Muse of the mortar boards

Today marks the end of Jack's treacherous four-year journey through varsity, complete with an overpriced teddy plush and congratulatory bouquet. Throughout the entire process from helping him with the cumbersome gown to watching him receive the scroll from the Engineering dean, I couldn't help but mull over my current situation as a "late bloomer" - graduating one semester later than all the others in the same intake - in my bid to qualify for the honours track.

There might have been people who label me as insane for putting a toil on myself by undergoing additional semesters of crazy deadlines and readings, while others could have branded my bold decision as naive and short-sighted. I remembered deliberating all the countless permutations of possibilities on both sides of the line and I'm glad to say my decision was justified and rational. The million-dollar question here is: Why honours? Because I knew that this is a now-or-never situation: without an adequate amount of passion, no one would voluntarily sit through another bachelor's degree programme, and I know I'm included there. I knew fairly well that if I let slip this chance of final redemption, I might never be able to return back on this path again. Another arts degree? No thanks. Besides, like what I had mentioned way back then, I wanted to tread on this path and open up more possibilities and knowledge a B.A. course could never present to me. And I was proven right, after one semester of level-4000 modules and competitive course mates. With one more semester left, I shall strive to make the best out of it, just like what I had initially set out to achieve.

So while I didn't get the chance to don the graduation gown with Jack and step out into the workforce at the same pace, I was still proud as punch over Jack's achievement; he had started off his university on the wrong foot academically, but managed to break free from the bad start and rise to the occasion. The mugging sessions, the lunch dates, the Yakun coffee sessions, the bickering at the bus stop... I'll miss it all. Semester 9 will never be the same without Jack to watch my back. That'll probably be the real test for the both of us.

Happy Commencement. :)