Hello all, greetings from Oxford.
Before I begin I’d like to apologize for not writing in the “Shimer in Oxford Blog” sooner. I hope that some of you will still have faith in us and log on to read my story, because it’s kind of interesting. I’m also going out on a limb to write this! We all know how hard it can be to drop our readings, and our Naruto downloads, and our wine/cigarettes, to write.
Anyways, many of you back home already know of my athletic past, and would find it hard to forget that I was at one time an avid fencer. I fenced sabre competitively for about 9 years before quitting, and since being at Shimer have only picked it up once but failed to continue (for a number of reasons). Fencing is a GREAT sport, don’t get me wrong, but it’s not the kind of sport that you can play pick-up at the park. Finding means to fence typically costs a lot of money, and takes a lot of interest to really get going as a fun, competitive sport. You might also imagine the difficulty in finding a place where people will let you play with swords, etc, etc.
Well, since quitting fencing, and since not having a gigantic ocean to play in, my young and restless body can get pretty antsy during the semester (especially during winter!#@%*!). I knew this going into my fourth year here, so I decided to take advantage of my surroundings and sign up with the Oxford University Fencing Club at the U's first year orientation, “Fresher’s Fair.” I found their table, littered with weapons and masks. I picked up a sabre whispering to me in a Tolkienesque tone, “yes, I remember you quite well”. I got to know the captains, signed up, and the next week I was suited up and fencing. I was rusty, horribly rusty- but not too rusty apparently because after my first session I was approached by Mathew Shearman, their team captain, who invited to fence for the official Oxford University Varsity Fencing Squad. Needless to say I was extremely honored and accepted his invitation.
But here’s the funny part: I’m a Shimer student, that is, not so much (if at all) a student at Oxford. How I ended up fencing in Oxford - for one of the most well known, prestigious universities in the world - will keep many of my former teachers and classmates puzzled for a long time. For you to understand what I mean better, you should know how bumpy my life in school(s) has been. With horrible attention issues and habits directing me well away from the road of academia, I was once a candidate for boarding school, special ed, and that special place, death, i.e. “High” School – which for me meant ditching class to hike up a mountain with spliffs and books. I was in no way Harvard bound, or had the mental capacity to ace my way to Oxford! And yet here I am, through some blessed wormhole in life called Shimer.
It’s a slight a farce, but will nonetheless be impressive evidence that I was once “a student at Oxford”… and one who was even good enough to fence on the varsity squad. “But that’s what Oxford’s all about”, Stuart says to me, “sticking your foot in the door.” [For Americans, that is, especially from tiny Great Books schools, I’d add. And not too far or you might lose it to a scornful mien, or, in Lance’s case, a fencing saber. SP] I’m beginning to see why, but that can’t keep me from laughing about the irony of it with my friends here. And thank god for them, too, because when I tried to humiliate myself in front of the Oxford Fencing Squad at the pub, all I received was blank stares and judgmental telepathic thoughts (yes, Oxford students know telepathy).
It’s been alright so far otherwise. We’re 3-1, with our only loss to a very good Cambridge team (“those wankers”). We’re fighting our way to the top of the league where we’ll hopefully meet Cambridge again in the finals. If we do, and win, that would be just as uncanny as me actually being on the team. It would make me twice as happy, too. Keep you posted.
Lance
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Before I begin I’d like to apologize for not writing in the “Shimer in Oxford Blog” sooner. I hope that some of you will still have faith in us and log on to read my story, because it’s kind of interesting. I’m also going out on a limb to write this! We all know how hard it can be to drop our readings, and our Naruto downloads, and our wine/cigarettes, to write.
Anyways, many of you back home already know of my athletic past, and would find it hard to forget that I was at one time an avid fencer. I fenced sabre competitively for about 9 years before quitting, and since being at Shimer have only picked it up once but failed to continue (for a number of reasons). Fencing is a GREAT sport, don’t get me wrong, but it’s not the kind of sport that you can play pick-up at the park. Finding means to fence typically costs a lot of money, and takes a lot of interest to really get going as a fun, competitive sport. You might also imagine the difficulty in finding a place where people will let you play with swords, etc, etc.
Well, since quitting fencing, and since not having a gigantic ocean to play in, my young and restless body can get pretty antsy during the semester (especially during winter!#@%*!). I knew this going into my fourth year here, so I decided to take advantage of my surroundings and sign up with the Oxford University Fencing Club at the U's first year orientation, “Fresher’s Fair.” I found their table, littered with weapons and masks. I picked up a sabre whispering to me in a Tolkienesque tone, “yes, I remember you quite well”. I got to know the captains, signed up, and the next week I was suited up and fencing. I was rusty, horribly rusty- but not too rusty apparently because after my first session I was approached by Mathew Shearman, their team captain, who invited to fence for the official Oxford University Varsity Fencing Squad. Needless to say I was extremely honored and accepted his invitation.
But here’s the funny part: I’m a Shimer student, that is, not so much (if at all) a student at Oxford. How I ended up fencing in Oxford - for one of the most well known, prestigious universities in the world - will keep many of my former teachers and classmates puzzled for a long time. For you to understand what I mean better, you should know how bumpy my life in school(s) has been. With horrible attention issues and habits directing me well away from the road of academia, I was once a candidate for boarding school, special ed, and that special place, death, i.e. “High” School – which for me meant ditching class to hike up a mountain with spliffs and books. I was in no way Harvard bound, or had the mental capacity to ace my way to Oxford! And yet here I am, through some blessed wormhole in life called Shimer.It’s a slight a farce, but will nonetheless be impressive evidence that I was once “a student at Oxford”… and one who was even good enough to fence on the varsity squad. “But that’s what Oxford’s all about”, Stuart says to me, “sticking your foot in the door.” [For Americans, that is, especially from tiny Great Books schools, I’d add. And not too far or you might lose it to a scornful mien, or, in Lance’s case, a fencing saber. SP] I’m beginning to see why, but that can’t keep me from laughing about the irony of it with my friends here. And thank god for them, too, because when I tried to humiliate myself in front of the Oxford Fencing Squad at the pub, all I received was blank stares and judgmental telepathic thoughts (yes, Oxford students know telepathy).
It’s been alright so far otherwise. We’re 3-1, with our only loss to a very good Cambridge team (“those wankers”). We’re fighting our way to the top of the league where we’ll hopefully meet Cambridge again in the finals. If we do, and win, that would be just as uncanny as me actually being on the team. It would make me twice as happy, too. Keep you posted.
Lance
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2 comments:
That's great- I'm impressed :0)
Lance--I attended Shimer long, long ago (in a galaxy far, far away...) One of my classmates at Shimer was a gymnast who, while in Oxford, used to practice at the Oxford gym at 6:30 AM when no one was there. One day someone showed up; the head of the Oxford Gymnastics team. He asked what college my friend (we will call him Phil, since that is his name) attended, and Phil replied "St. Anne's" or some such, naming what was not actually a college, but a hall (Phil was still pretty new at Oxford). The team leader then cajoled Phil into joining the team, primarily because Phil was afraid he would be arrested for trespassing if he was found out. Phil was told to show up the following Saturday at the gym at 9 AM, which he did, only to be told he would be leading off the floor exercises for Oxford. And that this was the annual Oxford-Cambridge gymnastics meet. Phil did his routine and left immediately, to the consternation of his teammates, and never went back, now afraid of being deported. It was left to one of his Shimer buddies who was at the match to pick up his first place trophy later that day.
So you are upholding a long tradition of Shimer athletes in Oxford.
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