I remember when I first arrived in Oxford as a new fresher. I was uncertain and nervous. In all honesty, I was actually downright petrified. The sheer magnificence of the place, with its old buildings, stained-glass windows and big patches of grass in the middle of the ‘quad’ that no-one was allowed to walk on was the stuff of fantasy films. It was a big change from the concrete jungle I came from in south-east London, and I was completely out of my comfort zone.
The pressure piled up when, on day two of my arrival, I was handed my first essay: ‘Do historians and sociologists ask fundamentally different questions?’. My first thoughts were why I had to write about sociologists when I had come to read History, and why I had to answer this question in the first place – this wasn’t what I envisioned I would be doing in my History degree. To add fuel to the flame, I was given my second essay on day three – and it was due in a week. Oxford seemed like too much to handle.
Freshers’ week was a blur. The constant introductions, the names, the subjects, the places and the desperation to win friends all wore me out. Week one and I was already feeling tired and out of place.
Despite suffering a major case of imposter syndrome in first week, subsequent weeks were not too bad. My tutors were great; the tutorial system is absolutely amazing. I learnt more in eight weeks about life, people and History than I did in my seven years at secondary school.
Saying that, the traditions of Oxford still baffle me, even after three terms here. Latin Prayers in hall that hardly anyone understands, dressing in full sub-fusc to be matriculated in a Latin ceremony, college balls, collections – I think even Cambridge call them exams! These traditions are incredibly bizarre, and quite unique to Oxford. On top of this, the conversations: talking politics at the dinner table is perfectly fine. Essay crisis? A weekly phenomenon. And the most exciting things in Trinity term? Punting and croquet. The Oxford bubble is real.
It’s Trinity term now, and the year has flown by. Oxford’s ‘strange’ traditions are seemingly normal now, and when I return home at the end of every term to normalcy, I must admit, I do sometimes miss Oxford. In spite of the weird and wonderful traditions, consistent deadlines, and eccentric tutors, Oxford is now a home away from home. Three terms later… I think I am really starting to like it here.
