Graham Murtagh
Staff Writer
It seems to me that impatience is some kind of global pandemic, sweeping across our iWorld where everything is new, glittering and instantaneous.
This was a thought that struck me as I made my way to dinner in Ranelagh early on Friday evening. Heading for the Luas just as it pulled out of its stop, I knew I wouldn’t make it and didn’t bother running, but others did. With the sun baking down, commuters contorted themselves into positions any Olympic gymnast would be proud of in an effort to avoid being shut in the doors of the tram. Some made it. For those who didn’t? Disaster. Pandemonium. A guy next to me, panting slightly and with a shiny brow from his impromptu workout, cursed at the bells of the train pulling away and cursed more loudly still on discovering that he’d have to wait all of three more minutes before he could make his way home for his takeaway.
Our obsession with the Veruca Salt, I Want It Now School of Living doesn’t just extend to or how we get home in the evening. It would appear that it’s infected our education, and there’s little that can be done to stop the contagion. Once upon a time, when leg warmers were deemed a social necessity, many had difficulty in seeing past the need for anything beyond second-level education. A good Leaving Cert was all that was required, providing the perfect platform from which the jump into the employment pool could be made. For many, third level was something that could only be achieved by going into a moderately tall building and stepping into a lift.
Then, something amazing happened. In an economic yarn that is by now so well told that to do so again would be to insult the intelligence of any reader, Ireland reached new heights of prosperity, and suddenly going to a third level institution was The Done Thing. Anyone that didn’t was seen as some sort of miscreant, afraid to take on their future, while the Lord Alan Sugars of this world (those that made millions without the benefit of a suffix) became trés chic, hailed rightly as heroes of the point that college isn’t for everyone, but success can be.
Changing economic circumstances have seen Irish people once again put a high value on education, and university would appear to be no different. Today, you have to stand out from the crowd. Today, you have to show that you understand the difference between pancetta, panna cotta and Peter Pan. In the same way that going into Starbucks and ordering tea is seen as tremendously ordinary, going to college without doing an Erasmus year is seen as unquestionably, unflatteringly dull. Now, you have to go away. You have to order the Vanilla Rooibos tea.
I’m not so sure that that’s fair. I myself examined Erasmus closely, but circumstances meant I couldn’t take part. Now, it’s a decision I’ve learned to be happy with. True, it seems that my once thriving social circle is now so diminished that any question along the lines of ‘Graham, what are you doing tonight?’ will likely be met with ‘Dinner for one, wine for two’ as an answer, but in my experience these things have a habit of working themselves out. I’m not sure too that the fact I can’t slap down a year spent at the University of GodKnowsWhere on my CV is putting me at an immediate disadvantage, in terms of life experience or employability. Life is what you make it, not where you are located.
I’m equally unsure that Erasmus is of much benefit in the medium term either. This is, at the end of the day, a decision to spend twelve months of your life in a foreign country, where the food will be weird, the customs will be unfamiliar and the lectures (even those through English) may be completely unfathomable. Law? History? Business? Through French?! I’d rather not. Even modules available in the host university may not meet the standards of the domestic university, and so modules that could have been completed find themselves placed on the long finger of fourth year. And lest we forget that in many cases, all this upheaval takes place against a backdrop of the Junior Sophister year accounting for as much as 50% of the final degree result. Bonne chance.
Costs. Blips. ‘Dolla’, apparently. It is an inescapable reality that we must mention money, but I don’t think it’s fair to nullify a debate on the pros and cons of Erasmus with a subjective, kill-all argument like cost. Given how nobody in this country can afford focaccia anymore, it would be remiss of any article like this not to at least advert to the thorny issue of money in some way, but it shouldn’t be central to a debate like this. Costs of living are incurred everywhere, even if they vary from place to place.
All of these flaws in the jar of Erasmus ointment though can be overcome, and to those setting off on what will undoubtedly be a fabulous year abroad, I wish you only the best. Hundreds go away on Erasmus every year and benefit greatly from the experience. Inevitably, you will clog our news feeds with pictures of you and your bronzed new friends with names that to us will be unpronounceable, and you’ll come back with a million stories and the European equivalent of a stick of rock. You’ll probably settle in brilliantly and achieve your academic potential and make us all jealous in the process.
No, none of that is the big issue, or at least not for me. I worked hard to get to TCD. I chose Trinity over any foreign university because it was where I wanted to spend four years. That was always the objective and the dream. Sure, I intend to study abroad for my postgrad, but as we stand, Trinity is home, and I’m not that impatient to get away.
As I learned on Friday, there’ll be another Luas.
