Transcripted

A program I’m considering requires my college transcripts. I graduated from a non-traditional school, created in the 70s, Hampshire College.    

Hampshire is a design-your-own adventure, with guidelines on how to deepen study, culminating in a thesis of deep work. Instead of typical grades, you work closely with professors and receive evaluations of individual strengths and weaknesses. Think of them as deeper than the most intense performance review you’ve ever received.

I wasn’t sure what I’d find in my transcript, so ordered a copy for myself. The first page was an explanation of Hampshire and the five college process. What followed was 20 pages of evaluations of me and my work at that time. Not just any me, but me at 22.

In my heart, college was only moments ago which makes it all the stranger to look back at evaluations I hadn’t read in 33+ years. 

“…a weaker student, or one less dedicated to her work, might have been discouraged by the extremely rigorous criticism which Julie has received at points this term.”

“Julie begins to address those differences between love and desire… how is love for the particularity of another being, whose separateness from the self cannot finally be overcome, related to the ability to make art?”

“Julie’s instructors describer her analytic writing as ‘lively and precise’ and praise her ‘scrupulous preparation,’ her ‘perceptive analysis,’ and ‘apt and insightful’ interventions in class discussion. To the extent that there is a pattern of concern voiced by her teachers about her critical writing, in that Julie sometimes fails to develop her insights as far as she should. Julie’s very command of the narrative, her ability to tell a good story, can sometimes get in her way…”

Perseverance, passion and dedication to work – I had it then. Love of art, the creative process and the desires of being human, check. Patterns of not pushing far enough and fully developing an idea or critique, also check. These repeat in my life, in my writing, in my work . I haven’t changed and have completely changed since then. I am transported, feeling I’m all of it as I read through 20 pages of critique.

I’ve always loved my Hampshire education, and this time capsule takes it to the next level. The professors were so generous with their time, their nurturing guidance, their hard-to-swallow constructive criticism that was, and still is, so on the nose. Did I know then how right they were? Did I even appreciate them as much as I should have?

I immediately looked up all of them – where are they now? Some have already passed on, others have retired. They were such careful custodians and mentors of my youthful ambitions, of me when I was questioning society, the world, and my place in it.

Here I am now, at 55, full of renewed ambition, still questioning society, the world and my place in it. My heart is right, it was just a few beats ago. I have looped around on myself, only now I have more experiences. I am me, and more me, and more. Is this how we go, round and round?

What other lasting evidence remains of how much we are who we are, always?