A quiet anniversary in celebration of community

Today, November 15, the feast of Saint Albert the Great, is the anniversary of one of the most important events in my life. On this date in 2012, I finished my MA dissertation and submitted it for printing. It was the penultimate stage of a labour that had lasted one semester more than it was supposed to, a labour that enabled me to understand much more than I had imagined, both in terms of scholarship but also on a personal level. Throughout my MA period, I kept thinking about the brief, matter-of-fact aside one lecturer had uttered at an introductory gathering for MA students, namely that it is not always pleasant to get to know oneself better. I experienced the truth of this at several points during my studies. 

Ten years after, I can more fully appreciate the importance of this date, as I can now look back and see what came after. November 15 unlocked the door for my academic future, and December 15, the date of my MA defence, opened it. It was the conclusion of a period of great excitement, but also great frustrations, a period of important lessons and bad habits, a period of solitude and company.

Much of what I am as a scholar today was shaped in that period which came to its transitional point on November 15. I came to learn the importance of academic generosity, as my MA adviser went above and beyond in his guidance, his patience, and his help. I came to learn to trust my own judgement in a way that skirted outside of arrogance, as several of my inklings were proved to be sensible and my work turned out to be quite solid. And, perhaps most importantly, I came to value the importance of community. This last point is perhaps what I stress the most when talking to students today, because to me it was invaluable. 

We were four medievalists finishing our MA that autumn. One of us was on schedule, having begun half a year after the ordinary starting point, and the rest of us were scrambling to put together something coherent as we were nearing the Christmas period. We met often. Three of us, historians, sat in the same cubicle, while the fourth, an art historian, was just a short walk away. While our daily rhythms often varied - I being much more of a night owl and a slow worker, a slow reader, and a slow thinker - but having that community to turn to was invaluable. Knowing that there were people who could help, and also knowing that there were people whom you should help, created a sense of belonging that is absolutely crucial in order to retain one's humanity in the face of immense pressure and uncertainty.  

I will skip further details of the MA process. Or perhaps I will just return to them when I celebrate the ten-year anniversary of my defence in a month. But I will say this: Knowing now that the labour gave me the opportunity to pursue my interests, to gain a range of new experiences, to travel, to meet new friends whom I dearly love, and to earn a living - for the time being at least - makes me all the more grateful that I was able to carry out this labour. And I am grateful that I did not have to do it on my own.