't just love it because it's Britain and home though, I love the place because of the societies, the traditions, the sense of community, my friends, the beautiful times I have had here. However, quite honestly, I am disappointed by the facilities available for exploitation, and quite sad that one of the things that has changed in me in the past year has been getting used to the idea of being more than simply a walking-talking cog in the great money making machine that is a unviersity system and instead being seen as a person with opinions and ideas that were valid. When a professor in Santa Cruz asked me, 'are you happy with your choices?', whether I replied yes or no mattered, maybe it wasn't that important but there would be support and help and options if I wasn't and he or I wouldn't have to feel as though rushing me through the door in 30 seconds max. was the central concern of the encounter. Maybe I might even have gained a few of those golden orbs of knowledge I was hoping for.