Thursday, June 8, 2017

M.Sc. for Juvenile Delinquents

Next month, I'll be done with one year of coursework. The six months after that will be spent on independent research with no more lectures or exams. And if everyone in class finishes their research projects on time (which is unlikely), we'll all meet again on graduation day in 2018.

Hurrah?

I think not.

I'm really going to miss my crazy classmates and the good times we had/ have during classes. I'm feeling a sense of dread and sadness when I think it's all going to be over in a few week's time. Even though the students are serious people during week days doing serious jobs like being lecturers, teachers, guest speakers, chemists, assistant directors, etc, during the weekend, it's a completely different story.

During the weekend, these same people are throwing things at each other, poking fun at each other, laughing like jackasses, plucking fruits from trees in the campus, poking each other with compasses, taking blackmail-worthy photos of other students sleeping for example, passing food while the lecturers turn their backs on the class, etc. Each different type of personality makes some contribution which makes the class a colourful and fun place to be (and if they don't contribute, they are automatically qualified as guinea pigs for the others to prey on). It's no wonder I fit in comfortably with this lot, despite coming from a slightly different background.


This really happens in postgraduate level classes


Being forced to spend about 14 hours every week for an year (except those weekends they closed down for strikes!), sharing food, sharing notes, sharing woes, copying each other's lab reports and assignments, attending class weddings, having each other's backs, uniting against injustices from the administration and going on field trips have made us closer. In a very recent incident, the eldest classmate, who we affectionately called "Big Brother" collapsed in class and died later in hospital. The incident shocked and shattered us, but in a profound way, the shared grief also made us closer.

They are a good bunch. Nearly all of them help with explaining concepts, notes and assignments (at the risk of bringing up the class average) without the slightest hint of reservation. This is one quality I found to be very strange. I recall in my undergraduate years, the student culture in that university didn't involve much sharing or approaching other students for help because of the highly competitive nature of the course.

Normally not one to display much emotion, I've subconsciously come to think of at least 75% of the batch as my children. I'm only younger than two of them. The youngest ones in class are eight years younger than I am. Every time they come to me for childish requests or guidance on things, I find my maternal instincts kicking in. Looking at their youthful eyes and potential, I constantly feel the urge to meddle in their personal affairs, open their minds to personal development possibilities they have not heard of, try to boost their sense of self-worth, feed them fruit and make sure they are not left behind in class. They are also quick to push me to the battlefront and line up behind me when they are too afraid to approach lecturers for certain requests or fear repercussions. Now on some level I realise they are using me, but I suppose I can let the small things pass.

Shuri, I think you are getting too soft with age.


Sometimes, I feel like this Possum mother. Seriously. 


There are many professions I could have excelled at, such as environmentalist, zoo keeper, veterinarian, semi-failed writer, failed musician, auditor or detective. However, what I was really born to be is a record keeper who observes people, collects information and analyses patterns. While I have been attending one year of coursework in environmental science, I have also been storing information on the personal lives of nearly 23 people I met in class.

If someone were to walk into my mind, they would find a vault. In that vault are several hundred files of people, arranged according to the various circumstances I met them, for example, "Family", "School", "Undergraduate", "Masters", "Childhood", "Teachers", "2nd Job in Singapore", "Dubai", etc. Some files contain more information than others, but usually each file has a photograph, name, age, educational background, family history, career profile, likes, dislikes, temperament, skills, born talents, quality of childhood, specific life events of adversity, aspirations, hidden potential, areas of expertise, etc. Files will be updated with any new information that comes along, even if it is long after we no longer interact on a regular basis.

I am of the opinion that collecting such information is essential to make an overall quality assessment on the people I let into my world, appreciate them and help me figure out how best to interact with them.

Ah, there's robotic Shuri again.

Having to leave behind friends and move on is a recurring fact of life. Some friends keep returning to your life even after long gaps of absence. The wonderful memories collected will be archived in yet another vault. If I'm lucky, some friendships from this chapter will stick and continue to age like good wine.

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