One of the highlights of my first year at Oxford was studying Dorothy Richardson’s grossly underappreciated Pilgrimage; the enjoyment of which is thanks to Dr Adam Guy and his infectious passion for the work. Not only was it full of the rich and humorous psychological realism that I look for in a novel (with a deliciously relatable rendering of the irresolution and human-weary desire for solitude that we are so frequently guilty of), but its central character Miriam stayed with me long afterwards, too.
Particularly when I, just like Miriam, found myself in front of a class of 25 children expecting to learn English as a foreign language. Just as Miriam thinks, in her characteristic aquatic flow of thought: ‘It was a fool’s errand.... To undertake to go to the German school and teach ... to be going there ... with nothing to give. […] How was English taught? How did you begin? English grammar ... in German? Her heart beat in her throat. She had never thought of that ... the rules of English grammar?’, so too did I narrowly avoid the paralysis teased by these anxieties. The moment I am describing is the fruit of an opportunity I was given access to by the Oxford Career Connect site: 2 months of teaching English at a summer camp in Beijing in exchange for food, accommodation, and a TEFL qualification at the end of it. It is an opportunity I could not have imagined even a year ago as I left sixth form, elated at my offer to study English Language and Literature at Oxford.
Just like Miriam, I found teaching a challenge and a steep learning curve, asking myself exactly ‘how did you begin?’. Luckily, I was equipped with a year at Oxford, digging into the intricacies of the language and its grammar, as well as exploring the breadth of Anglo-Saxon, Victorian and Modern literature. As I developed in confidence, I managed to increasingly incorporate English literature into the topical curriculum given to us by the summer camp, leading to a particularly enjoyable game of poetry-themed ‘AI or real’. The students’ delight and shock that William Carlos Williams’ ‘This is just to say’ was, in fact, a famous poem in English, was priceless. I’m endlessly grateful for this opportunity, which has, for me, thrown into fresh perspective the value of teaching. This is to say nothing of the fact that teaching is, of course, also an exercise in learning – and the things I learned by being thrown in the proverbial deep end are countless. Like Miriam in the subsequent novels of the novel-series Pilgrimage, I am pulled towards the prospect of teaching again.
Lots of this is owed to how much of a joyful and eclectic an experience it is to study at Worcester. There’s such a sense of community; everyone knows everyone (some may say everyone knows too much about everyone, owing to the termly gossip column in the Woosta Source), and it is as much of a cliché as it is true to say that after under a week of freshers, you’re surrounded by people that you feel like you’ve known a lifetime. I’ve been involved in things I never thought I would. Last Trinity, I helped to direct the annual Buskins production of The Merry Wives of Windsor, which was incredible fun to be a part of until I found myself crouching backstage, furiously revising for my prelims paper the next morning. I’ve also loved being part of the wild swimming society, which I’ve found is a great way to kick off a productive day, and at the same time harmonize with the gorgeous green spaces that Oxford has to offer. It’s one of the things I miss most when I’m back home in the vacation, coming in just behind the lifetime friends I’ve made in my year-and-a-bit here.
It's sometimes easy to take living in Oxford for granted. The splendour and beauty of the city can easily be forgotten, flattened to a backdrop of the termtime rush. But there’s so much to be grateful for: especially living in Worcester, where the pristine gardens are the perfect break from a long day in the library. Here, it feels entirely removed from the bustle of the city: despite it being metres away, it’s another world. The moment of walking through the door to college to see the trees awash in reds and oranges, perfectly framed by the cloisters, will never lose its ethereality. Nor, indeed, will the 5-minute walk, past the quaint terraces of Jericho, to a cosy pub in the evening. It’s an atmosphere uniquely suited to losing yourself in thought.
Looking ahead, I’m excited to get even more involved around the University – especially in student journalism. I think, coming to Oxford, the sense of impostor syndrome is almost unavoidable – you’re surrounded by people who seem like they’re excelling at about a million things at once. It’s something I’ve struggled with, but I’m also coming to realise that it’s one of the things that has pushed me to become more involved and grow more than I ever expected of myself. Nearing the soberingly real halfway point of my degree, I find myself more articulate, with wider perspectives, and a deeper appetite for reading – just as well, as I glance over to the enormous copy of Samuel Richardson’s Clarissa which needs reading before the start of next term!
Ben Taylor is a 2nd Year English Language and Literature student at Worcester College
