A cohort is defined as “a group of people with a shared characteristic.” Other than the shared characteristic of being extremely photogenic, this group of 16 shared the gamut of emotions in Oxford, and I count myself blessed to have offered my 1 part to the 16 whole. Oxford’s Hilary Term 2016 was one for the books. The laughs, the cries, the pub crawls and black ties, the early [broken] mornings and the late {substantially more broken] nights, the rants, and the memories have me more than nostalgic for the three months we got to share together.
I’m not one to overhype the group-bonding (and I don’t even think we played one get-to-know-you game) and I won’t be so naive as to believe we weren’t all a little testy with one another at times. But I will definitively say that this was the best dang cohort I could have asked for. Within these 16, I rebuilt friendships that had weakened over the years, built the foundations for new friendships that will last many more years, and gained insight into who I am, who I want to be, and who I need to be. Beyond the more trivial things such as life-lessons, I conquered grocery shopping, chicken cooking, and vegetable steaming. I’ve used utensils I never knew existed. I’ve rallied around things so nonessential yet life-giving in times of essay writing that I cheered for ice cream, cried at new additions to Netflix, and danced throughout the house for delivery pizza. I boldly faced down the challenge of a co-ed house occupied by eight (and maybe once or twice abused the fully-stocked fridge). It was with you wonderful people that I tasted the waters of Bath (and consequently spit it out), endured “The Hoff,” found Narnia (and Toot Butts Hill), experienced London (Ben there, done that), and even met Shia LaBeouf.
The 16 faces pictured above were the unexpected smiles in the same cafe when you hadn’t recognized a soul in days. The screams and laughs of the above 16 were the music that filled the Oxonian streets (and alerted everyone to our American delicacies). And the hugs and touches of those 16 friends were the non-verbal communications that reminded me “you’re far from home, but not without family.” 32 arms have embraced each other as we shouldered the freezing temperatures. 32 legs have undergone impressive transformations as they walked miles upon miles each day. 32 eyeballs have scoured the pages of books researching to no end, all for an essay that was most likely more trouble than good. and 16 mouths contorted to that ugly “sad smile” you get when you’re leaving someone you love for a significant amount of time.
So, maybe for this cohort we don’t have the run-of-the-mill study abroad experiences. Maybe our shared characteristic isn’t bungee-jumping off a bridge together or going on safaris (yes, I’ve seen your South Africa photos, APU). But what we do share is an unforgettable, culturally-shocking, educationally-challenging, cerebrally-stimulating, expectation-shattering, bone-chilling, independence-building Oxford experience. And I wouldn’t trade it for the world. So, Joey, Angele, Marissa, Justin, Alex, Katy, Delaney, Chrissy, Gianna, Julie, Annie, Ashley, Mika, Jessica, and Alyson…I miss you. And that’s why I’d vote for Hilary ’16 any day.
Corduroys and Coffee 