Why my college is NOT more alcoholic than yours

Students – even Cambridge students – drink. A new program implemented by St. John’s College to address the issue of drinking has created an immense amount of negative backlash.

The public is angry. The media seems angry. Even the folks in India are angry. The Daily Mail,  Cambridge-news,  The Telegraph, all have written articles (all using the same single Johnian student quote)… and that’s just to name a few.

So what’s the big deal, this scandalous program that has created such a furor? The program is simple: St. John’s College will, when Student Bob arrives home terribly drunk, arrange to have Student Sally sit with Bob. Sally, having been specially trained to take care of drunken occasions like Bob, will be able to handle the situation responsibly. She’ll stay with Bob all night. In the morning, Bob pays the college 100 quid. The college pays Sally 100 quid. All is well.

Only it’s not.

The public’s angry.

Look at the terms used by the media: Babysit. Partygoers. Staggering home. Riotous party. Drunken. Stripping. Vomiting.

Look at the comments: “Now that’s intelligence.” “It’s things like this that should make you be proud to be at John’s.” “I thought you had to be intelligent to study at Cambridge!” “What a silly scheme!” “Perhaps the privileged young people who attend St. John’s College should be mature enough to take care of their own responsibility!”

Look at the backlash! Such backlash.

The source of anger seems to be rooted in three things: First, the fact that these are Cambridge students; second, that the University is paying Student Sally/Helper to watch over Drunken Tom; and third, that St. John’s College has implemented a formal program.

Let’s address each in turn.

That these are Cambridge students: Cambridge students should be smarter. They should be more intellectual. They are the next-generation leaders, the glorious up-and-comers, the politicians of tomorrow and today. They are discovering new genes and saving the world bit by bit by bit.

Such students shouldn’t drink. If they drink, they shouldn’t do it in hall.  If they drink, they shouldn’t get drunk.

While I agree that Cambridge students should be held to a higher standard, such extensive scrutiny and constant, seemingly prepackaged, readily angry judgement is a bit much. When one thinks of the amazing things Cambridge students have done, it’s easy to forget that they’re just… well… kids. They start young: 17, 18-years-old. They get a bit older, but the growing process requires mistakes and maturation, efforts and foolish nights. Many of these students are away from home for the first time. Some have never been drunk before.

Is it intelligent to get so drunk that one needs Student Sally to watch over? No. But is it human? Absolutely. And Cambridge students, at the end of the day, are still human – searching, learning, growing.

We can’t fault them for that.

That the University is paying for Student Helpers: This angry point shouldn’t even be a point at all. The University isn’t paying. Drunken Tom/Bob/Becca is paying… and paying quite a lot.

St. John’s College has implemented a formal program: The statement is correct, but the anger surrounding it doesn’t make sense. John’s HAS implemented a formal strategy for handling those incredibly drunk, exceptionally rare wandering home lost souls.

This doesn’t mean John’s condones drunken behavior.

At all.

By acknowledging there’s a problem, John’s is daring to face what truly is a genuine issue, both in the US and the UK: binge drinking. The College is recognizing that students, more often than not, drink far more than they should. Rather than turning a blind eye, John’s has decided to do what it can to help those who may need help. Out of sight does not mean out of mind. Unfortunately, when it comes to the issue of student drinking, many universities seem to take this approach.

At the end of the day, St. John’s students are not any boozier than anyone else. As someone who has studied abroad and in England, as someone who has friends in sports teams and art societies, graduates and undergraduates, at John’s and at Oxford, I can say this with absolute certainty. Drinking is not a Johnian issue – nor is it a Cambridge issue. It’s something that happens far and wide.

The media and public should consider this if they want to take an active approach to solving the problem… rather than throwing stones at a darn good idea.

- Danae

Fun Things I’ve Learned by Working for a Dating Company

Because I can’t spend any more time with Aquinas, Augustine and/or Adorno, I’m going to tell you about some other man(ish)-research in my life: Wink’d.

I’ve been doing the marketing and PR for Wink’d Ltd, a London-based online/offline dating platform. As a result, I’ve learned all about dating.

Here are some of the more entertaining facts:

No one knows what to order on the first date: I blogged about this topic for Wink’d. Thanks to Google/Wordpress, I can see the search terms that send people to the blog. The most reoccurring ones? “What to drink on the first date,” “What to order on first date,” “First date drinks,” “berr (…yes.) on first date.” Slightly unrelated, but also amusing? “What does it mean when girls do that thing where they wink then walk away.” Hmm, yes. I’ve wondered that too.

The average UK male: has sex two times a week for 3.1 minutes each time. …Yes. I know.

More attractive woman + less attractive man = doomed relationship: Research has proven it. Who studies these things?!

