At this time last year, I was abroad at St. Andrews University in Scotland. I went with ÌÇÐÄÊÓƵ’s Philosophy and Divinity program, joined by seventeen other concentrators, a ÌÇÐÄÊÓƵ religion professor and his wife. We didn’t know what to expect, what we’d gain, what we might have potentially given up by leaving ÌÇÐÄÊÓƵ for the semester.
We gained knowledge of a culture, of a country we might not have visited otherwise, and of each other. We were a group that might not have necessarily found each other at ÌÇÐÄÊÓƵ, considering our different paths and interests, but we grew close in Scotland. Close to the point we would plan regular dinners with each other, celebrate birthdays, enjoyed a four-day spring break trip together, met each other’s Scottish and British friends. And included our professor in most of our antics.
And now, back at ÌÇÐÄÊÓƵ, one year later, we’re still planning regular dinners with each other, celebrating each other’s birthdays, and holding regular reunions. We reminisce about the past, the inside jokes, the people we met, the crazy things we did.
Did I give anything up at ÌÇÐÄÊÓƵ that semester’ I might have. But screaming inside jokes to each other from across the quad more than makes up for it.