We came to U of T bright-eyed and fresh-faced (just kidding we’re jaded and sombre at all times), only to find out that we are essentially the Year of The Guinea Pig. We’re the first class to be on the new grading system, and the last to call the Flavelle basement home sweet home.
Sure, we’ve only been around a month or so and really have no idea what these changes mean to us, but everyone else is making such a big deal about them (see: Ultra Vires Sept issue), that we feel like we should be too.
And while we did take a moment to ask ourselves, Should we bother getting attached to Flavelle? Do we study extra hard for the illustrious ‘pass’? What’s going to happen to the Rowell mouse? we’re too busy coping with the day-to-day to care that much: November is around the corner and we’re still trying to figure out what the purple highlighter is for. We’re learning how to deal with the angry feelings that surface when gunners talk. We’ve gotten over the heartbreak of DLS, but now we’re wondering how we got roped into doing Law Review (despite explicit instructions from upper years not to, there was that little voice at the back of our heads that said ‘but Obama did it!’).
What does it matter if our classes are across the street? At least they’re not in York Region. And concerns about the grading system are irrelevant until after our December exams. After which we will be dead anyway, according to the Mayans.
