Monday, September 20, 2004
Fighting my way out of the corner
My hands were dry as hell. Usually, when I'm extremely nervous, my hands often sweat a little bit, but this time they were really dry. So was my mouth. Every two minutes I'd walk out of the Honors office to have a sip of water from the fountain in the hallway. Then I'd come back, sit down, and stare at the door at the conference room.
They had been in there for 15 minutes, and I was getting impatient. Suddenly the door opened, and Dr. Wainscott motioned with one hand for me to enter.
I had already met everyone on the committee, 15 minutes earlier when they first came in, so there were no real surprises. Despite having had a drink two minutes earlier, my mouth dried up again as I sat down.
They interrogated me, and it wasn't pretty. I started off slow... bland, possibly disappointing. Someone would ask me a question, and mid-way through my answer the next person would pick at what I just said. Every move I made, there were five moves being made to counter me. I hated it, but I welcomed it.
It took one small success for me to at least get a breather. Dr. Tamura, one of my former professors from the economics department, would not easily accept my concern for world poverty. I thought he would be pleased that I was trying to get a scholarship so I could get a degree in development economics, but he wasn't ready to let go just yet:
“So what do you suggest we do about all this poverty? How exactly would you fix it all?”
I thought about his question for a moment.
“I don't know, wasn't that was the point of going to Oxford to learn development?” I answered.
It got me a chuckle from around the table, as they saw I was beginning to fight back a little. It also got me a chance to catch my breath. I didn't mean to be sarcastic with him, but it just came out.
They continued to throw worldly conundrums at me. So why is poverty really that bad? In terms of the British Royal Family, was I a republican or a monarchist? What did I mean by 'Modern cinema'? Who was the worst man in history, Osama, Stalin, or Hitler? What did I think about the legality of downloading music?
I was starting to have fun by the end. They were clearly trying to break me down in order to provoke me... to get me to think. I got a little too defensive at times, as often I felt they had misstated something I said earlier, so I felt the need to correct them.
After half an hour had passed, Wainscott stopped the conversation, and sent me out of the room.
When they let me back in, they told me that they were going to let me apply for the Marshall, but there were quite a few things I'd have to change beforehand...
They had been in there for 15 minutes, and I was getting impatient. Suddenly the door opened, and Dr. Wainscott motioned with one hand for me to enter.
I had already met everyone on the committee, 15 minutes earlier when they first came in, so there were no real surprises. Despite having had a drink two minutes earlier, my mouth dried up again as I sat down.
They interrogated me, and it wasn't pretty. I started off slow... bland, possibly disappointing. Someone would ask me a question, and mid-way through my answer the next person would pick at what I just said. Every move I made, there were five moves being made to counter me. I hated it, but I welcomed it.
It took one small success for me to at least get a breather. Dr. Tamura, one of my former professors from the economics department, would not easily accept my concern for world poverty. I thought he would be pleased that I was trying to get a scholarship so I could get a degree in development economics, but he wasn't ready to let go just yet:
“So what do you suggest we do about all this poverty? How exactly would you fix it all?”
I thought about his question for a moment.
“I don't know, wasn't that was the point of going to Oxford to learn development?” I answered.
It got me a chuckle from around the table, as they saw I was beginning to fight back a little. It also got me a chance to catch my breath. I didn't mean to be sarcastic with him, but it just came out.
They continued to throw worldly conundrums at me. So why is poverty really that bad? In terms of the British Royal Family, was I a republican or a monarchist? What did I mean by 'Modern cinema'? Who was the worst man in history, Osama, Stalin, or Hitler? What did I think about the legality of downloading music?
I was starting to have fun by the end. They were clearly trying to break me down in order to provoke me... to get me to think. I got a little too defensive at times, as often I felt they had misstated something I said earlier, so I felt the need to correct them.
After half an hour had passed, Wainscott stopped the conversation, and sent me out of the room.
When they let me back in, they told me that they were going to let me apply for the Marshall, but there were quite a few things I'd have to change beforehand...