The most popular (researched) date is: Cooking. Unfortunately, that’s something rather difficult for Cambridge students. We’ve got two hobs, a closet and a bucket for a kitchen. Try cooking in that.  “Today, my darling, I have again made us TOAST. On a BUCKET.”

Facebook is changing the way we define relationships: Gershon, in “Breakup 2.0,” wrote about this. Apparently Facebook and the internet is changing how us sassy souls engage in romance. We define it in entirely new, extremely social ways. Everyone can see when we get together with someone. Folks can also see when we breakup. Drama, non?

People who use Twitter have shorter relationships: Not sure this is an accurate statistic (as in, I disagree), but interesting nonetheless:

There’s a chance at love for all of us: A 90-year-old and 100-year-old man and woman just married each other, making them the oldest couple to get married. Awww.

English folks don’t like to be touched:  It’s scientifically proven. The French, apparently, are more comfortable with it. And the ‘mericans? We’re very, very focused on being politically correct.

So those are just some of the things I’ve learned as part of market research. Fun things. Fun facts. Now I’m back to my fun revision, where the most engaging of critical/cranky/caustic men wait for me…

Meeting the Queen, Life on the Rutting Farm, USA Today Blog, and Other Weekly Adventures

The fear has settled across Cambridge.

Duke of Edinburgh and the handshakecurtsybow

It’s exam term, the time when students hide in libraries, when they bring potted plants (seriously) and pictures of Jesus (also seriously) to mark their territory, when social events die and silence descends.

…or so they tell me.

The Queen. Yes.

See, I’ve been spending my time doing other things. Like meeting the Queen (ish) and the Duke of Edinburgh.

In celebration of St. John’s College’s 500th year, the Queen came to Cambridge. As I’m on the graduate committee, I was positioned in a special little marquee for her arrival.

As the sun glinted overhead and the wind whipped skirts about, the Queen, HRM, emerged. She was petite, delicate, wearing a bright blue hat with a matching skirt suit. At her side was the Duke of Edinburgh, 90-years-old and grinning.

“Now he’ll offer his hand,” the Domestic Bursar said in way of briefing us. “Men, you do the courtly bow and take it. Women, you can curtsy.”

Over he came. The graduate committee, all ten or so of us, formed into a very precise U shape. The Duke went one after another, catching hands, making a moment or two of conversation. Then he got to me.

Me (in the white) and other grad committee!

“What do you study?”

“Political philosophy.”

“That’s a degree?”

“Political philosophy,” I responded, intelligently. I was focused more on the curtsy-hand-wibble-wobble-don’t-fall process. Unimpressed, the Duke just stared.

“Right,” he said before turning off.

Then the Queen cut the cake and a military band played ‘happy birthday.’

Queen and Master of St. John's College

Other things that have been occupying my Cambridge time?

My friend Orla took this photo

Job Hunting. Oh yes, this is a fun one. While I’ve been accepted into Cambridge for the 1+3 MPhil, odds are I shan’t receive funding. So instead, I am a job hunting. It’s time to become a Real Girl. Unfortunately this process takes up a painful amount of time and sucks my soul.

Punting = Revision, non?

Rutty Farming: One of my pentathlon friends, Z, kindly invited me to her home for Easter. Her house perches amongst 625 acres of farmland. A resevoir glistens in one corner, the waterline broken by a pier. “In the winter it froze over and we could skate,” said Z.

“Let’s swim?” I suggested once, twice, again and again.

“You are insane. It is freezing.”

“All the cool kids swim.” So I hitched up my skirt and tucked my feet into the cold water.

BEST COLLEGE: St. John's

In the mornings we would go out as the sun was coming up and the mist was drying, hurrying to meet the horses. Z’s two dogs, already down at the stables, would see us coming up the path.

“Get down low! That’s the secret. Down low!” Suggested Z’s sister as the big furry creatures ran forward. So we crouched there on the gravel road, wearing jodphurs and riding hats, preparing for the lunging of excited muddy dogs.

“Here, Wesley!” I picked up a stick. “Go FETCH!”

…and threw it right in Z’s face. I am no good at projectile sports.

We read in the afternoons, flopped about on the grass, tinkered with instruments, tinkered with nature, and generally enjoyed ourselves. Z’s mom cooked delightful meals on the Aga, a massive oven-meets-house-warming-utensile thing.

My holiday was amazing.

USA Today College Blogging: Weee, this is a fun one. I wrote a blog post for USA Today. I’ll let you guys know when it comes out. Part of becoming a Real Girl?

Celebrating Graduation: Some of my good friends graduated this weekend. This means, in Cambridge terms, that they donned furry/colored hoods, grabbed an elderly man’s fingers, bowed while someone said Latin, and skipped through a general deluge of tradition. It sounds delightful and insane.

So there you have it. That’s what I’ve been up to these last few weeks. Ponies and Queens and Royal Weddings and furry things. Clearly, I am feeling The Fear.

(Thanks Donor).