How to be an Oxford American
Spires of Learning
Samantha Sigmon
Issue date: 11/12/08 Section: Lifestyles
When I first arrived in London for orientation, I immediately hated all of the Americans there with me. From this point, it has been difficult to find a balance between being an American and living in England. This is still a work in progress.
In my cocoon in the English countryside, I had not seen an American in 10 days. All of the sudden, I was thrown in with 40 of them fresh off the plane. Being born in the South and attending a Southern state school was a novelty to them. During dinner on the first night, one wide-eyed girl from Maine said, "You're from Arkansas? Wow! That's just so cool!" And because most of them are from small liberal arts schools on the Northeast coast, they seemed more foreign to me than the English people were - this was a bigger culture shock than getting off the plane.
I realize now that I was limited in my views of England and unfair to the other Americans. I had been accepted as part of a Haverhill family the week before. I stayed with only a few people and met only their close friends. We were all on holiday and we treated the week as such. I had basically been cradled in the lap of Suffolk, and was suddenly standing at the front step of Oxford on my first day of school.
During nighttime, the group split into those that would go out searching for a club and those that preferred to go to bed early. Instead of these options, I decided to seclude myself at some bar nearby and pine away my romantic emotions with only a glass of wine, pen and paper for company. I'm sure I looked pretty foolish writing feverishly away about how lonely London is. I tried in vain to work the red telephone booths to call my Haverhill friends and left pathetic messages on their voicemails. London was a place where I was in grave danger of wasting away in my own egotistic solitude.
Once we Americans moved from London to Oxford, a new problem presented itself. We were isolated in the orientation process. The American and English students had formed groups already. This is painfully evident on any night in the Junior Common Room Bar. American kids sit as isolated as an island in the middle of a river of English students. When the Americans went out, we traveled in large groups, so we never really met anyone. These groups made me feel out of place within them.
In my cocoon in the English countryside, I had not seen an American in 10 days. All of the sudden, I was thrown in with 40 of them fresh off the plane. Being born in the South and attending a Southern state school was a novelty to them. During dinner on the first night, one wide-eyed girl from Maine said, "You're from Arkansas? Wow! That's just so cool!" And because most of them are from small liberal arts schools on the Northeast coast, they seemed more foreign to me than the English people were - this was a bigger culture shock than getting off the plane.
I realize now that I was limited in my views of England and unfair to the other Americans. I had been accepted as part of a Haverhill family the week before. I stayed with only a few people and met only their close friends. We were all on holiday and we treated the week as such. I had basically been cradled in the lap of Suffolk, and was suddenly standing at the front step of Oxford on my first day of school.
During nighttime, the group split into those that would go out searching for a club and those that preferred to go to bed early. Instead of these options, I decided to seclude myself at some bar nearby and pine away my romantic emotions with only a glass of wine, pen and paper for company. I'm sure I looked pretty foolish writing feverishly away about how lonely London is. I tried in vain to work the red telephone booths to call my Haverhill friends and left pathetic messages on their voicemails. London was a place where I was in grave danger of wasting away in my own egotistic solitude.
Once we Americans moved from London to Oxford, a new problem presented itself. We were isolated in the orientation process. The American and English students had formed groups already. This is painfully evident on any night in the Junior Common Room Bar. American kids sit as isolated as an island in the middle of a river of English students. When the Americans went out, we traveled in large groups, so we never really met anyone. These groups made me feel out of place within them.
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