Right now, I’m writing my first bona fide North Campus paper, and I’m pulling my hair out ““ perhaps more so than before I crossed over from the enemy line of South Campus.
Maybe this is my punishment for forsaking my allegiance to the world of lab coats, DNA and titrations as a biology major and switching into the forbidden land of political science via blue books, texts and papers.
And today, as I pass the North-South Campus Civil War (where both sides will compete in athletic, trivia and talent contests in Bruin Plaza through Thursday), I plan to slither by inconspicuously.
South Campus upholds a treacherous reputation, but after two years as a member of that side, I find treading North Campus this past quarter is just as ““ or even more ““ intimidating.
Ironically, though, I’ve always considered myself more of the liberal arts type, and I expected an immediate adjustment to North Campus. So why do I find myself longing to be back in South Campus?
Perhaps our “intellectual inclinations” are self-conceived creations. They may even restrict our educational pursuits by preventing our exploration of fields that could have otherwise captured our interests.
So how true are claims such as “I’m not a science person,” and, “I can’t write papers”?
Do we have the inherent capability to be good at everything but are prevented from doing so because we say we are “bad” at certain subjects?
Are the divided intellectual identities between north and south actual or artificial?
“That’s probably what happened to me about the biology major,” said Aria Link, a third-year political science and international development studies student. “I was scared of taking math and chemistry. … I’ve been terrible at math my whole life.”
Though many factors contributed to Link’s decision to major in the social sciences, her fear of South Campus turned her away from biology, a subject that strongly interests her.
Like Link, in addition to math, the sciences have always been my worst subjects; my innate scientific inability can be traced back to my fourth-grade report card.
But when my mother’s encouragement (read: coercion) to pursue the sciences forced me to immerse myself in what I believed was my weaker academic area, it was bewildering that I somehow adjusted to ““ and ended up liking ““ the sciences.
My first five weeks in North Campus were a culture shock.
The only “texts” I’ve read in the past two years were diagrams explaining reactions and processes and the only “papers” I’ve written are lab reports.
Plowing through the sheer amount of reading proved to be more difficult than I thought, especially the denser philosophical and political texts.
And although I was no longer being bombarded by rounds of testing week after week in South Campus, I found it was even more draining to stare at the blank word-processor screen, waiting for ideas to appear out of thin air.
But I have to say that I don’t miss the curve. I nearly fainted when I witnessed students peer-grading quizzes generously in class; had this been South Campus, people would have been busy slaughtering one another’s grades.
But, oddly, I still fell victim to South Campus withdrawals. Though I definitely enjoy the theoretical nature of North Campus classes, I long for the familiarity of conceptual learning and concrete facts.
I am a worse flip-flopper than a certain presidential candidate in 2004. This reveals that my so-called educational identity as a liberal arts type has failed me. Perhaps I’m not a science person or a liberal arts person. Why am I categorizing myself, anyway?
According to a study on student learning conducted by the University of Calgary, certain personalities may actually be better suited for different subjects, such as sequential learners (math/science) versus random learners (fine arts). I won’t deny that certain traits more strongly complement certain studies.
It doesn’t make sense to rob ourselves of potential passions by predetermining our intellectual identities.
While it’s often true that people will enjoy what they excel in, it is also true that people will excel in what they enjoy.
The only winning strategy is to have an open mind to reconcile polarized intellectual identities. After all, we all know that war is stupid.
If Risk is your favorite board game, e-mail Yoo at jyoo@media.ucla.edu. Send general comments to viewpoint@media.ucla.edu.