Oh St Andrews

After spending my freshman year at the College of William and Mary, I uprooted myself from my new family and moved across the Atlantic — 3,537 miles away — to Scotland. When I applied to the Joint Degree Programme with the University of St Andrews, I knew it was going to be an amazing adventure: two years at two separate universities, two distinctly different college experiences merged into a singular degree. In this coastal oasis, I have found another community that I can honestly call home.

COURTESY IMAGE // THE INDEPENDENT

“Knight to E4. Checkmate.”

My head fell into my hands. How did I not see that coming? I reached out and shook my opponent’s extended hand, and we immediately began recapping the game — or, more fittingly, the “war” — that we just contended in over the timeworn wooden table in the corner of Molly Malone’s. We laughed, blaming our blunders on the last pint, and got up to watch a game around which a crowd was forming. Even at a pub social, the competitive energy of the students is palpable.

At St Andrews, the dozen or so bars are the heart of the University’s social scene. These provide a wide variety of social atmospheres, ranging from stereotypical pubs like Molly’s (ironically, an Irish pub) to modern social clubs like the Vic, which nearly mimics the fun and intensity of a frat party dance floor back at the College of William and Mary. Not to brag, but we also have the Union, a University-run venue for students. Despite all of these options, however, I have ultimately gravitated towards calmer waters to satiate my social appetite. Aside from the Chess Society, my socializing primarily consists of hanging out with friends in our flats, having what I like to call “lava lamp conversations” — that is, contemplating life’s greatest and stupidest questions. Just chillaxing.

I’m sure this medley of bars and clubs sounds like heaven to the more socially-inclined students back at the College. In fact, it was for me ... at least initially. However, it only took a few weekends for me to begin missing Williamsburg, where the social scene was filled with familiar faces at every turn. Instead, I found that the large number of bars in my new home stratified the student population; the chances of randomly stumbling upon friends throughout the night became slim to none. In this aspect, the sense of “community” just could not stand up to the College.

Much like at the College, the students here prioritize academics above anything else. Academics are comparatively rigorous, yet structured completely differently. Each of my three courses is graded based on three major assignments, a rough total of about nine assignments per semester, which makes life as a St Andrews student a double-edged sword. On the one hand, the lack of busy work — which would typically cushion one’s final grade — opens up immense free time to self-manage in whichever ways we desire. On the other hand, though, each of my tests and essays carries significantly more weight, leaving little room for error. And I have to manage my own time productively — at least, that’s the goal, right? Adapting to these changes has required a radical mentality shift, from following a syllabus to actively researching on my own. Of course, learning is always the foremost goal whenever I enter a classroom or lecture hall, but without the structure employed at the College, the onus of study is more heavily placed on us students. This burden can be incredibly stressful if you do not have pressure-release valves built into your schedule, or, conversely, if you mismanage your time with too much leisure. This is, in part, why the social scene is so lively. The bulk of my free time is spent in the gym, playing chess, and hanging out with my incredible girlfriend (who is also in the JDP). This balance between stellar academics, spirited extracurriculars, and social outlets has led St Andrews to be consistently ranked #1 among UK universities in student satisfaction. When situated in the beautiful, historical setting of this medieval town — with its iconic quad, cobblestone alleyways, and sprawling golf courses — I find myself at peace. It will be bittersweet to uproot myself once again when I return to Virginia for my senior year.

MATT KERN // FLAT HAT MAGAZINE

With that being said, my homesickness for the College comes in waves, with no rhyme or reason. On the walk to town from my flat, I sometimes daydream about the campus and the people I left behind in Williamsburg. It’s a secluded bubble of college kids doing college kid things, which I quite enjoyed during my freshman year. At St Andrews, the school buildings are integrated into the town, which means that the University lacks a self-contained campus. Those who prefer big city life will be disappointed by this quaint college town; most students live and eat in accommodations outside of the town center, only coming into town for the day to attend classes and get some studying done in libraries or cafes. I’ve found that people here walk around with an air of purpose, as if they are always racing from point A to point B. The stop-and-chats that I enjoyed while strolling around the Sunken Gardens, or aimlessly walking the countless paths throughout campus are a distant memory, replaced by brief remarks or a friendly wave. Please don’t interpret this as a completely bad thing. Students here are not more cold-hearted or pretentious than anywhere else — it has just become clear that the structure of the “campus” dictates the pace of life in this coastal oasis. I knew what I was signing up for by applying to the Joint Degree Programme; the distinct differences between the University and the College are precisely why I applied in the first place.

In the months prior to my arrival at St Andrews, I was filled with excitement — underpinned by a twinge of anxiety — about my adventures ahead. I pictured myself taking notes within the ancient walls of the Quad, the picturesque university buildings akin to those of Hogwarts. And it has certainly lived up to the hype beyond that. During this past school year, I have grown immensely as a person. Immersed in the global melting pot of students and faculty with such unique experiences, I feel like I have gained more direction in my life and studies. The other day, I participated in a workshop at 9:30 a.m. for my anthropology classes entitled “Mediterranean Communities,” which required me to walk 25 minutes in the Scottish rain, something which has become so much a facet of daily life at St Andrews that I barely thought about it until my professor stopped me at the door, smiling, and requesting that I remove my coat and dry off before entering the room. “Welcome! But get out,” he said, and we laughed together. 

I was eager to get my hands on some archaeological material in the backroom of the Martyrs Kirk Research Library, but it wasn’t until it was in front of me that the ancient pottery came to life. Along with the five other students present, we carefully picked up each piece and examined it, speculating about their context and purpose thousands of years prior. It was truly exhilarating to handle these simple yet breathtaking objects under the guidance of my professor. The experience has invigorated me as I prepare for my archaeological field school this summer. In these small class settings, it is clear that the faculty truly cares about their students. 

Staring up at the night sky, I’m flooded with warmth and gratitude. The stars shine brightly out here, a far cry from the urbanization that has engulfed many universities. This past February, the town was even treated with front-row tickets to the Northern Lights (although, somewhat unfortunately, I was in Berlin at the time). The beautiful, frigid beaches of East and West Sands feel as though they have been untouched by human hands since the school was founded in 1413. I will never have a standard college experience, but that is okay with me. In two years’ time, I will have two alma maters, two homes away from home. 

Oh, St Andrews,

You truly are sweet,

you’re a beautiful place,

with your cobblestone streets,

and Queen Mary’s tree.

The sway of the tide

like the beat of your heart

we arrived starry-eyed,

but that was only the start.

I dread the day

that I must say goodbye,

but for now, you’re my home,

and it’s been a hell of a ride.