Today, James Cook University released its official results, and I passed the semester just gone. This means I have finished my degree. Saying that is roughly as surreal as declaring that I’m a leprechaun. I can’t overstate the extent to which I didn’t believe, when I started, that I would pass any subjects, and finishing was risible in its improbability.
It was certainly hard (and exhausting). Three years and a lot of work. I’d be remiss not to mention that it was Keil Jones who made me go for it in the first place and, by gum, he’s been supportive of me and the whole enterprise throughout. Thanks, Jones!
The path has been a bit screwy. First, it was a BA (English), which got me the Anne Deane Prize for Literature. Then, I switched to a BA (Sociology) because sociology is awesome, and received a letter of commendation from the Dean. Thereafter, I expanded slightly to a second major, the BA (Sociology/Criminology), which led to the Marjorie Prideaux Bursary for criminology. What I discovered was that I’m brighter than I thought, and have a bit of a talent for academic pursuits. Who knew? I was also blessed with lecturers who have been supportive, even praiseful, and generally amazing. And now it’s done. Ha. It’s ridiculous. My overall grade point average turned out to be 6.8 out of a possible 7, which isn’t bad for someone who snuck in feeling like Jed Clampett at a high tea.
At the present moment, I’ve been offered honours in sociology, and have a supervisor and thesis lined up. My thesis topic will be related to identity theory and fear of crime, and I’ll be beginning in the new semester in just a few weeks. My supervisor is aiming me, loosely speaking, for the doctorate program—but one mountain range at a time!
I wanted very much to go to university when I was a teen, but it just didn’t happen. I can’t tell you how bemusing it is to achieve your younger self’s surrendered dream.
Worlds Made of Words 